coffeecakeandkegels

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Grief Is A Thief

I lost my best friend at 26 years old. I have lost grandparents I loved dearly and yet their loss did not impact me in the way his death had. I expected my grandparents to die, after all, that is the order in which life is supposed to go.

The day after my 24th Birthday, my friend was diagnosed with Rhabdomyosarcoma, an aggressive sarcoma of the connective tissue and bone. Despite the abysmal prognosis from the oncology intern at our local hospital, Sloan Kettering in NYC treated his cancer aggressively. He was blessed with two more years of life until his cancer came back with a vengeance Jan 7, 2001.

On June 4, 2002 I got the phone call at work that he had passed away. I had been waiting for that phone call and ironically, I was not upset. I held it together. Little did I realize, I held it together by a barely there thread because at the funeral, I lost it. It hit me. I will never hear his voice again. I will never see his smile again. We will never fight over the stupidest, most inconsequential things again. Never again is a permanence we never truly think about. I felt as though I had been robbed in so many ways.

All these years, I thought I managed my grief but I hadn’t. Grief isn’t something to be managed. It’s been 17 years and I still think of him daily and the overwhelming sadness is still the same. It hasn’t gotten better and time does not heal all wounds. The years that followed, I felt an emptiness nothing could fill. That emptiness still exists.

It took me a long time to realize that I never fully grieved. Grief is sly. It tricked me into thinking I had moved past the loss and then out of nowhere, it hits me. When it does, I feel as though I have crashed into that brick wall all over again.

Everyone processes grief differently but I think most can agree with grief leaving them feeling robbed. People often say, “life must go on” and yes, it does. However, we carry our grief with us and it becomes a part of who we are. Words cannot dissolve grief, it impacts every area of our lives and permanently changes us. Grief is a shrewd thief because it steals what we did not know could be stolen. It steals the sparkles that once resided in eyes. It steals the smiles that were once contagious. It steals pieces of hearts, and leaves behind an emptiness that cannot be filled.

[coffeecakeandkegels]

Non Resolutions For 2018

I am not a believer in New Year’s resolutions. They can be unattainable in under a years time and put a tremendous amount of pressure on the people that make these resolutions. I also believe that it doesn’t take a certain day to make changes in your life, your life should always be a work in progress. Don’t get me wrong, I have seen people set resolutions and defy the odds but let’s be realistic.

I am sure we are all seeing ads about making resolutions. It’s a huge sales tactic for companies in the fitness and health industry (I know because I was in that industry). They try to sell the idea that you are not good enough the way you are, at that present moment. If you just do this or do that, you will be the best version of yourself! If it were only that easy, right?

What about resolutions that don’t actually require money? What about resolutions that don’t put any pressure on a person? I don’t care how fit a person becomes, how many supplements they take or how many anti aging serums they slather on their faces, if your soul isn’t being nurtured, it doesn’t really matter.

Here is a list of 20 non resolutions that will nurture your soul

1. Wake each day stating one thing you are thankful for and mean it

2. Stretch before you get out of bed

3. Hug more often

4. Donate your time

5. Stand by your beliefs

6. Let go of judgments

7. Start a conversation with a stranger

8. Do a good deed

9. Lend a hand or an ear

10. Learn to meditate

11. Practice self reflection

12. Don’t engage in gossip

13. Walk away from negative people and situations

14. Say positive affirmations daily

15. Read a book

16. Keep a journal

17. Be mindful

18. Find your purpose

19. Be genuine in your words and actions

20. Be kind

These can be worked on all year long and they don’t require any money and will not cause any distress. I can also bet that by incorporating these practices throughout the year, your inner beauty will radiate and you will love yourself just a little bit more. After all, beauty begins on the inside, right? PS- you don’t have to wait until January first to start 😉! Wishing you a happy, healthy and prosperous New Year! 🎉🎊

[coffeecakeandkegels]

How I Met My Yin

In an earlier post I wrote about internet dating and some of the interesting people I have encountered, lest not forget, Penis Puncher. I also mentioned that I met my husband online. When I met him, I was at the end of my online dating rope. I was deleting my account and had no interest in meeting anyone!

