Day 17...DIVA INTERRUPTED

I slid out of my car and instead of replacing my driving shoes with my high heels; I decided to just walk up to the security door with my flip flops on. Yall should have seen me… I had my strut in full affect…well, as much as you CAN possibly strut in flats. As I walked, I was singing one of my favorite Bill Withers’ tunes, Lovely Day.
I guess the fact that I had even attempted my diva walk in pink and black Adidas flip-flops should have been my first clue that I was about to have a “Diva-Interrupted” moment.

SIGH

I flashed my badge in front of the door, and it opened as usual.

Before I go any further…let me explain how security works at my job. You swipe your badge and then a door slides open, allowing you to step into a circular security area. We call it a circle lock because for a few seconds, you are literally locked inside of this area while the floor beneath your feet weighs you and decides if you are who you say you are. Basically, the security system takes your weight form the past ten or so days and averages it out. If you weigh too much or to little, you are not allowed inside of the building without the assistance of a security guard.

Can you see where I’m going with this?

THE DAMN SCREEN SAID INVALID WEIGHT and then rejected me!

For a moment I tried to pretend like it didn’t happen, but after the third try, I figured I might want to ask for assistance before I caused any further embarrassment to myself.

DIVA-INTERRUPTED!

I attempted to tell myself that it was just my emotional and spiritual weight weighing me down….but deep down; I have to live with the fact that I’ve gained a wee bit of physical weight.

Yeah. It’s one of those DAMMIT moments.

Well Lord, you’re just NOT gonna melt the pounds off for me, huh? Guess I gotta actually stick to my diet and quit playing around.

I have to remind myself that the Lord answers even the SILLIEST of prayers. Like my prayer to magically get skinnier. He answered by putting “invalid weight” in that security door, reminding me that he doesn’t really help those who won’t help themselves. Good one, God. Ha ha.

Because of my recent high blood pressure scare (185/105) I have been told that strenuous exercise is a no-no for a little while. I no longer have the excuse of eating something and then working out. I’ve got to eat right at all times and walk at a slow pace until I’m cleared to go back to the gym.

Guess this means I won’t be getting that Burrito for lunch after all.

Day 16...Losing "Weight"

Recently I shed some of my spiritual weight and in doing so; I gained a feeling of stability that I’ve never before experienced.

I Samuel 15:22 states:

“Has the LORD as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the LORD? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, And to heed than the fat of rams.”

So although the LORD does delight in our “sacrifices”, be it in the form of time spent sitting in a church pew, time spent in the community, tithes, etc… what he really wants is our OBEDIENCE.

If you read my previous Blog, you know that I had to let go of a relationship that meant the world to me. I am sad, of course, and I miss him, but I don’t feel the normal devastation that I usually experience after a break-up. Instead, I feel as if I’ve finally released some of my spiritual weight.

You see, I’ve never had a problem obeying the Lord as long as what he required of me fit into MY game plan.

The Lord said Love Andru, and I did. The Lord said, cherish Andru, and I did. The Lord said, help Andru, and I did. The Lord said, do not fornicate with Andru, and I said, “Beg your pardon?”

I realize now that I spent a lot of time picking and choosing which commandments to obey. When my children disobey me I punish them. It doesn’t mean that I don’t love them, it doesn’t mean that I don’t care, but I am the LAW in my house and my kids can either get with the program, or they can lose what they cherish most.

If it is so easy for us to lay down the law in our own homes…why is it so hard for us to OBEY the law that the ultimate Daddy has set before us?

Pastor Kimberly told me that the hardest relationship to be in is a Christian relationship. Why? Because the world will always be there to tempt us to do things that are reserved for married couples.

We agreed to remain celibate until marriage. That didn’t last long, but we still felt convicted enough to feel guilty about it and try again to resist temptation. Eventually, the convition and guilt fade away as we become comfortable in our sins. God didn't want that to happen to me.

Funny thing about God. Like any good parent, He loves us through our disobedience, but he’s not going to reward rebellious behavior. I wish my daughter WOULD blatantly disobey me and then turn around and ask me for five dollars.

Guess what. We play God like this every single day.

