Sticks and Stones............

Obese Mannequin Offends Some Reddit Users


 Take a minute to go to the above link and look it over.


Before I go on...

 Is it just me or are the similarities uncanny?

I read the above article today on the way home from a conference in Omaha. Don't worry, I wasn't driving. On the three hour commute, I also had a chance to read through some of the debate on the Reddit Website. I want to take the time to address those with the negative responses, not that they will ever see it or be enlightened enough to process it, but perhaps it will give me some peace of mind.

I am more than a little offended by some of the statements that I read. I realized that most of those negative comments are made by passive-aggressive morons who hide behind a generic screen name and terrorize others in an attempt to make themselves feel better about their menial lives. I have my doubts that if one of those individuals, who were so bold, in the comfort of the cyber world, were standing in front of me (or any other overweight person) they would be so brazen. It's pry a good thing because I would most likely go a lil Redneck on their dumb asses.

Having sometime to process this, I was able to distinquish the true difference between me and the "fat haters" and it has nothing to do with weight. It 100 percent has to do with perception. Perceptions of themselves and those different from them.  My parents taught me to stand up for myself and for what I believe in. They taught me integrity. They taught me that I had value and worth and that those two things have absolutely nothing to do with the size of jeans that I wear. Every day growing up, they told me I was beautiful. They told me that I could be anything I wanted to be. They spents years building up what strangers could knock down in a series of words.   I have to step back and realize that not every one was blessed with the support system that I have.  Most likely, no one ever  took the time to tell them they were worthwhile.

I am in no way promoting my body size or lifestyle choices. I accept complete responsibility for being overweight. It was my choices and mine alone that lead me to where I am. I am fat but for the most part, I consider myself healthy and each day I feel a little bit healthier. Even if from this point on I didn't lose anymore weight I would be okay. I am reminded of my friend, Whitney's words, that the battle I am fighting right now is not about weight, it's about health. I want to get healthy and be healthy.

I have spent my whole life being the fat girl. I have smiled and pretended it was okay when people (friends and even family) made comments and jokes about my weight or other overweight people. I held my head high when people said these horrible things about how I look, because I was taught that I was better than cruel words-that they do not define me. In my mind, I know that both of those things are true, it's just my heart that I sometimes have to convince.

 My personal favorite was when someone came up to me and said, "Laura,  You're never going to get married until you lose some weight." Really? Really?  Had I been thinking on my toes, I would have said, "That's funny because you found a husband and you're ugly AND have no personality." Good thing ladies don't say such things. :) The fact that I am not married couldn't have any correlation with the fact that the majority of guys in the area are D-bags, now could it?

All of this rambling on an article about a mannequin....sheesh..... I think the part that I was most bothered by was the fact that being plus-sized is synonymous with ugliness. Notice that the depicted mannequin's hair is not done and that she is not wearing make up. That is absolutely accurate, fat people don't care enough about themselves to even bother looking decent. I like to think that although I am overweight, that I usually look presentable ( Please note that I use the term presentable rather loosely if when you see me falls on a weekend). To my knowledge,I don't think people meet me on the street and want to throw up, but I guess, I could be mistaken. I have found that the people that truly matter in life care far more about what's inside of your head than outside.

Be.Who.You.Are.

People are always going to find something to be conflicted about. The people on the Reddit website are worried that obesity is going to be considered the norm.   I, however, am worried about living a world where I have to tell my daughter or son that they will be judged by how they look, not who they are....that's the kind of shit that keeps me up at night.

Thankful

In true Thanksgiving spirit I thought it would only be fitting to take the time to express some of the things that I am thankful for each and every day.

My Parents- I share my last name with two of the craziest people who have ever graced this earth. They are also the greatest people who have ever lived. Two people who have never been handed anything in their life. They have worked their asses off for all that they have. They taught me that I could achieve anything that I wanted. They gave me roots and wings and told me I could be anything we wanted to be. They have been the greatest example of unconditional love, honesty, and integrity. Apparently, being stubborn and hard-headed are recessive traits; and because of this I am not afraid to stand my ground and fight for what I believe in. For that, I 
                                                                                                       will always be thankful.
                                                                                             Love you both to the moon and back!

Jennifer- The sister that God forgot to give me. It's probably a good thing that she isn't my biological sibling, being as though she married my brother, because, if I am not mistaken, that is illegal and generally frowned upon, unless, of course, we resided in Arkansas. :) I will forever be thankful that she is a part of my life. I am all the better for knowing her. She taught me that family has less to do with blood and more to do with love. She is also one of the strongest people I have ever me. She has been through so much and yet she never gives up hope. I love you, big sister.