As I signed online to delete my account, I noticed I had an email. The email was short, to the point and at the end of the email, he left his phone number. I deleted the email because of two reasons: he left his number so quickly and he wrote the word “a lot” as “alot” and it sent me over the English Major edge! OK, I have to admit, I was a bit of a snob. I had a list of criteria for a potential love interest, must be college educated, cannot smoke, cannot have children, must be above 6ft tall, must be witty, cannot be blue collar... bla bla bla.

A day later, I receive another email from him. This time he wrote that he remembered me walking in a supermarket with my friends and remembered me from high school. I can’t deny that I was beginning to feel a bit weirded out. I was thinking the next line would read something like, “ and you’re wearing a red shirt right now... SURPRISE, I am in your closet!” Despite feeling like I may have had a potential stalker, I decided to call him anyway.

The conversation was going nowhere. He was shy and I was mean. He told me he had a child, he smoked, he was a city worker and he didn’t go to college. I asked him if he even read my profile and he said he had not (forehead slap). Regardless, I agreed to meet up for coffee and when the night came, I stood him up. He just didn’t meet my “criteria”. My phone rang and when I picked it up he said, “Hi Stacey, it’s Jimmy, we are supposed to be hanging out right now.” Pulling a scene from Mean Girls, I coughed into the phone, “I’m sick”. His response was not what I expected at all. He asked me if I needed anything! I mean what kind of person was he? A nice guy?! Those went out with the dinosaurs!

Needless to say, I felt like a monkey’s ass (insert any animal of your choice).

What’s an ass to do? Call to apologize. I left him a message stating that I had no intentions of meeting up but I just wanted to apologize for my behavior. I wished him the best of luck in his dating adventures and that he did not have to call me back.

He called me back (forehead slap, AGAIN). Despite having said what I said, he told me that we could still get together her as adults since Valentines Day was coming and no one should be alone on that day. For Pete’s sake this guy is a masochist! I told him I hated Valentine’s Day so I just would meet him another time for coffee. After all, Coffee is short and sweet.

The night came when we were supposed to see one another and there was a snowstorm. I was snowed in my apartment with no shovel. I told him that I wouldn’t be able to get together due to the snow and he said he would pick me up at 8. What in God’s name is wrong with this guy?!

At 8pm my doorbell rang. When I opened the door, he was slightly out of breath with a shovel in his hand. He had shoveled a path to my door. Now for the cheese...drum roll...he shoveled a path to my heart that night.

What’s my point? Should you have standards? Absolutely! Standards are qualities: respectful, hard working, kind, compassionate, spiritual, considerate. Standards are not a list of judgements- which is what I had. Because of the judgements I had on my list of “criteria”, I never would have met the man I married because I wouldn’t have given him a chance. What’s the lesson learned? Do not judge a book by its cover and let go of preconceived judgements. The person you said you would never be with, may actually be the Yin to your Yang. Seasons Greetings! 🎄

If you want more laughs from Coffeecakeandkegels, visit coffeecakeandkegels.tumblr.com

[coffeecakeandkegels]

Can I Get A Refund?