We sin against him and then expect him to bless us because we paid our tithes or because we haven’t missed a Sunday service in five years…guess what? You can go to Church every single Sunday and tithe 100% of your paycheck and God will look at you and ask, “What is this? A down payment on your sin? Do you think that you can do whatever you want as long as you give me a little time and some money?”

Almost sounds like we’re trying to PIMP God.

I tried to play God. I tried to pretend that as long as I asked for forgiveness everything was fine.

I can remember asking my ex-husband once, “Aren’t you sick of telling me that you’re sorry? Why can’t you just do right by me?”

Ironic isn’t it? We ask mere humans to give us the same level of respect that God expects of us…and yet we refuse to give it to him.

GOD loves me but I could only ignore him so many times before he decided to take away what I cherished. I’m not mad at him. I would have done the same thing to my own child. In fact, I have.

I cried off and on for two days but God has other plans for me. He told me that I can’t have a relationship with ANYONE until I establish a relationship with HIM.

Yesterday I woke up and went to Andru's Facebook page so that I could just look at his picture …only to find that his page was gone. After crying all night, I started crying all over again. Instinctively, I clicked on a Facebook application called “Message From God.”

The message said: “On this day God wants you to know that all is well. All is going according to plan. Trust that there is a bigger picture. Trust that life is unfolding as it should.”

So, I dried my tears and asked myself this question: "What good is obeying God if I don’t trust him enough to take care of me?" God knows what is best for me and it’s time for me to follow HIS lead.

I’m choosing obedience. What are you choosing?

Day 5...Psalm 27

I really don’t feel like Blogging today and yet, here I am, typing away as if my life depends on it. Honestly, it does depend on it. Blogging is a commitment I’ve made to myself and I know that if I can push myself to maintain my normal routine on a day when I’m feeling under the weather, just imagine what I can achieve when I’m at 100 percent?

Too often I’ve used sickness or exhaustion as an excuse not to live up to my potential. I’ve lived with a victim mentality for far too long. I’ve allowed myself to dwell on the things that have happened TO me, instead of concentrating on making things happen FOR me.

I am sick as hell today. I have a horrible headache and I’ve been literally dealing with terrible nausea, vomiting, and other stomach problems ALL MORNING. All I wanna do is leave work and go back to bed, but if I allow myself to allow being sick to stop me from achieving my goals today…I’ve allowed sickness to happen TO me. Today, I am going to use my illness as motivation instead of a tool of procrastination. Today I’m going to look sickness in the eye and tell it to hit me as hard as it can…I’m a child of God and there is nothing an army of germs can do to keep me from my destiny. No weapon formed against me shall proper. I’m wearing God’s gas mask so just keep playing, devil. Your germ warfare ain’t got nothing on my God’s Grace.

Psalm 27:3, New Living Bible Translation:

Though a mighty army surrounds me, my heart will not be afraid. Even if I am attacked, I will remain confident.

Traditionally, this is how it happens. I start going to the Gym each day. I miss one day, and I get sick. If you read Day Three of my Blog, you will understand what I mean by that.

I pushed through Day three of my workout; however I skipped day four, not because I was being lazy, but because I had a very important task to complete.

My brother-in-law is marrying a wonderful woman and I love, love, love her. When she sent me a text asking for my help in making wedding invitations, I skipped my workout to make that happen.

This morning, I woke up sick. See…the devil sometimes uses sickness as a way to keep me from being at my best. For once, my first impulse was NOT to call in sick to work and climb back into bed. Instead, I brushed my teeth a few more times and drove to work. When my symptoms hit me again as I was sitting at my desk…I took a short break, did what I needed to do, and went back to work. I’m not leaving. I’m not running a fever, I’m not contagious.

When I felt that familiar “woe is me” mentality creeping into my thoughts…I went to Pandora.com and started playing my gospel radio station. When I surround myself with the WORD, nothing can approach that force field without being rebuked.

God has my back. I’m not ailing because He doesn’t love me. I’m ailing because He DOES love me and there is a valuable lesson that I need to learn right now.

I need to learn to keep praising Him through it all…and NOT give up.