Ethan- I am thankful for the 23 years I was given with my brother. I am thankful for his support, for his friendship, and for his laughter.

My Family- I am thankful for the rest of my crazy family. Again, some of the greatest people to ever live and by far, the funnest. We all share an unrelenting bond that transcends generations. I love you all so much.

My Friends- I have the greatest friends ever! Each and every one of them different but all so wonderful in their own way. Some that I have known forever and some only a short time, yet all of them fantastic. It doesn't matter if I see them every day or once a year, we all just pick right up where we left off. Also, it is an amazing feeling knowing that when "the chips are down" that my friends will be there, no questions asked. Thank you all for being you.

Second Chances- Every day I am thankful for second chances. I am thankful that I have been given the opportunity to make the life changes necessary to be healthy. I am thankful that my wake up call came before it was too late. I am also thankful for all of the support that everyone has showed me in this journey. You are all wonderful.

Work Out Buddies- I am thankful for my Nichole and Deb, standing by me, and giving me the motivation to consistently work out, even when I don't want to and make about a bizillion excuses not to do it. Thank you for not dealing with my nonsense and for listening to me complain-You guys are the best work out buddies, ever.

___________________________________________________________________________

It has been a while since my last blog and  I have some fun updates.......

 At my last weigh-in, I was down 34 pounds!!!!!!!!- Small progress, in the long battle that I have ahead of me but, progess, none the less. I am proud because each and every pound was a hard-fought battle. A battle between what I wanted to eat and what I did eat. The choice is up to me. This time, I will win. I am not saying that I am the portrait of healthy eating all the time. I don't always make the best food choices but I make adjustments and know that I don't have to deprive myself to be successful. The key is to always get back on track. I also think alot about the battle I have losing the weight, I know that the battle to keep the weight off will be a lifetime one but a small price to pay for a long life.

I run now..... without anyone chasing me. Okay, I use the term run pretty loosely, because, it is more of a SLOW jog, but dammit, it is way more than I was doing just a few short months ago. I "run" for about 30 seconds and then walk for several minutes, ya know, until my oxygen levels return to a safe level. It's exciting and frustrating and exhilirating, all at the same time....

Happy Thanksgiving!!!!!!!!

Temporary Bouts of Insanity......

Pahaha....More like permanent bouts of insanity mixed with short periods of lucidity.......story of my life.

 I have some exciting news. My friend, Nichole and I have registered for The Warrior Dash this coming June!!!!! It's officially, official. Until yesterday, I had no idea what The Warrior Dash was but like all paramount decisions in my life, I first agreed and then gathered the facts. Little did I know that this race would entail mud bogging, barbed wire, wall climbing, and FIRE. My inner-pyro was more than a little pumped about the fire aspect.

I know what you are all pondering to yourselves..."I have never seen Laura Whitesel run." And that thought would be absolutely accurate. I am not much of a runner. In fact, I hate running. It doesn't even look fun. I have always maintained that one should not run unless they are being chased.... So why did I agree to an extreme 5K, you ask? Well, that is simple-I am nuts. Plus, it's not a huge secret that I may have problems with moderation. So something like The Warrior Dash seems right up my alley.

 I am at a point where I have found myself at many, many times before. The only thing different this time is that the story doesn't end here. I am picking myself up and brushing myself off because I may have stumbled but this time I will not fall. Nichole suggesting The Warrior Dash couldn't have come at a better time. This last week I have been lacking in inclination. I am eating things that I know I shouldn't. I am not exercising like I should be. I needed that push. I needed some motivation. Knowing that I have already registered holds me accountable. It also gives me something to be excited about and something to work towards. I also forgot to mention that each registrant will receive their very own viking hat. I'm not trying to brag or anything but I'm fairly certain Nichole and I will make pretty B.A. vikings.

I am all about setting attainable goals so because this is my first run I am only going to have two very simple goals. 1) Survival-my greatest hope is to live through the race :) 2) Finish the race-it doesn't matter if I am the last one to cross the finish line six days later, I am going to do it.

Stay tuned for all the training shenanigans.....there's bound to be a few good stories involved.

The Day Grief Came To Live At My House.....

My story is in no way unique. By sharing it, I am in not asking for people to feel sorry for me or for my family. All that I am asking is that if you knew my brother or even if you didn't you would take some time today to remember him and his zest for life and smile. He would want it that way.....