When I was foot loose and fancy free at 19, I once witnessed a mother flipping out on her child. She was yelling at the kid, slapping her and dragging her. At the time, my heart sank into the pit of my stomach because I felt so bad for this child. How could a mother be like this?! Well guess what? I know now! Motherhood did not come easy to me. I was depressed after having my son. It took months for me to feel a bond. A friend asked me, "Don't you just love him?" and I remember feeling numb, almost empty, and like a horrible mother for not feeling all rainbows and unicorns. Once the hormones regulated and I began to feel like myself again, my entire mood changed, like a veil had been lifted and I felt that unconditional love everyone had always talked about. My son was a great baby and toddler. We hit the jackpot with him, then came his sister. Of course we couldn't expect the second child to be just like the first, right? After I gave birth to her, they wheeled her into my room and she was wide awake, making noises like a Gremlin. She had just went through a pretty traumatic event and was still awake? Wtf?! This did not change. The first year with her was a challenging one, and that's being kind. Sleeping wasn't her thing, eating wasn't her thing, all of which are still not her thing to this very day. People would say to me, "You are so lucky to have a daughter. Having a daughter is having a best friend for life." News flash!!!! I chose my best friends for life and they don't suck the life out of me or make me feel like running away is a rational idea! It is hard to remember that she is still just a toddler and is finding her own way in the world. Sometimes I think she is the spawn of Satan. Sometimes I remember how I was as a child and then it hits me, she is my mini after all. What I did learn through this torture, I mean, beautiful motherhood experience, is that it's Ok to feel angry sometimes. It's OK to feel defeated some days or to have a bad day or a few bad days and it's OK to yell and scream sometimes. After all, we are human. If nothing bothered us and we baked cupcakes every day, we would be Stepford Wives and not human beings with flaws and feelings. It's OK to say no and stand your ground (even though giving in is so much easier) and it's OK to sometimes give in because you don't have the energy to fight another battle. It's OK to be a new mother and to feel detached, in a fog or even sad. It's hormonal and those feelings will lift in time and with some medication (not joking about meds- they are life savers). Children have bad days, so do parents and guess what? It's OK. One of my friends has said the same comment to me every year, "2 is horrible, 3 will be better, 3 is torture, 4 will be better, 4 is horrendous, 5 will be better." Each year has its own challenges and so does each child. On the days I feel like children should be like clothing, returned for new or refunded, I remind myself that's it's OK, tomorrow is another day. However, It gives me great pleasure to know that one day my daughter may have a child just like herself. After all, Karma always gets us! Hm, Karma must be a mother.

[coffeecakeandkegels]

Myrtle Isn't Always Fertile

When I was a little girl, around 3yrs old, I despised little children. While in a store, I would search out a child happily sitting in their stroller, pretend I wanted to ‘see the baby’ and when the parents would look away for a second, I would unleash holy hell on their child. My parents would hear the blood curdling screams of another child (and parent) and would know exactly where to find me. The parents would yell, “what’s wrong with your kid?!” to which my parents could not respond because they were mortified. My feelings of not liking small children stayed with me for a long time until I turned 30. I killed plants, couldn’t train my dog, so let’s see if I could raise a human! We tried for a year to conceive and nothing happened. At first trying was fun but after researching positions that work best, times of the month, day, week, body temperature, when the stars align perfectly when the moon is in Scorpio… it made trying, a job. I felt like I was being punished for my child attacking shenanigans from 27 years prior. That’s when we decided to see a fertility specialist. Fortunately, the fertility process went well for us. I conceived on my first round of IUI (intrauterine insemination). 41 weeks later, my son entered the world. However, this happy ending doesn’t always happen. Couples hope and pray to conceive, spend thousands of dollars and rather than walk away with a child, they walk away depressed and feeling hopeless. I know for myself, when I couldn’t conceive I felt inadequate. I am a woman with a healthy uterus for Christ’s sake! Why can’t a single sperm find its way in there and do its job? What’s wrong with me? For some women, they go years feeling this way, while trying to remain hopeful that some day, they will conceive. It’s an emotional rollercoaster, making your way all the way up, only to drop down into the pits of despair. Aside from this emotional rollercoaster, they have to hear comments from the peanut gallery. When are you guys going to try for a baby? Don’t you want a family? You know, I had a friend who made an appointment to see a fertility doctor and found out she was pregnant at the appointment. I had a friend who went through the whole process and then got pregnant on her own. The stories and comments go on and on. No one going through this process wants to hear any of that- positive or negative. They just want someone to understand that this process is taking an emotional, mental, physical and financial toll on them. It’s not a walk in the park for men either. While they do not have to be subjected to being a lab rat like women, they still have to be part of the process. It’s not that easy to just 'rub one out’ in a doctors office. In our case, he had to do it at home (couldn’t be from sexual intercourse because that could contaminate the semen) and then we had to keep the cup warm and transport it. This had to be done within a 2 hour time frame, in morning traffic going to downtown Brooklyn from Staten Island. No pressure! I remember waiting impatiently for him to bring up the cup with the jackpot in it and rushing out the door with a cup of jizz under my armpit to keep those little baby makers warm. It takes an emotional toll on both parties. I have heard people say, “I wouldn’t go through all that…” but when you want a child so desperately, you’d be surprised at what you are willing to endure. Poking, prodding, procedures, bloating, injecting medications that make you yell and curse at people in a diner (whoops- that was just me). It is true what they say, you don’t really know what you would do until you are staring the challenge or whatever issue it may be, in the face. Next time you see a couple, don’t ask them if they want kids, or if they are trying. These types of questions are extremely invasive and to some couples, questions like these are hard to bear. Life would be a lot easier if we could order a baby at Baby Depot. Everyone would be happy and we could always bring it back and get a refund.