Now, I’m no dummy. I understand that at some point during this day, I’m going to have to lie down and take care of myself. I know that I can’t go to the gym today. I know that I won’t be working in my garden this evening. But I’m not going to let that keep me from my goals. I can’t work on my physical today, but I can keep thinking positive thoughts and work on my MENTAL. I can pick up my Bible and work on my SPIRITUAL.

For some reason I keep being led to read Psalm 27. It’s as if God is constantly reminding me that I have nothing to fear. He’s carrying me through the lows and lifting my head above the clouds so that I can see the sunshine despite the rain.

Keep your umbrella. I’m covered by God.

Day 4...Breaking Down the FAT

I was recently asked if I thought the title of my Blog would offend overweight people. It’s a legitimate question, but I responded with a heartfelt, “I don’t care.”

I really don’t. I think that our society has become so politically correct that people tend to be offended by the wrong things.

My Blog is called Diary of a Mad Fat Woman. First of all, “DIARY” is a word that denotes the recording of private thoughts. “OF A” refers to an individual. “MAD” refers to the state of mind of the “FAT WOMAN” recording her private thoughts.

This is MY diary. I’m MAD, I’m FAT, and I’m a WOMAN.

In other words…this diary is about ME…not you, not your mom, not your auntie, not your cousin, not your best friend. It’s all about Ebony Farashuu and I make no apologies.

Let’s talk about the word FAT.

I know that it’s ridiculous to some when they see a woman standing at 5 feet six inches tall and weighing in at 164 pounds call herself fat. Technically, I know that I’m not FAT in the traditional sense of the word, but I AM overweight and it is more than just a physical thing.

Strategically, I look good in my clothes. I say “strategically” because sometimes I wear spanx when it’s too hard to suck in my belly. Sometimes I will place a cute belt in places that bring more attention to my boobs than my gut. I wear heels to augment my strut and bring attention to the length of my legs, and I try not to wear tight fitting shirts that have the potential to enhance my baby rolls. I love skinny jeans because they compliment my thickness without cutting off my circulation and creating the dreaded “muffin top.”

When friends tell me that I’m perfectly built, I sometimes jokingly say, “You haven’t seen me naked.”

There is no strategy when you take your clothes off. When it’s just me and my mirror, I see what only God and my sweetheart see. Yes, they see perfection in my proportions, but they are blinded by their love for me. I love me too, but in a way that allows me to really SEE myself in a way that helps me see the improvements I want to make physically. I say “want” instead of “need” because I don’t need to change my physical appearance to BE pretty. But I DO need to change my physical appearance in order to FEEL pretty.

I need to lose weight because it will directly affect my physical health. It will lower my blood pressure, and it will boost my metabolism as well as my resistance to sickness. Becoming physically fit will allow me to stop “pretending” to let my neighbor’s little girl catch me when she chases me up the sidewalk. She’s 7! I should be able to outrun her little legs without getting winded after passing the second house!

Physically, my definition of FAT means overweight. I’m MAD at myself for taking my health for granted. I’ve only got one life and I want to live it FULLY. I’m just mad enough to stop talking about what I want to do and actually DO something about it!

I am MENTALLY fat.

I have allowed the actions and opinions of others to directly affect my mentality and I need to shed the excess weight that I have allowed to accumulate on my mind! The heaviness of my psyche almost took my life. I once became so used to being a victim that when I realized that I was no longer going to let a man hurt me, I overcompensated by becoming mean and heartless instead. Guess what! I was still a victim. I had allowed the overwhelming need to take control of my life change my heart.

This wasn’t completely a bad thing. During that mental transition I learned that if a man couldn’t at LEAST love me as much as I loved myself, he needed to keep stepping. I have AGAPE love for myself. I love myself the way that GOD loves me and any man that can’t do that does not belong in my life. That’s a fact.

I spoiled myself. I learned to do things for myself. I learned that I HAD to take care of myself before I could take care of anyone else. I learned that not every sacrifice was a necessary sacrifice and I needed to stop sacrificing MY standards and MY priorities to please someone else.

At the same time, I learned to live with a certain NO TOLERANCE mentality that pretty much shaped the past year of my life.

“I don’t get mad. I just delete you.”