October 29th, 2008, should have been an ordinary Wednesday. A mundane day spent finishing up my final classes before my December graduation. When I went to bed on that Tuesday night, I had no idea that in just a few short hours, life as I knew it would forever be changed. Every thing from that day in ingrained in my mind, in my soul. I remember the call from my mom that came at exactly 5:33am. She used the word unresponsive. She never spoke the words that he was gone but deep in my heart, I knew. I remember trying to rationalize in my mind that his blood sugar had just gone too low. He would be fine. He had to be fine. This was Ethan we were talking about. In retrospect, I was flashing through Kubler-Ross' stages of grief at warp speed. Even on the four mile car ride to my parent's farm, I remember bargaining everything thing I had or could give if he would just be okay.

Four years later, grief still lives with the Whitesel's. It's a visitor that was never invited yet will never leave. Grief is no longer a constant companion. It no longer consumes us, although it is always there. Prior to this, I thought those stages of grief that I had learned about in so many classes were just theories. Boy-oh- boy, was I mistaken. The fantastic (sarcasm) thing about grief is that no one is EVER on the same stage in a family. We all found our own way to grieve. We were all set on paths to navigate through our grief and it was up to us, individually to find our way. Admittedly, I got lost along the way, several times. I did and said things that I could have never thought possible.

I found anger real fast and held tight to it for a long time. I understood anger. I was living in a world where my basically healthy 26 year old brother went to bed and didn't wake up. So in a world where everything I understood to be true was turned upside down. I reached for an emotion I understood. I couldn't pinpoint who or what that anger was directed towards, all I knew was that I was pissed.

I remember trying to figure out how I would get through the next four minutes without my brother and still am in disbelief that four years has passed. I can remember thinking to myself, "how long is this going to hurt?" I know now that the answer to that question is as complicated as it is easy: forever, it's going to hurt forever. I don't care it is has been four years or forty, the void that was created when he left this life will always be there.

I still miss Ethan every.single.day. We all do.

I miss his love of life. I miss his advice. I miss his compassion. I miss his bullshit and his stories.... I miss him every time I look at Mom and Dad. He was this beautiful mix of both of them. I miss him every time Dad laughs-exactly the same as Ethan. I miss him every time Mom says something that sounds bat shit crazy because that apparently is hereditary :). When I see what a wise ass Jennifer has become, I smile because without Ethan showing her, her true value she would still be settling for other's treating her badly. I miss him most when I see my cousin, Trevor. They have such strikingly similar facial features that sometimes when he walks in to a room it feels like the wind has been knocked right out of me because for a nanosecond my mind plays a trick on me and maybe this has all been some kind of horrible nightmare. Thankfully through Trevor, we get to see Ethan in small glimpses.

On a side note, I also have to laugh every time I see a Mini-Cooper because he wanted one so bad; I just am not real sure how the logistics of him getting in one would have worked but guaranteed he would have rocked it.

Four years later, my family and I continue the process of healing. Life will never be what it once was but we are adjusting to this new normal. A reality that isn't ideal. One, if given the choice, none of us would have picked, but like it or not, we must adapt. Some days it feels like we've got a grip on this new life. Others, it feels like the wounds are brand-new. Physically, Ethan has left us but I know he will always there. The times that I feel the most alone, I have to believe that is when he is there by my side saying, "Stop being a dip shit, Lou, and pull your head out of your ass." He was the first person I would call with good news or with bad. I still have to consciously not dial his number when I need someone to talk to.

Four years later and I am finally choosing to let go of my anger. If I really want to honor my brother's life, anger is not the way to go about it. I want to think about his life with happiness. I want to live every day the way he did, with no regrets. He may not have always made the right choices. His mistakes were plentiful yet he always saw the best in everyone A quality I have yet to master. He took the time to forgive those who didn't always warrant it. Never once did that kid hold on to anger.

By releasing my anger I am allowing myself to forgive. It's taken a long time for me to realize that my forgiveness has the be threefold. I am forgiving God for taking my brother, for His plan is far beyond anything I can fathom. I forgive Ethan for leaving us. When the good Lord calls your name, you gotta go. And finally, I am choosing to forgive myself for living. Feeling guilty about living pays no homage to Ethan's life. Having the opportunity to truly live and denying myself that is the only true disservice to my brother's memory.

Four years ago grief came to live in my house and I will never, ever be the same.

In Loving Memory of Ethan Edward Whitesel
February 5, 1982 to October 29, 2008.

To A Life Well Lived.....
Miss You Every Day, Bubba!

A trip to the city.....