[coffeecakeandkegels]

Self Care, Don't Care!

Happy Independence Day! Now that the party is over, the streets are loaded with remnants of fireworks that exploded into the night air, we can have a conversation about self care. Look at that! I am a poet and didn't know it! Our lives are hectic and often times we feel overwhelmed and overextended. We say yes more often than no. Of course we have the martyrs in our lives but they aren't really martyrs. They are codependent enablers (not judging because I have been guilty of this myself). That's a topic for another day but what I am trying to say is that many of us are living our lives for other people. For mothers, this is definitely true. When people would ask me if I was going to breastfeed my children, I would respond with, "They will be sucking the life out of me until they are in their 20's, I don't need them starting now!". Truth being I could not breastfeed due to Frankenboobs (if you missed that story-check it out). When I became a mother I felt completely overwhelmed, anxious, resentful and angry. I woke up, took care of baby, went to work, picked up baby, made dinner, fed baby, put baby to sleep, rinse and repeat. I did nothing for Stacey. I didn't realize how important self care really was because doing something for myself meant I was selfish, right? Wrong! In order to be a better human being in general, you need to find your own happiness. It took me a long time to realize this. I began to recognize that on days I got to do something for my own self care, I was a nicer person all around but most importantly to my children. I had a little more patience and yes, I was a little more fun too. A cranky, nasty mom isn't fun for anyone. Mothers never stop stressing because quite frankly, someone has to keep these mini versions of ourselves alive. It's not an easy task. I know for myself, I cannot keep a plant alive so the fact that I can keep the kids alive is a pretty big deal! It's not just mothers who need self care, everyone does. We are not machines made of titanium. We bend, we break, we need to take care of ourselves and no one can do it for us. We are responsible for our own happiness. What I found makes me a happier person is waking up earlier than my kids and having my coffee in peace. Recently, I read a book for entertainment (something I once loved but haven't done in a long time) and it felt amazing! I also exercise because, for me, it is a tremendous stress reliever. It doesn't have to be expensive or elaborate. What do you do for your own self care? Think about it. Make a list and if everything you do on a daily basis if for someone else, put one thing on that list that you will do for yourself each day. A 2 minute meditation, stretching when you awake, enjoying a cup of coffee in peace, exercising, reading a book, taking a bath, speaking to a friend, anything that once brought you joy. Trust me, it didn't leave you and is very much still there. You can't truly be happy without self care (see, I did it again). 😜

[coffeecakeandkegels]

The Sky Is Falling! Wait, It's My Vagina!