And I did. Any man who hurt my feelings was immediately deleted from my phone book, my Facebook, and my email, with no possibility of a second chance. My reasoning was, if he could hurt me once, he would hurt me again, so why set myself up for drama? I had learned to anticipate the worst in people in order to keep myself from falling in love or being disappointed.

Eventually I would let that man back into my life, but NEVER as anything more than a casual friend to be kept at a distance. My heart was closed.

It’s not healthy to live that way…always anticipating the worst, getting rid of a person before they have a chance to do emotional harm, building an unbreakable wall around yourself, and constantly afraid of being hurt. Sometimes you have to take a chance.

This past summer I actually took a chance on a man and found myself compromising my happiness to conform into his version of the perfect Ebony.

Of course, when I realized what was happening and left him alone… the “new” me became even “newer” and, pardon my French, but I got even harder, gaining a “fuck them before they can fuck you” mentality. Once again, it was all about me and I didn’t care how my attitude affected anyone else.

A good guy friend of mine told me that I acted like a man with breasts. I had all the benefits of being a woman with the mind of a man.

I now realize that a major part of my lack of “girly” emotions was directly related to my addiction to the anti-depressant, Zoloft. I no longer have that medication as an emotional crutch. Now I have to deal with the side effects of withdrawal which, at time, consist of nausea, exhaustion, confusion, and sudden mood swings. I can be happy one minute and then crying the next.

All I can do is pray about it and stand my ground as I resist the temptation to take the pills to keep from feeling these emotions. I’m human. I’ve got to deal with it and I know that one day this weight will be lifted and I will no longer be MENTALLY FAT.

I am SPIRITUALLY fat.

I’m not new to church but I’m new to establishing a close relationship with God and trusting Him to fulfill all of my needs. Those who know me understand that although my ex-husband and I officially divorced in 2004, we reconciled and became a couple again in 2005. We stayed together for four more years but did NOT re-marry.

During the time of our separation I prayed and prayed for God to give me my husband back. I went to church. I tithed faithfully. I lived as righteously as I ‘could’. Then when My ex cried and begged his way back into my life I said, “Thanks God. Good Lookin’ out for a sistah.” And I never spoke to Him again….Until I needed Him.

Be careful what you hope for. Not every answered prayer is a blessing. Sometimes it is a lesson.

When I look back on that relationship, I realize that it was doomed from the start. I allowed myself to be used as a convenience and I bought into the false idea of happily ever after without having an official blessing from God.

When my ex-husband left me the second and final time, I was broken. I was hurt. I was depressed. I was shocked when I shouldn’t have been. Honestly, how could anything that was NOT of God be successful? How could anything built on a lie stand firmly through any storm? The foundation was all screwed up and I was too blind to acknowledge the tremors beneath my feet.

How can I gain a closer relationship with God if I don’t fully trust that EVERYTHING happens for a reason? How can I gain the relationship with Him that I want if I’m still holding onto the worldly things that are weighing my spirit down. It’s a process but I know that there are things that I need to STOP doing. It all boils down to a choice and while I feel better than I ever have spiritually, I know that there are still some weights on my ankles that need to come off before I can truly walk comfortably beside Him. Right now He’s still carrying me and I thank Him for that, but at some point, I need too be able to stand on my own. When I fully shed the weight of my sins, I will cease to be SPIRITUALLY FAT.

So, does the Diary of a Mad Fat Woman make more sense to you now? Keep taking this journey with me, keep praying for and with me, and keep holding me accountable to the goals I’m striving to achieve.

I love and appreciate you.

Fat woman out!

Day 2... What's My Name?

I’m Ebony ‘Muthafuckin’ Farashuu! Yeah, I said it and I mean it from the bottom of my heart. Sometimes you just have to look in the mirror and remind yourself of whom you really are. Wake up! You are a fabulous person and if anyone dares to think differently they obviously don’t belong in your life!

It’s a process, and nothing happens overnight, but the moment you can legitimately look at yourself in the mirror, flaws and all, and truly understand what a wonderful person God created the day you were conceived….life suddenly takes a dramatic turn into the land of happiness. Stars shine brighter, sugar tastes sweeter, and the things that used to hurt your feelings only add fuel to your fire, making you a stronger person.