I spent the better part of this week in Omaha for some training. It's hard enough to make good food decisions while at home but put me in a situation where eating out is the only option and I am a train-wreck waiting to happen. Overall, I was able to make quasi-good choices......kinda. I do notice a big difference in what I can eat since starting this healthy lifestyle. My stomach can't tolerate food the way it used to eat. Apparently it is possible for your stomach to shrink. Even if I make a not so healthy choice, the amount that I am actually able to eat is not what it used to be.

 I have always said that I was meant to be one of those skinny girls who could eat everything and never gain an ounce. The only problem was that God must have been so wrapped up in the awesome creation he was about to share with the world that he COMPLETELY forgot to include the metabolism neccessary. So not only can I eat like a lumber jack, but hell, I can look like one, too.

It seems like everywhere you turn there is some type of restuarant in this town. I also must mention that whoever designed Omaha obviously was hardcore AND drunk. I have never gotten lost so many times or met so many disgruntled drivers. Last night I was headed to a friend's house. Somehow or another, I wound up in the wrong lane and was headed straight into on-coming traffic. People get soooooo touchy when you are about to collide head-on with them. I got the bird from a one of those smart cars. Seriously, someone who drives a scooter with doors is in no position to cast judgement.

I have always promised to remain honest with this blog. I have to admit that I haven't been as faithful with excercise as I ought to be. I still excercise several times a week but I need some motivation to do it more. Any ideas for some motivation? I got up this morning at 5 and got in some time of the elliptical, which, by the way, is my favorite machine. It's like pretend running. Also, my severe attention problems make it so I am easily bored. Gotta keep it fresh and find that same motivation for excercise that I had in the beginning.

If you eat chocolate cake while drinking Diet Coke, do they cancel each other out?

At this training there has been a huge amount of snacks offered. This afternoon we were served this chocolate cake that was plainly made by angels from heaven. It looked so delicious. I wanted to eat the entire cake, I compromised and ate half of a small slice. It's okay though, because I chugged a Diet Coke with it so they definately cancel each other out. When I began working in health care I was quickly introduced to this way of thinking. Health care professionals are some of the most unhealthy people I have ever encountered. I don't mean for that to sound negative but it seems that we are all so busy taking care of others that we often forget about taking care of ourselves. If only there was a magical combination that counteracts bad food choices.............looks like I have some inventing to do. ;)

This one is for you........

Today is my 27th birthday. Some days I feel like I am about 75. Other days, I barely feel 16. Some days I feel like I have a grip on reality; others I feel like I am barely hanging on. Such is life, I guess. Maybe one of these days I will get it all figured out but hopefully not, 'cuz what fun would that be?

I often wonder what my 18 year old self would have to say about where my life has taken me. Back then I had it all figured out......I just thought I knew exactly who I was and what I was going to do with my life. In retrospect, I didn't know jack. Turns out being awesome does not constitute a profession and that when you go to college, a major will eventually become a necessary evil. I would have laughed my ass off if someone would have told me I would be doing what I am doing today and that I would be loving it. Funny how things turn out. Pretty much, my life is everything I never knew I always wanted.

I must admit, my first 27 years have been pretty outstanding but there is a part of my heart that is heavy with the celebration of my 27th year. For the last three years, I have been unable to spend my birthday with my best friend and until the good Lord calls me home, he will be absent from the celebration, but if I know Bubba, he has never been one to miss a party, so as this day in tinged with sorrow, I know that he is watching over and celebrating as well. (Probably drinking a few Old Milwakee Lights with Grandma and Poppa)

Being almost four years older than I, Bubba always got to do everything before I did. By the time I was old enough to do something, he had done it, it was old news... He went to school first, he learned to drive first, he went to college first, so on and so forth. Turning 27 is the first thing that I have ever done that he didn't get a chance to do. The thought makes my universe stall and humbles me to a point where there are no words......The only comfort I am given is that, that kid lived the hell out of the 26 years he was given.

My friend, Fallon, shared with me these words shared by her pastor: "When you lose a child, you lose your future. When you lose a parent, you lose your past; but when you lose a sibling, you lose your past, your present, and your future."

I am going to be honest, there are times that I am so damn mad that Ethan was denied the opportunity to live a long life that I cannot even process it. Sometimes I am mad at God. Sometimes I don't even know who my anger is directed at.  For the last three years I have let that loss and that anger take over my life. I turned to food to comfort me when I couldn't comfort myself. To fill the void, the remove the emptiness I felt in my soul. Look where that got me.