Since it is World Continence Week, a few entries ago I wrote an ode of sorts to the vagina. When I said I know a lot about vaginas, I meant it. I truly believe knowledge is power and in my case, knowledge probably saved my mental and emotional well being. I developed Pelvic Organ Prolapse at 37 after the birth of my second child. When my daughter was 4 weeks old, I wanted to check out the damage. You know, check out the battle ground and see how many fatalities there were. I went into the shower and investigated the area and felt a ball. Yes, a ball descending about a ¼ inch outside of my vagina. Panic set in! I called my OBGYN and she very nonchalantly assured me everything was fine and she will see me in 2 weeks. What was a girl to do? Google of course! PS, NEVER GOOGLE! When I googled I read about POP and how I may never be able to have enjoyable sex again (as if having kids didn’t put a damper on my sex life already). I would never be able to continue to teach kickboxing classes, I would urinate on myself and leak poop! I literally felt my heart crumble. I felt devastated and I became extremely depressed. My mother told me life could be worse. Of course I knew that but at the moment I felt hopeless. No sex, no exercise, having to wear depends- this is how the internet portrayed POP, with doom and gloom scenarios. However, what good the internet did do was direct me to a support group via Facebook for POP. Who knew?! When I joined, I was greeted by amazing women, all over the world, who lifted me up. Thousands of women! I wasn’t alone. They educated women on POP, what it is, what can be done to treat it, and life modifications not to make it worse. I learned so much. I became a vagina connoisseur! I couldn’t believe no one was talking about this and educating other women. Surgery isn’t a quick fix. Many times the surgeries fail especially if they were not performed by a urogynocologist. I learned that there is physical therapy for VAGINAS! How many of you knew that? By educating myself, going for physical therapy, making exercise modifications, and using therapeutic tools to help relax my pelvic floor, I was able to get my life back and learn to live with POP. Now you all know, just like my poor husband. You’re lucky, he had to hear all the gory details. He knows more about women’s health than most men out there. He was supportive and of course, a willing participant in helping me nurse my vagina back to health…which reminds me of a song from my youth…He’s down with POP, yea you know me, who’s down with POP? Every last homie!

[coffeecakeandkegels]

Cyber Loving Penis Puncher

There are so many online dating sites today. Meeting someone is literally at the touch or swipe of your finger tips. I met my husband online. We met at a time when online dating was taboo. When it consisted of people sick of the club and bar scene. People seriously looking to meet someone. Of course there were people who were strange and even some with "serial killer" potential but for the most part, people were looking for "the one". As an online dater, I have met an array of characters. There was the guy who asked me to punch him in the penis, the guy who said he was 5'9 and was really 5'2, the guy who called me 8 times in a row and when I got weirded out and told him I couldn't meet him, he flipped out and continued to call me all night threatening me, Nosferatu's clone (the original Dracula), the guy who wrote to me just to tell me I was "fat" (ah, internet bullying even in 2000), the guy who went by the name of Noodles, the guy who got my exact tattoo (creepy), I can keep going. Of course in between the people that probably are in prison for stalking or murder now, there were some really nice guys too. In our current age we have sites like Plenty of Fish or as my sister likes to call it, Plenty of Nuts, Tinder, where you can swipe away the undesirables, FriendfinderX, literally just for sex, Match.com, Zoosk, and plenty more. I can sit here and tell you the adorable love story of how my husband and I met but why would you want to read that? You know you totally want to read about the "penis punch" guy, admit it! To protect his identity we will call him, Bart. I decided to meet Bart because we actually had a mutual friend in common and I figured if I disappeared, my family would know who to look for. We met for coffee and I was not at all attracted to him but I enjoy speaking to people to gauge their level of crazy. We were leaving and he told me he didn't bring his car and asked me if I could drive him home. Um, weird but OK. We get into the car and he tells me he has a hard time meeting women because he has a fetish. I am no prude and nothing really shocks me so intrigued I asked, "Fetish?" And he proceeded to unzip his pants and pull out his penis. I was disgusted and shocked but he assured me he just wanted to show me his fetish. He started punching himself in his penis like he was Mike Tyson going for heavy weight championship title! I was horrified!! "Doesn't that hurt? Oh my God!!! Please stop!!" Apparently it didn't hurt and he even asked if I would like to try. No thanks! To think when I was in college I considered being a dominatrix, well this sealed the deal that I wouldn't have been able to hurt someone for my entertainment. I don't think it was Bart's fetish that stood in his way of meeting women. Knowing someone for an hour and whipping out your privates isn't really the best way to start any relationship. So Bart, wherever you may be today, I truly hope you found the yin to your yang or the punch to ya junk!

[coffeecakeandkegels]

All Hail The Vagina!

In celebration of Mother’s Day and that fantabulous organ many of us came from, “All Hail The Vagina!”

