Super Inspired Writer

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Monday, June 30


Something has been bugging the shit out of me and I finally decided to do something about it. You know I believe as much as anyone that your before pics are super important, they remind you where you have been, and motivate you to keep going forward. But every time someone asked me to see my ID…I would cringe. The pic wasn’t me anymore. And I could see the looks that were trying to ask but not ask. I decided that before our summer vaca I wanted a new license, so that just in case I got carded it would just be me. Opening my wallet time and again to see that horrid reality of the past made my stomach hurt.

So I got my greys touched up, blew my hair out and pulled out the once a year CHI hair straightener and off to the DMV I went.

What an ordeal.

First of all I neglected to pay attention to the fact that it was the last day of the month of June and therefore there were no less than 20 people in line for license plate stickers. Luckily, I was there for a Driver’s license  pic so I got to cut into the short line. I thought I was going to be totally sly when I left my old license at home so I could save it for posterity with my other fat memories…I was going to just say I lost it. But the only one fooled ended up being me because I didn’t have the required documentation for the new license! Don’t know about you but I don’t drive around with my sosh card OR my passport so I was shit out of luck. Dragging both kids with me, we went allllll the way home and alllll the way back. I wasn’t about to give up. I had done my hair, damnit!

Take 2… the line was much longer, but again I got to cut. When it was my turn the lady at the counter looked at me like I had three heads when I said I needed a new license because I had lost 85 lbs.
“This license says 143….are you saying you need that updated?” she looked at me skeptically.
“No,  what I want is a new picture. That is an old weight entry which I have never weighed ever by the way.”
“So you just want a new picture? You can’t just get a new picture. That’s a big deal here…I’m going to have to ask my supervisor.” Go right ahead lady. I’m on a mission.
So…I waited and waited while the kids played on my iPhone and finally the DMV manager said it was okay. She had to sign in a separate log for overrides because there was no legit reason I needed a new card.
“So what do you weigh right now? I have to enter a new weight since that is your reason in the system.”
I thought long and hard and said with confidence “160” ahh….my wedding day weight, such a beautiful memory.
“Fine” she says and punches it in…”One-Six-Zero. Oh, and good job.”
After my pic was taken we were on our way. And here is the finished product. ---> 

Maybe it’s silly that I still worry about such nonsense. But I worked hard and this is who I am now and I don’t want the daily reminders of the person who is long gone. The mistakes I have made in the past when I was a serial yo-yo dieter is that I would hang on to just a teeny-tiny part of the past, enough not to scar me permanently and eventually I would slip back.

Well this time I am scarred. Both emotionally and literally. No going back. And no hideous fat lady lurking in my wallet any more. 

Monday, June 23

Soccer Fever

My name is Rosie…and I’m a Soccerholic.

How did this happen you ask? Well for starters, growing up Italian led to memories of my dad jumping around the house when Italia would be kicking ass in the World Cup every four years. Move over Olympics and Super Bowls, we were a first generation home from Palermo, so it was only the World Cup that would excite this family. We went to Italy more than once coincidentally when the World Cup was on as well, which led to people young and old flooding the streets of Rome on motorinos (tiny motorcycle scooters) with their bodies painted green, white, and red and honking air horns. The energy was amazing.

Even still, I never was on a team myself. Even though looking back I was semi-athletic, I did work as a lifeguard and swam to the bottom of the diving well to pick up dummies, I wasn’t a runner. To be on any team worth a damn where I grew up there was a running requirement, you had to run a mile in less than 10 minutes to even be considered for a sports team. I was out, which was okay, because in those days I was all music and theater focused anyways. I would have NEVER given up the chance to sing on stage to run on a soccer pitch.

My husband, as American as apple pie itself, had a draw to Football and Baseball. We would talk about when we had kids how they would probably play those sports just like dad and he would coach from the sidelines. Well, we were half right. As you know, what you think will happen and what does happen doesn’t always jive when you have kids so ironically enough, our boy ONLY wanted to play soccer every season from the age of 5. We would suggest he try something new, but at the 11th hour when it was time to pay the cash, he would always want soccer. So soccer it was and became our year-round commitment.

