The 5th anniversary of my 29th birthday is in a little over 3 weeks and I’ve been thinking about things that I’ve learned about myself over the years. I’m nosy. I have an extraordinary memory, which passes for intelligence about 95% of the time. I will probably never be a morning person no matter how hard I try. I can be very envious and insecure…and I have an absolutely incredible tolerance for pain.
That last part is going to sound like bragging when I explain it, but it’s really not. When I know something is SUPPOSED to hurt, I let it hurt. Case in point: I had horrible dry socket after my wisdom teeth were extracted because no one remembered to give me a syringe and the instructions to prevent dry socket. So when I was in pain 2 and then 3 weeks later, I just thought, “Well I just had surgery. It’s supposed to hurt.” The oral surgeon was appalled at my final visit. I’ve had the same thing happen to me in the ER on Christmas Eve with strep throat*, from the neurosurgeon who diagnosed those ruptured discs in my neck, and from a different neurosurgeon after the operation to remove those ruptured discs. “How are you sitting here without writhing and crying? Why aren’t you asking for more pain meds? Why aren’t you taking the ones we gave you?” or something along those lines. My answer is always the same: “I’m sick, I’m injured, I just had surgery. It’s SUPPOSED to hurt, right?! Complaining doesn’t help.” I just always assume that the amount of pain I’m in is the amount I’m supposed to be in and deal with it. Evidently some of you are whiny little drug-seeking bitches, though.
That being said, while I do have an incredible tolerance for pain, I have ZERO tolerance for discomfort. I hosted a bridal shower for my friend Lea many years ago, the weekend Pope John Paul II died (great memory, right?). I was outside planting flowers in pots for several hours the day before the shower. It was early April in Baton Rouge, sunny but not hot, and there was a lovely breeze. It was a beautiful day. For a week after, my lips feel like they were constantly covered in cellophane and it was all I could do to get out of bed. I don’t think I talked about anything else for a week except which lip balms I liked and which I didn’t. In the case of discomfort, complaining does help because it makes others around me miserable too and, seriously, why should I suffer alone?
If the thermostat is too hot or cold, I’m dying. Bug bites and paper cuts make me want to check myself into a mental ward for a sedative. People have found me in my office before, rubbing myself on a door jamb trying to scratch my back like a cartoon bear. I really would rather be stabbed in the gut than sleep in a room that doesn’t have a fan. I’m the whiny little bitch in this scenario and I’m ok with that.
What does all this nonsense have to do with my plan? Well…summer 2013 is going to be The Summer of Dominique’s Discomfort. For starters, I’ve signed myself up for a 7:30 am Zumba class on campus. This isn’t a fun class that I can drop anytime. This is for credit and I will be assigned a grade. I don’t need this class to graduate, but it only cost $60 more and for 2 months of Zumba, I might as well. Did I mention the part about not being a morning person or liking to sweat? What have I done? Did I mention also that I’m a former smoker and since my knee surgery 14 years ago I have become about as limber as a rusty lawn chair?
Also, I signed up for one of those Color Runs at the end of June and roped 2 friends into joining me. It’s a 5K. I haven’t started training AT ALL yet, and I haven’t run in…EVER. My whole life I have been able to swim a mile before I could run one, so that’s gonna suck — and I paid money to do this. Holy shit.
Once I lose some weight, I want to start biking again. For now balancing all this heft on my hoo-ha on a bike hurts my hiney more than is worth it. That will be later in the summer.
I’m going off sugar. I’ve done an Atkins-esque plan before. No, it’s not high protein. No, it’s not all bacon. You basically eat your body weight in veggies. Look it up. I feel a lot better when I do that and I have a lot more energy but that first week is a bear. None of you are going to want to give me even the slightest criticism on Facebook, Twitter, over the phone or in person or we might both end up on the news. What is the opposite of the Twinkie defense?
I’m going to be in school (the Zumba plus another easy class) and working this summer. At the same time I have plans to do a lot of HR and finance education to make myself more valuable at work. That won’t be uncomfortable but will be a bit time-consuming. My summer reading list is already at about 8 books and that doesn’t include anything for school yet. I’m very lucky to have a cool boss who is grooming me for bigger things. ”Learn More Stuff” is actually my number one summer assignment.
There is still the elephant in the room with Dad, and considering my birthday and Father’s Day always go hand-in-hand, at some point some awkwardness will have to be addressed there…I hope. I’ve reached out. We’ll see.
What has inspired all of this apart from this blog and all of you? Two friends that I HATE. Remember when I said I could be envious? I really can. And I don’t hate them in the way I hate Al-Qaeda or Gwyneth Paltrow. I’m not angry at them. I hate them in a way that you can only hate someone you really love. The truth is that I adore them both but they have achieved so much while I have been stagnating that it just makes me sick with happiness, admiration and seething, undying jealousy. They are AWESOME and I am NOT (yet). They’ve been through the pain already and I have yet to begin.
Julia** lives in Portland and is raising 2 wonderful boys with her husband. I lived with her for a while in college and she was never ever fat, but she was not the lean machine she is today! She’s taken up fitness as her life’s purpose pretty much and she looks amazing. Even more than the changes to her appearance, though, she has achieved so much. She has run a couple full marathons, I think. I know at least one was for Team In Training, so she did a good deed there. She did an Olympic-distance Ironman, I think. She routinely does half-marathons and smaller triathlons. Some of that may be wrong, I have no idea. All I know is she has a shitload of medals and I have an assload of cellulite. She is in incredible shape and really enjoys what she’s doing. I’m jealous.
My friend John** lives in Houston and he has recently lost something crazy like…200 pounds. I don’t know the exact number but it’s a lot. He was depressed and fat (I’m familiar) and something just clicked for him one day. He went to a medically-supervised weight loss program, began working out, and now he’s lost all this weight, toned up, and has also been bitten with the running and triathlon bug. His confidence has gone through the roof. He’s a fitness evangelist now that makes Jimmy Swaggart look like some stuttering wallflower in comparison. He is so much healthier, so much more vibrant and a real inspiration. Again, I’m jealous.
And I know I could do something about it and change my life but it’s just so much easier to sleep in, to watch Netflix instead of studying, to order pizza instead of cooking for myself, and make “easy” choices instead of difficult ones. BUT…since hopping out of my comfort zone accidentally worked so well earlier this year, that’s what I’ve got to do now. I’m slowly learning that lesson. The fact is, this summer is probably going to suck. Maybe even more than the summer of mental illness or neck brace. It’s going to be sweaty and uncomfortable and painful but hopefully I’ll be better for it at the end…waist a little smaller and brain a little bigger, or more wrinkly or something.
My official motto: Embrace the Discomfort. It’s Definitely Going to Suck, But It Probably Won’t Kill Me.
Will keep you posted! Any words of encouragement would be wonderful, but I’m warning you guys…June 1 and all the carbs are gone. At that point, any criticism will be viewed as an act of war.
Hope everyone had a great long weekend! – HRGF
*Don’t ever go to the ER on Xmas eve. The morgue will feel sorry for the ER staff and send up a ham. Apart from the gross irony of getting meat from the morgue, the ER staff will be overjoyed at ham and will forget about you for 2 hours.
**Names and locations changed to protect friends I hate. With love. But then I put up their pics so whatever.