Recently I watched the Vagina Monologues on HBO. First, I didn’t know what to expect. I envisioned vaginas flapping all around or talking vaginas. Who knew, right? Instead it was a creative piece on all different women and experiences with their vaginas. It was interesting and inspiring. I mean let’s face it, vaginas get a bad rep or are misrepresented. They are not just “penis receptacles (as I once read). I am sure we can count how many erectile dysfunction ads we see. The ad is always showing how if a man can get it up, he can get a hot woman! Commercials for, let’s say, vaginal dryness talk about being “discrete” or embarrassed for what happens to a woman’s body during menopause- a natural part of life. I know some of you don’t know this about me but I am very knowledgeable about vaginas and vaginal health. Why you might ask? Well, 4 weeks after I gave birth to my daughter, my vagina was broken. Not the kind of broken you may think. I developed pelvic organ prolapse. If you don’t know what it is, I will of course educate you. It’s a herniation of (all three or could be one) the bladder, bowel and uterus. Where do they go you might ask? Straight outcha vagina! It is a hole after all. This can make sex very painful, make bowel movements difficult and cause you to leak urine or leak feces. Sounds awesome! This gave way to my passion for not only my own vagina but for other women’s vaginas. On my journey to “centering my vagina” I learned quite a bit. I have comprised a list to pass on to ladies and men alike. 1. Vaginas can break 2. Repairing a broken vagina is complicated and the repairs may not last. Keep your core and vagina strong. 3. Coconut oil is a fantastic natural lubricant for your vagina (you will love it, I wouldn’t steer you wrong) 4. Vaginas are SELF CLEANING (you do not need to “douche”. The only douche you should be familiar with is that idiot guido sitting next to you. Made you look!) 5. Vaginas need love (and not what you’re thinking- love from the body it’s inhabiting, not shame) 6. No vagina is perfect (we all look different down there and it’s OK) Get to looking! 7. Hair was meant to be there. Now hear me out, I am not saying you should look like a Yeti but you shouldn’t be ashamed of some hair down there. Hey, if you have a 1970’s bush, by all means go for it! No judgement! 8. A healthy vagina is a happy one. Use it or lose it. 9. Vaginas like to breathe. She’s covered up all day- set her free!! PS- my grandma always told me this and I thought she was crazy. Little did I know, grandma knew her stuff! 10. Orgasms not only feel good, they bring blood flowing to the vagina which keeps it youthful and healthy! So get busy with yourself or a partner or both!

I have given you some homework here. I know you are thinking, “I cannot believe she wrote this about vaginas!” Don’t worry! Next post will be all about penises…..just kidding…. or maybe….🤔

[coffeecakeandkegels]

Totally Tubular, Frankenboob!

By now you know that I had buck teeth, bowed legs, jaundice, wore glasses, and I was portly (I always wanted to use that word). The cherry on top of my pubescent stage of life were my breasts or lack thereof. When puberty hit, like any other young lady, I couldn't wait to wear a training bra. My chest did not need to be trained by any means because it was non existent. Of course it couldn't simply be flat, it had to be unique. Does this even surprise you? My right breast was shaped like a horizontal tube and my left breast had no breast tissue at all. The actual medical term for this is Tubular Breast. It's not just a play on words as I am not that creative. To make matters more interesting, the areolae were different also, one larger than the other. Of course for years I would make jokes regarding that part of my body or I avoided it at any cost. When a boy asked if he could "go up my shirt", I brought him over to the wall and let him feel it and said, "This is pretty much what you are going to feel!". Obviously joking about this was my way of minimizing how I really felt. If I had a symmetrical small chest, it wouldn't have bothered me one bit but that wasn't the case. I felt like an oddity. At 18 years old I decided I wanted to feel like a "normal" woman. I did not research my doctor because I had trusted the recommendation I received from my family physician. Little did I know what I would be in for. The doctor I chose to perform this surgery was not experienced enough to perform this procedure. I had no idea he killed a woman during a nose job operation and caused permanent nerve damage to a woman's hand while removing sun spots, the list goes on. Thanks to Dr. Giggles, my scars were two fingers wide in thickness, he cut the areola to appear as if he made them closer in size (all he did was make scars) and that tubular issue was still there. He placed implants so deep into my muscle that my chest almost began to look concave. After surgery I coined myself "Frankenboob". I felt ashamed and I felt like this is what I deserved for being vain. Thank God for the support of my sisters and friends. They helped me realize it wasn't about being vain, it was about wanting to be comfortable in my own skin. This time around, I researched. I found a very skilled plastic surgeon who had done work on celebrities and created tools to make reconstructive breast surgeries easier for women who had undergone mastectomies. He was able to correct 90% of the damage the previous doctor had done. He was able to get my entire reconstructive surgery, all $30,000 of it, covered by insurance. I loved this man! For the first time, I didn't feel like "Frankenboob". My breasts were still different but I was able to accept them and myself. They also made a good conversation piece. I know a lot of women who are considering plastic surgery. If you are reading this, please research the doctor. Don't be afraid to ask questions. If you feel something is off, go with your gut because your gut doesn't lie. You can thank me later for saving you from becoming Frankenboob, FUR (Fucked Up Rhinoplasty), 3T (Terrible Tummy Tuck) or any other name you could think of rather than your own!

