Distortion

I was going through a box of old papers the other day and came across a picture of me and two of my friends at my 8th grade continuation. I was shocked at the picture. When I looked at the picture, I saw three young girls standing together, their arms around each other and smiling into the camera. All three girls were wearing Gunny Sac dresses, the hot brand at the time. All three girls were the same size.

The picture shocked me, because I was sure that I was much larger than the other girls. My mom had made my Gunny Sac dress, rather than buying it in a store, because my dress had to be a special size. When my mom made my clothes, she always cut them a little wider than the pattern called for to hide my weight. I learned at an early age that my chubbiness was a shameful thing that I needed to hide. From the time I was six, when the doctor told my mother, “Madam, this child is obese,” I was on one diet after another.

So, on that happy day of my eighth grade continuation, with my friends, Melanie and Betsy, there was a shadow, because I was wearing a special Gunny Sac dress.

By ninth grade (just three months after that photo), I had finally lost the weight that had plagued me since my childhood. I was barely a size five. When I lay on ┬ámy bed, I could place a ruler on my hip bones and slide my hand in the space between the ruler and my stomach. Yet, when I looked in the mirror, I still saw the obese girl–unsightly bulges, fat thighs. My mom still sewed for me, but now she said she could buy “normal” patterns.

During college, my weight began to creep up. I jumped up to 112 pounds. My mother became concerned. By the end of college, I weighed 130 pounds. My mother encouraged me to go on a diet. We went shopping for clothes for my first job. She went with me so I would buy the right clothes to hide my weight. When I looked in the three way mirror, I still saw that obese little girl. I despaired that I had let myself gain all this weight and vowed to diet. I spent the rest of the summer on a grueling 1000 calorie a day diet. I lost a mere seven pounds. My mom said I still had a ways to go. When I looked in the mirror, an obese girl stared back at me.

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Change in Tagline

I decided to change my tagline. I don’t want to be known as a procrastinator anymore. I am trying very hard to change that habit. If I proclaim it on my blog, I am still owning the title. Procrastinating makes my life a lot more stressful than it needs to be. I have sat through so many marathon grading sessions. I always wait until Sundays to do my papers for my PhD program. I always get A’s, but I’d rather relax on Sunday rather than stress out. I want to be one of those people who gets things done.

Better

I have a morning journal that I write in. It’s called the Sunrise Manifesto. It’s a guided journal that also serves as a simple daily planner. One of the prompts makes me think of how I can make my day better. I like that idea. Rather than beating myself up for what I didn’t do yesterday, I think about what I could have done better and what I will do today to improve. It reminds me that I can always do better. Each day is a fresh start. With this mind set, I have started to move ahead on more of my goals. I have started to make writing a part of my daily life (with this blog). I have started to tackle the clutter in my house (cleaned my desk–baby steps). I have started eating more healthily (cutting out the junk food before dinner). I have found that it’s the small steps moving forward that are helping me make things better.

via Daily Prompt: Better

Panicked

Panicked–how I felt when I got out of the car and realized the dress I was wearing was completely wrong for my job interview. It was too late now. The interview was in five minutes. I had bought three dresses for my interview and all three of them were wrong. This was the least objectionable and it was all wrong! I had to teach a demonstration lesson with kids I didn’t even know in about 30 minutes. All I could do was march in there and hold my head up.

Panicked–how I felt when I looked over during my demonstration lesson and noticed a girl out of her seat. She was shaking her water bottle full of pop and getting ready to spray it all over me and the other students at her table. Luckily, I noticed her in time and grabbed the offending bottle.

“I’ll take that,” I said.

“But it’s mine,” she said, her lip trembling.

I set it in front of the director who was observing me. He was oblivious.

Panicked–how I felt when the director was showing me the campus. The run-down playground, the abandoned field they used for P.E. The classrooms without computers or books. How can students learn here? I wondered.

I had a lot of ideas for how I would help those students, but I didn’t get that job. I didn’t panic, though. Sometimes, things happen for a reason.

via Daily Prompt: Panicked

There’s None Left

Sometimes, I wake up and I think, There’s none left. I don’t have anymore to give. I get up anyway and face the day. My son, Hunter, smiles at me and tells me he loves me. He always has something to give. I think, I can face the day for him.

I go to school. One of my students, D’Avonte, the one who used to hate me who now calls me his second mother, says, “Mom, can I sit by you today?” I think, I can face the day for him.

I go to the office. In my box is a letter from Safaa, it says, “Thank you for teaching me to be a leader, and not a follower.” I think, I can face the day for her.

I go to class. Hope hugs me without saying a word. I think, I can face the day for her.

I go to pick up Hunter from school. He dances when he sees me. I think, I had more to give after all.

 

via Daily Prompt: None

Control

So many things are out of my control lately. I lost my teaching job after 15 years of loyal service. No one is calling me for an interview. My mother’s health is declining. My son is growing up. I am growing older.

While I can’t control these things, I can focus on the things I can control.

I can get up every morning and go to my teaching job for the last few weeks I have it. I can continue to make a difference until the last day.

I can write every day. I can share my unique perspective with the world and learn from the perspectives of others.

I can make choices to improve my health and my outlook on life. I can eat healthy foods and exercise.

Maybe, I can’t control the challenges that life chooses to give me, but I can control how I choose to meet them.

via Daily Prompt: Control

Apprentice

No matter how long I teach, I will always be an apprentice. Just when I feel I have mastered my art, I discover a new technique or a new philosophy. Each new year brings me a fresh canvas, a clean sheet of paper. New students, fresh supplies. As in art, teaching allows me to have a fresh start every year. I can try something new every year. I can continue to revise and develop my craft, and, although I will never reach perfection, neither will I stagnate.

My Commitment

I have decided to stop dreaming about becoming a writer and start writing. I saw a quote today that said, “I am only a writer when I am writing.” Whenever I ask myself what I want to do with my life, the only answer that resounds in my mind is “write.” By starting a blog, I am committing to becoming a writer. I can only become a writer if I am writing.