Nothing But My Version of Ordinary

I did something that I've said that I'd never do this weekend: I flew into Flint, Michigan.

To understand why I said I'd never go back, you have to understand that my father (aka my sperm donor) is in the psychotic homicidal end of the crazy spectrum. The last time I was here, I was 8 years old and we drove out in the middle of the night so my father wouldn't know we were leaving. I don't exactly have good memories of this town, and I swore up and down that I'd never be back.

I had every intention of sticking to that idea, but my Grandpa and my Uncle still live here and my Grandpa wound up in the ICU this weekend, so I got on a plane Friday and I'm sitting in the airport to go home right now. Yay for free WiFi. Grandpa was admitted last Sunday night with a GI bleed. The GI doctor removed a colon polyp on Wednesday and we all thought that was that, but on Thursday Grandpa started hemmorhaging again so they took him back for emergency surgery. It turned out that he had diverticulosis that had turned most of his colon necrotic, so the surgeron took out most of his colon. Grandpa scared all of us half to death on Friday. He was still on the ventilator when we got to the hospital and looked like death warmed over. He was able to come off the vent on Saturday and has been making steady progress since then. He'll have a colostomy for a while, but the surgeon thinks he can reattach things in a few months. Grandpa should be moved into a regular room today, so I felt like it was safe to get on a plane home.

You really don't know the definition of "depression" until you visit Flint. The town is economically very depressed, since its economy was largely based on General Motors plants that have shut down one by one over the years. When you drive through the town, at least every third house is boarded up and vacant. In some areas, there will be one occupied house on an entire block. People don't smile in the stores, and you don't see kids playing outside. Aside from the economic depression, it feels like a cloud of bad feelings come over you when you touch down in the Flint airport. Some of it is just me and my negative associations with this town, but some of it is just this place.

I just might kiss the dirt when my plane lands in San Antonio later this afternoon.

We had a staff meeting at work this week like we do most Wednesdays. Staff meetings usually make me wish I was anywhere but there, and this week was no exception to the rule. The topic this week was "Wellness". There's a big push in corporate America right now to encourage physical fitness amongst employees in order to create healthier and therefore less costly workers. School districts are no exception.

My assistant principal announced that they'd be offering a circuit training class for faculty twice a week for those that were interested in participating. I'm all in favor of something like that when it's on a voluntary level, but my AP crossed the line. She announced that once a month would be "Wellness Wednesday" and that everyone would go out to the gym to work out.

I have no intention of working out with my co-workers. While I tend to project confidence, in reality I'm anything but, especially when it comes to my body. I'm uncomfortable working out in front of my husband, and he's the father of my children, so why on earth would I want to subject myself to sweating and jiggling in front of the people I try my best to maintain a level of professionalism with?


We drill this into the subconscious of our girls from a very early age. I can remember being in middle school and being at an after school practice for the middle school dance team that I was on. The dance teacher sat all of us down and passed out a packet on ways to lose weight. I was 12 and hadn't hit puberty yet. I was a little chunky because I was getting ready to grow, and like a lot of kids I tended to pack on a few extra pounds and then shoot up. Why on Earth was that acceptable to do to young girls?

On one hand, women are expected to be thin and in shape, but on the other hand, we're expected to work a full time job and also be perfect moms and wives. We're expected to give 100% to everyone all the time, and we're expected to do it all in heels and perfect attire. Most working moms spend so much time taking care of everyone else that they have very little time to take care of themselves, and then we wonder why nutrition and exercise take a backseat to being able to just sit still for a few moments. Which responsibility gets sacrificed so that meals that are healthy and homecooked make it on to the table? Work? Children? Husband? Do you sacrifice sleep to get a workout in? Do you just leave your child in the care of someone else so you can do it all?

It would be nice to open a magazine and not see something like "The Return of Curves"  applied to a size 4 model. It'd be nice to not feel like you're under constant scrutiny because of your figure. If I feel this way at a healthy weight, I can only imagine what it's like for people that struggle with weight.