[coffeecakeandkegels]

La BANZA!

Some parents have sweet names for their children. Lovey, Cutie Pie, Sweet Pea, you get the idea. I am sure you are pleasantly reminiscing at this very moment. Well, my sweet and loving name was La Banza. My father who does not understand Italian coined the name to mean "big belly". He would grab my belly, jiggle it and say in a very robust voice, "A la BANZA!". Little did he know this really meant "the banana". As a child I realized that my self worth was not measured by my accomplishments but rather by my size. If I got a 100 on a test there was no hooting and hollering. However, if I ate a second cannoli, hold on to your horses! La Banza is breaking out of the gates! I developed a love hate relationship with food. I hated food because it made me the size I was yet I loved it because it helped me feel whole. Clearly I was in an abusive relationship with food. By the time I joined Weight Watchers at 13 years old, my binge eating disorder was already in full effect. I figured out a way to still lose weight and binge at the same time... and people say I can't multitask, sheesh! It really wasn't until after I had my son at 33, I realized I had a problem. So eating an entire container of ice cream, a bag of chips and a sandwich all in a matter of 20 minutes wasn't normal? Heaven to Betsy! Who knew?! I would either binge or restrict, a vicious cycle. I knew I didn't want my son to learn unhealthy behaviors from me. God knows he will be in therapy because of me anyway but one less gripe is one less copay, right? I decided I would no longer spend money on "diets" and really understand what healthy eating was. It's not restricting calories, binge eating, passing a mirror to see if your stomach got flatter after a poop, going to bed thinking about food and waking up thinking about food, abusing water pills and fainting on line at Ralph's Ices, (don't worry, I still ate and enjoyed my ice) the list goes on. That's insanity. This meant I had to get in touch with my own emotional well being, my inner child (aka La Banza) and well let's just say, she was a basket case! I knew I had to work on myself mentally, emotionally and spiritually. I had to learn about foods that fueled my body and to not dread moving my body. For the first time in my life I enjoyed exercise because of the mental release it gave me. Usually I dreaded exercise because I was consumed with the idea of burning off the last thing I ate. I cannot say recovery is bullet proof. There are still times where I have "slips" because that eating disorder voice is always trying to talk shit. The difference is, I know why I am doing it. I know what I am feeling rather than trying to numb the feeling. I am able to stop before it gets out of hand like it had prior to these realizations. Good old La Banza learned how to heal herself but most importantly she learned how to forgive herself. When you are beating yourself up for how your body looks or guilting yourself over that second slice of pizza, remember to be kind to your body and to yourself. If we can just love our body, even a little bit, it will love us back. We just have to trust the process and remember it's "one day at a time".