The loss of my brother will always be the cross that I bear, that my family bears; but it will no longer control me. So the only fitting way to honor my brother on my 27th year and to know that his death wasn't in vain, is to get healthy. Get healthy for me, for my family, and for him. Every year that he was denied, I vow to live with the same borderline reckless abandon and zest that he would have. I am going to stop hiding behind my grief. I am going to face it.

This one is for you, Bubba!

Community Responsibility???????????

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uIwBwJzl5eI

If you haven't heard about Jennifer Livingston, please take a moment to view the above link.

Every feeling, every emotion that I have ever felt when someone points out my weight issues are summed up perfectly by Jennifer. As she states, it isn't the fact that she cannot handle the truth, she is overweight, she knows that,  it's the fact that the gentleman, who dispensed his opinion without a request for it, went about his message in an entirely inappropriate manner. His tactic apparently was to bully her into his ideal of what was healthy.

From what I can see, Jennifer Livingston is an accomplished reporter. She is poised and educated. She is charming, confident and beautiful. She is a daughter, a mother, a wife, a sister, a friend, and a professional. Yet the author of the letter states she is not a proper role model for the public, especially young girls. So, the message he is sending is the previous mentioned attributes mean nothing if an individual weighs over 125 pounds. I am sorry but Body Mass Index has nothing to do with a woman's accomplishments and postive traits and I believe his beliefs are archaic, to say the least.

In the words of Bob Marley, "If you are going to point fingers, make sure your hands are clean." I don't specifically know the author of the email to Mrs. Livingston, however, I have met several variations of him throughout my life. Those who are insecure with themselves typically have to point of the flaws of others to build themselves up.

The statistics that I have read about bullying, quite frankly, scare me. One out of four teens are bullied every day.  As if growing up isn't hard enough? It is such a struggle trying to find your place in the world. For most of us, it takes years and years to figure out where we belong and who we are. Hell, I'm a week away from being 27 and I still don't know.

When I was 13 years old, I was at a Jr. High track meet. A boy from a town west of Kearney was at this particular track meet. For a whole year, every time I saw this boy at sporting events he made some remark about my weight or some gesture insinuating that I was a big ol' heffer. Like I said, this happened many times over that year. Finally, at this particular track meet, I had, had about enough. When he verbalized how fat I was, I lost control and decked his ass. Now, I'm not saying what I did was right. Violence is never the answer and it was on this day I retired my boxing gloves and decided I was a lover not a fighter.

 Please take in mind that none of this happened in privacy. We were in front of our coaches and teammates along with other surrounding schools. We had an audience. Our coaches intervened. I remember waiting while my coach went and got my mom. I knew my ass was grass. I was fairly certain my parents would frown upon such a thing. The wait seemed like forever.........finally my mom appeared from the bleachers. I braced myself. She was going to crucify me in public. To my surprise, she trotted right passed me, went up to that boy's coach, put her hand on her hip, stuck her finger in that coaches face, and said, "This WILL be the last time that boy speaks to my daughter like that and he WILL apologize.". If you know my mother, you know that if you see a hand on the hip and a finger in the air, you probably have a few problems on your hands. The coach, knowing that the women in my family were prone to violent outbursts, did his best to diffuse the situation.

Ultimately, the boy had to apologize to me plus I'm sure having his ass whooped by a girl knocked him down a few pegs. When my mom told my dad about the day's spectacles, my dad stated in the wise way he always does, "What goes around, comes around, baby girl." He then said, "Don't tell mom, but I am proud as hell of you." As I said above, violence is never the answer. I had cosequences for my actions and had to answer for what I did.

  I saw that boy many, many times throughout the remainder of our school years. He always seemed to be on his best behavior.....Years later I found out (on the news) that, that boy had been subject to huge issues with domestic violence in his home life. For years, I carried around this hatred for him, when I heard what he had to endure, what his family had to endure, the only feelings I had for him were those of sympathy. Cruelty is learned. It wasn't his fault. I know that now.

The moral of the story: this all occurred approximately 14 years ago and I remember it like it was  yesterday. I remember the boy's name and probably always will. I remember his words. I remember his taunts.  Fourteen years and the actions of a troubled young man are ingrained in brain, in my soul.

 Also ingrained in my soul is the out-pouring of my family and friends. I found out that my mom got a little feisty when it came to matters of her children's heart. That my dad would always be proud of me for standing up for myself and for what I believe in. That my friends, my true friends, would love me regardless of what I looked like and what others had to say about it.

So, dear friends, choose your words kindly. For once they are said, they are rarely forgotten and almost always taken to heart.

And to Kenneth Krause (the author of the letter to Jennifer Livingston) please refer to my blog posting: nine, subheading: three, paragraph: four.