Me and the Hubs
The good thing is that because my boy is, shall we say, a little energetic, it’s the sport that is best for him and his body structure because it is all running based. There is no way he would have the patience to stand in the outfield waiting for a ball to fall in his mitt. While we struggle at school to just sit still, when the bell rings it was all soccer every night where he could run and kick to his heart’s desire. And run he did.

This is where I become the typical soccer mom. All I’m missing is a mini-van but don’t worry, my next vehicular move will be back to a compact car. That’s a post for another day. I love wearing all my soccer mom clothing, and the team colors, and all the black-and white pentagon inspired fashions. Soccer is in my blood literally so it just makes sense that’s where the dominoes have fallen.
Lost about 2 inches by sweating under my shin guards!

But this soccer mom doesn’t just sit on the side and yell obscenities from a folding chair. Oh no. This soccer mom plays for herself. Me and a bunch of friends all joined a summer co-ed soccer league just for fun and exercise and I’m out there running and kicking myself. The last time I was on an organized sports team was my softball team in 8th grade so I was a little nervous. But these were my friends. And I have been running for over a year. So I laced up my cleats and ran and kicked and ran some more. And my heart thanked me. This is a life I never thought I’d live.

So in the sprit of the World Cup, I became both a Soccer Mom and a Soccer-playing Mom. And it’s euphoric.

Wednesday, June 18

Summer Lovin'

It’s summer vaca. Time to relax and enjoy the sun, right?? But is that what I’m doing? Hell no.

I am still going into school this week for our summer technology academy. It’s when teachers in our district teach other teachers all the cool new ways to use the MacBooks and iPads that we give all of our students. And things for us to use too in our classrooms. It’s an amazing wealth of information, and then we have a few months to keep it in our tote bags until fall when hopefully we will use it.

It's all about the #soccersocks
Soccer is STILL happening. My son had two games this past weekend, both of which he WON. Can’t complain. My tan is already bitchin and I haven’t even been to the pool yet this year. Last night we went to see the older boys play at a local college and it was a fun summer night. Tonight if the storms pass we have the last travel game, and on Sunday my husband and I start our Adult only Co-Ed league. Yes, you read correctly…I AM PLAYING SOCCER THIS SUMMER. Don’t get me wrong. I suck. But I can run in longer spurts now, and with all my dance history I am coordinated enough to kick a ball, so I should be good to go. Plus this....

Both of my kids celebrate their birthdays in June. Yep, I can only get pregnant in October. I have their “actual” birthday parties with special cakes on the “actual” day they were born, then a communal kids party for them both with friends. This year we are doing a picnic in the park theme and I swear if it rains I will loose my shit. But I wasn’t going to splurge on a nice indoor let-the-staff-entertain-them party this year because Disney is the following week and I want some major spending cash.

Luggage are already being packed with all of the Disney themed clothing and swimsuits I have been buying since last summer. All the discount and $5 Mickey t-shirts I could find in all of our sizes are ready to rock. Comfy shoes too. And sunglasses. Dining reservations with characters are made. Fast Passes are selected. Kids room booked so me and Hubs can have a date night at an Irish Pub (along with REAL Irish dancers, move over Tilted Kilt this is the REAL DEAL).

Last summer I was in transition, but this summer I am HERE. Yes I still have a few more to lose, less than 10 by the way, but the last few pounds will be the “range” I think. I’m in the “range” now.  I’m finding it inside of me to be okay with that and really accept that I’m in the range and that I will have to work my ever loving ass off to stay in that range, and that’s okay. Hard work to lose, harder work to maintain. Support group is next Monday and I’m always looking for new recruits. If you are reading this and want to come LET ME KNOW. Even if you aren’t banded (YET!!) it might just surprise you and give you the motivation you need to make a change.