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[coffeecakeandkegels]

I May Be Fat But You Look Like Dumbo

Kids can be cruel. My mother told me this at a very young age. I didn’t know what the hell that meant. After all, I was a kid and I was nice to other kids. When I was in first grade, I had a crush on a boy, Vincent. It probably wasn’t a good start to our relationship when I leaned over to get a book out of my desk and farted right in his face. Of course this was not on purpose but my family is extremely gassy and sometimes we have “projectile farts”. No warning, no holding them in- just explosion. Vincent knew I liked him. As the years went on in grammar school, my relationship with people changed. I was made fun of daily. Four eyes, fatso, and when the Garbage Pail Kids came out, I adopted the name “Spacey Stacey”. I couldn’t argue that name though because sometimes I was be a bit ‘out there’. Of course these names hurt when you are a child. It wasn’t until 7th grade that I grew a pair of my own balls. In class, Vincent was making fun of me under his breathe and laughing with the boy next to him. Usually I would get upset but I heard these names for so long that they felt like pebbles hitting a giant. No effect. I turned around in my seat and I said, “I may be fat but you look like Dumbo! I can lose weight. What can you do about your ears?” The gaping stare was priceless. Vincent retaliated. While I was walking to my father’s barber shop on New Dorp Lane I was run over by a bike. Yes, Vincent ran me over with his bike. I know what you’re thinking, “how the hell??”. The wheel went between my legs and my knee sock and tire rubbed together so fantastically that the skin on my leg came off and was tangled into my knee sock. Thanks for the battle wound. I assumed my Dumbo comment really hit home. What I learned from this is when you change your reaction to people, they change also. Instead of cry or tell them to “shut up” or “leave me alone”, I fought back. I reacted in a way I usually didn’t. I was no longer made fun of- to my face at least. We cannot change people but we can change the way we react to them. I used to let a lot of things bother me. I am a very sensitive person (despite the rumor my heart grew like the Grinche’s). By not reacting in my usual way, I have found my own peace. That’s your homework for this week. When you find yourself in a situation that causes you distress, react differently. Make a conscious decision to find peace. Thank you for reading and feel free to share!

[coffeecakeandkegels]

I May Be Fat But You Look Like Dumbo

Kids can be cruel. My mother told me this at a very young age. I didn't know what the hell that meant. After all, I was a kid and I was nice to other kids. When I was in first grade, I had a crush on a boy, Vincent. It probably wasn't a good start to our relationship when I leaned over to get a book out of my desk and farted right in his face. Of course this was not on purpose but my family is extremely gassy and sometimes we have "projectile farts". No warning, no holding them in- just explosion. Vincent knew I liked him. As the years went on in grammar school, my relationship with people changed. I was made fun of daily. Four eyes, fatso, and when the Garbage Pail Kids came out, I adopted the name "Spacey Stacey". I couldn't argue that name though because sometimes I was be a bit 'out there'. Of course these names hurt when you are a child. It wasn't until 7th grade that I grew a pair of my own balls. In class, Vincent was making fun of me under his breathe and laughing with the boy next to him. Usually I would get upset but I heard these names for so long that they felt like pebbles hitting a giant. No effect. I turned around in my seat and I said, "I may be fat but you look like Dumbo! I can lose weight. What can you do about your ears?" The gaping stare was priceless. Vincent retaliated. While I was walking to my father's barber shop on New Dorp Lane I was run over by a bike. Yes, Vincent ran me over with his bike. I know what you're thinking, "how the hell??". The wheel went between my legs and my knee sock and tire rubbed together so fantastically that the skin on my leg came off and was tangled into my knee sock. Thanks for the battle wound. I assumed my Dumbo comment really hit home. What I learned from this is when you change your reaction to people, they change also. Instead of cry or tell them to "shut up" or "leave me alone", I fought back. I reacted in a way I usually didn't. I was no longer made fun of- to my face at least. We cannot change people but we can change the way we react to them. I used to let a lot of things bother me. I am a very sensitive person (despite the rumor my heart grew like the Grinche's). By not reacting in my usual way, I have found my own peace. That's your homework for this week. When you find yourself in a situation that causes you distress, react differently. Make a conscious decision to find peace. Thank you for reading and feel free to share!

[coffeecakeandkegels]

No doubt- therapy is a true testament to self growth

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Anyone who has grown mentally, physically or spiritually knows that growth is not found in comfort.

Unknown (via deeplifequotes)

This couldn't be more true!

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Everything happens for a reason: live it, love it, learn from it! Make your smile change the world but don’t let the world change your smile

(via motivated-mindset)