My self appreciating epiphany came to me one morning after I realized I’d spend the past few days crying over a man who did not love, cherish, or deserve me. He thought that he could say or do whatever he wanted, keep me crying, and then walk back into my life at his own convenience. I admit that I was a little punk and cried for the first two days, but on day three I woke up, looked in the mirror and said…

“Wait a minute. I’m Ebony Muthafuckin’ Farashuu!”

With that said, I dried my eyes, put on my heels, and readjusted my strut. When you remember who you are, no one can keep you in a place of discontent. When you know who you are, you realize that you can’t control someone else’s actions, but you can damn sure control how you allow someone to treat you and how you respond to another person’s ignorance.

No man wants to be bothered with a woman while she’s crying and snotting over him. He has her where he wants her and as long as she’s crying, he can talk all the shit he wants and then come back later when he feels like dealing with her.

The moment a woman realizes who she is and truly believes it…she becomes attractive, not only to herself, but to the man who chose to keep her under his heel when she deserved to be at his side.

A few weeks later, when I saw his phone number pop up on my caller ID…I re-stated that I was Ebony Muthafuckin’ Farashuu and sent that bastard’s call directly to voice mail. When you realize who you truly are…you also realize that you have no room in your life for those who would choose to put you down rather than uplift you.

Ebony Farashuu is a Queen.

I woke up happy this morning. After a long day that seemed to drag on and on, I carried myself to the gym yesterday evening and spent a little time getting re-acquainted with all of the joints and muscles I’d forgotten about while I was eating all of those sweets or serving up that third helping of pasta.

The twenty minutes I spent on the treadmill was a piece of cake. I even did inclines at a speed of 3.5 miles per hour. It wasn’t until I hopped off the treadmill and plopped myself down on that ab machine did I have to humble myself and give into the pain that comes with crunches.

Yeah, I had planned on doing 100 quick crunches but ended up barely making it through 50. I had to laugh at myself as I realized that the 20 pound weights I was pulling with my arms as I attempted to lift my head with nothing but the force of my non-existent abs could quite possibly give me a heart attack. I didn’t really understand that I had muscles in my boobs until I pulled one. That hurt.

So, after my earth shattering 50 crunches, I hit my favorite piece of equipment in the gym…The Elliptical.

It was as if the red sea parted and a sunbeam broke through the ceiling and shined down on that machine. I could almost hear angels singing, “ahhhhhhhh”.

So I hopped my out of shape ass on the Elliptical and decided that I was going to actually explore the different settings available. Wow! There is a setting on the elliptical called “personal trainer”.
After lying about my weight and setting the machine for 20 minutes, I was ready to go. I was doing well until that damn machine started trying to tell me how fast to go. “Push with your arms, now, pull with your arms, now use only your legs.” I was cool, huffing and puffing, trying to keep pace and look as if I wasn’t having problems.

“Prepare to stop and change directions,” Flashed across the LED screen.

“WTF?” went through my mind.

I changed directions and realized that going backwards was a lot harder than going forward but I didn’t want to look like a punk so I kept going until the machine mercifully told me to change direction again.

It’s funny, cuz right before I got on the elliptical, I updated my Facebook status. The message was simple.

“I’m on an elliptical.”

When I got off of that machine, I almost had to update my status again.

“I’m on the floor.” (Thanks JJ.)

I was sore, and I was sweaty, but I was happy. That workout had given me a much needed boost of energy and I felt alive. I felt as if I could actually achieve my goals. My mind felt unworried, my mood had brightened, and although my muscles were stiff, I had enough pep in my step to strut to my car.

When I got to work this morning, I stepped off of the elevator, and as the rhythm of my theme song, “badmammajamma” ran through my head… I adjusted my purse on my shoulders and proceeded to walk that special walk that is guaranteed to turn heads and make people wonder how I could possibly have so much energy at 6am.

Out of shape, but still out of sight. Feeling good is the FIRST step to looking good and, I feel damn good today!

Yep, Ebony Muthafuckin Farashuu has her strut back.

Day 1...