So a time for rest and relaxation becomes a time to keep flying. Because flying is way more fun than sitting in the nest, and I sat in the fucking nest long enough.

Thursday, June 12

Never The End

I am just finishing my 8th year in the classroom, plus the 5 years I stayed home, and I have been a teacher for 13 years total. That means I have been a teacher for as long as I was a student until I graduated high school, and that shit’s crazy.

You know what else is crazy? That I now have a new second and fourth grader! How the hell did this happen? Am I old enough for this? Don’t answer that.

I’ll tell you how this happened alright….because life doesn’t come with a pause button, and you know what else? I’m glad. Because every year that I have been a teacher, and every year that I have been a mom, I have gained so much as a person. I have so many memories, both good and bad, to learn from, and that is a blessing. The gift of living and not dying.

I survived through another school year of working every day, and evenings filled with clubs, practices, games, piano, Religion, school events, teacher meetings, etc. etc. I did this also during my first year post-op as a Bariatric surgery patient, running here and there to my many appointments, attending support group, heading the Facebook page, and even making yellow loom bracelets for my new Lap-Band family. Oh. And dieting. And learning what it feels like to have to get rid of dinner. And running, did I mention running??

But am I special? No. We all do these things in some capacity. We stretch ourselves past the limits of what we think reasonable.  It’s how some of us survive. Because just like in the theme song for Orange Is the New Black….taking steps is easy, standing still is hard. Pausing in the middle of the sprinkler was always worse than just running through, where you got less wet. Or at least that’s what we all believed.

Transitions are rough, I’ve said that before and I’ll say it again.  But transitions are necessary to get from a caterpillar to a butterfly. Saying goodbye to friends, events, teams, jobs, and anything else you take pleasure in sucks. But it’s part of life.

So I will not mourn my kids finishing another year of school. They grew, and learned, and thrived! And I can’t wait for what next year brings.

And I will not mourn the changes at my teaching job. Because what was, was awesome, but what will be might be that much better with time. No one will know until it happens.

And I certainly will not mourn the changes in me. Every day I try and make myself better. I have patience for people. Compassion. I’m a giver. I’m not too proud to take suggestions…and I work on them. I know sure as the sun will rise that I’m not perfect. And neither are you. No one is. To be perfect would be to just….stop….

And I will not stand still.

Wednesday, June 4


I stopped counting calories. Cold turkey.

I am not stopping all the monitoring of everything that is going into my mouth however, very far from it in fact. What I stopped doing was having a panic attack over a 30-calorie Hershey kiss at lunch (and I mean really eating just one, not eating five and pretending that I only ate one.)

I have been on this journey for so long that I’m not the same person anymore. My lifestyle and behaviors are totally different and I need to TRUST myself that I know what to do and TRUST that my band will take me where I want to go.  I haven’t logged in a few days and you know what? I’m doing okay. I’m not bloated. I know how big my meals should be. I can eyeball the right portion size. I didn’t go through all the trouble of weight-loss surgery just to follow other diet programs on the sly. I had surgery because those things never worked for me, they were only short-term solutions to a long-term problem.

But as we all know TRUST is a fickle thing. It is the difference between making something happen and knowing it will happen. I am not the most trusting person as it is. Typically having anxiety disorder goes hand in hand with freaking out when you don’t have complete control over something and have to just trust it will be. But I have to find it inside of me to believe this is different because I am indeed in control.  I just need that damn crystal ball.

Spring sucks. It’s a transition season and I hate transitions. I don’t now what’s worse, not knowing yet if I’m being rehired to teach next year, or not knowing if I need a hoodie or umbrella outside. It’s a crappy time of year when you have to trust everything around you. Trust that summer is coming. Have faith in the fact that you have been doing what you need to do and the rest will fall into place.  But I walk around skeptical in my shoes. About everything.