Okay. Let me start out by letting you know that although I’m not fat by a normal American’s standards, if I were to walk up to Tyra Banks and tell her that I was America’s next top model, she would look at me as if I’ve lost my damn mind. I used to be “model skinny”. At age 25, six months after having my son, I was wearing size 2 jeans out of the junior section of any given department store. Look at that skinny girl to the left! That is ME at age 25 and 12o pounds!

At age 37, the junior section is a thing of the past and my fourteen year old daughter is now wearing all of the things I wish I could still fit.

By age 35, I was still wearing a size two but this time, the size two was from the ladies section and not from the same section that my daughter shops in. Womanly curves had replaced the sharp angles of my stick figure and for the first time in my life, I felt fat. I don’t have an eating disorder but going from weighing 120 pounds post baby, to weighing 150 pounds was a huge transition for me. I got used to those curves and learned to LOVE the new womanly me but it was a process. The picture to the right is ME loving the hell out of some curvaceous ME at age 35 and 150 pounds!

I got no sympathy because, in the eyes of many, I was just another skinny bitch looking for attention. It was beyond their comprehension to understand my mental anguish.

Let me explain something to you…I weighed 150 pounds when I was nine months pregnant. Pardon me for being horrified at the thought of actually weighing in at 150 pounds without the excuse of pregnancy. It wasn’t normal for me and the fact that people were blowing off my concerns as simple attention seeking really pissed me off.

Today, at age 37, I stand in the mirror in my bra and panties and see a woman who, at 164 pounds, could definitely stand to lose a few. I will NOT be posting that pic, but WILL possibly show you some pics later! LOL. I don’t like what I see. If I keep trying to suck this gut in, I’m going to pass out and I’m sick of seeing my daughter prance around in all of the jeans and t-shirts that I was prancing around in just this past summer.

She’s like a vulture…biding her time, waiting on me to pull up my pants halfway and then toss them on the floor in disgust when I realize they don’t fit. She’s always right there, ready to pick them up, shake them out, and hang them in her closet.

The last straw broke this camel’s back a few days ago. I had just gotten out of the shower and oiled myself down. I went to put on my favorite pair of jeans and after five or six tugs it was obvious that even if I DID manage to pull those jeans over my hips, I was not going not be able to breathe in them.

I peeled the jeans off of my thighs and walked in the living room where my daughter was lounging on the couch talking on the phone.

Without a word, I tossed the jeans to her and walked out of the room.

“Yesssss,” I heard her say. “It was only a matter of time.”

It was only a matter of time. My own daughter was sitting around waiting on me to get fatter so that she could have my favorite pair of jeans. Pardon my French, but Ain’t that some shit?

My son stares at me with pity in his eyes when he happens to see me in any state of undress.

“Mama, I’m not trying not be mean but…when are you going back to the gym?”

His favorite past time is poking me in the stomach. I wonder if he think’s I’ll eventually say “woo hooo” like the damn ‘Pillsbury Dough Boy’.

My boyfriend, bless his heart. He loves me no matter what. He tells me that I’m beautiful every single day and that I don’t have to change for him. He means this with all of his heart, but I’ve allowed myself to become too comfortable in the perfection he sees when he looks at me.

I’ve gained that happy weight that has me looking in the mirror like “what the hell happened?”

I used to be a badmammajamma…now I just feel like I look bad in my clothes.

I used to STRUT everywhere I went. This morning, when I got off of the elevator, I simply walked slowly to my desk. I’ve lost my strut. I can’t do it anymore. I want ME back. I want my strut back, I want my confidence back. I want to once again, look in the mirror and say to myself, “You go girl!”

I know that I will. This Blog is the first step. It’s not just about looking good. It’s about FEELING good. I have high blood pressure, migraine headaches, and I am currently suffering with the side effects of Zoloft withdrawal.

Losing weight and working out, and prayer are the first steps I am taking to restore my physical and mental health. This Blog will chronicle that journey and you’ll get to see me mentally naked…the good, the bad, and the ugly. God is still working on me so I’m not going to censor this blog. I’m going to say exactly what is on my mind. You have been forewarned. Hopefully, not only will you see my progress physically and mentally as the days go by, but spiritually as well.

I want my life back, and this is day 1.