My NMFA Phase

I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I was going to have a gain at weigh-in on Saturday morning.  I skipped weigh-in for two weeks, ate pretty much whatever I felt like, and guzzled soda like it runs through my veins.

So I was hardly shocked when I saw 163.2 on the scale, after reaching 157 just a few weeks ago.  After swearing I would never see the 160s again, here I am.  *sigh*

Well, not for long.  Seeing that gain, seeing the 160s again after fighting so hard to get out of them, pissed me off.  A lot.  I can do better than this!  This is shameful.  I have done nothing but screw around since my gain in December.  Lose, gain it back, lose again, gain again.

I would be so close to my goal weight right now that I could smell it, if I had stayed consistent.  Instead, I am right back where I was at the beginning of January as far as weight goes.

I am hereby officially in my No More F*cking Around (NMFA) phase!  (Maybe I will get that printed on a workout t-shirt.)  Pardon my language, but I am angry with myself for selling myself short like this.  I have waited so long to reach goal weight again.  I have been working way too hard to screw around and move away from my goal now.  It’s time to cut the crap and get to work like I mean it.

I have a birthday coming up in ten weeks.  How many times have I vowed to be at my goal weight by my birthday?  Too many to count.  And here I am, doing it again.  I am not going to disappoint myself again.  I can do so much better than half-assed.  And I will.

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Not Today

Have you ever heard of Kelly Herron?  Until yesterday afternoon, I never had.

Allow me to introduce you, in case you don’t know about her yet.  Kelly Herron is a runner who was attacked by a registered sex offender last year in Seattle.  She had taken a self-defense class where students were taught, among other things, to be loud and to fight savage, so that’s what she did.  She fought back, hit him over and over again, and kept yelling “Not today, motherf*cker!”  She ended up locking the abhorrent piece of trash in the bathroom until police arrived.

Her activity tracker mapped the entire attack:

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-4321070/GPS-tracker-shows-jogger-fought-attacker.html

The map lines from the activity tracker were combined with her battle cry of “Not today, motherf*cker!” for these t-shirts:

NTMF shirt
I want one!

Ms. Herron has used her experience to raise funds for survivors and to promote safety and the importance of self-defense.  The website, www.nottodaymf.com, has videos, interviews, blog entries, and links to her Facebook page, Instagram, and Twitter.

Just this month, during a race, Ms. Herron was groped by a man standing by the side of the road.  She said later that women are groped, grabbed, and harassed so often, and they just let it go.  She did not.  Even though she had already run 12 miles for the race, she chased down the pervert, and two bystanders helped detain him until police came to pick up the lousy excrement.

I have a lot of respect for her because she fought back.  She said “hell no” and meant it.  She refused to just accept Mr. Grabby-Pants, or women being expected to just silently deal with it and let it go.  I would love to have seen the pervert’s face when, instead of jogging on in mortified silence, she turned and came after him, shouting “Assault!  Assault!” to get others’ attention.

Apparently some people have expressed doubt about her being attacked twice.  Apparently, these people are not women, are not runners, have no brain cells, or live in a fantasy world.  What is so unbelievable about a woman being treated like shit twice in one lifetime?  Do these people read the news, or hell, just take a look around them once in a while?

Fortunately, I have never been viciously attacked while I am running, but I have been assaulted.  The worst was a man who first approached me while I was running at a park, and he jogged along beside me, big smile, trying to talk to me.  I told him I like to run alone and don’t like to be bothered while I’m running.  He nodded, fell back, and left me alone…I thought.

When I went to my car after my run and my stretch, I discovered he had either been following me or waiting for me in the parking lot.  Either way, as I got into my car, he suddenly appeared again, grabbing me, trying to force me to kiss him.  I turned my face away in disgust, and I was furious.  Was this my punishment for turning him down earlier?  What the hell gives these assholes a right to believe I have to be hurt for rejecting them?

I grabbed the door handle and slammed the door into his back.  He pulled his head away from me, yelling, and I slammed the car door into him again, then kicked him backwards.  He was surprised by it and stumbled away from my car.  I saw another guy coming across the parking lot, and since I had no idea if he intended to help me or to help the asshole, I shut the car door, locked it, and got the hell out of there.

I don’t, for one second, compare my experience to Ms. Herron’s.  But it is significant that so many female runners have a story to share at all.  When a woman is attacked, her actions are instantly questioned: why was she running alone?  Why was she running there?  Why was she running at night?  Why was she wearing that?  F*ck that.  Because we should have a right to, that’s why.  The only questions anyone should be asking are, why does that piece-of-shit man believe he has the right to touch, grab, assault any woman he chooses?  Why do they get away with it? Why does our society act like it’s not that big a deal (but if a man grabbed another’s man penis during a race, oh, I daresay it would be one hell of a big deal)?  Why do we not question his actions?  Why is she punished more than he is?

And why had I never heard of her until I came across an article yesterday?  Why are we saturated with morons and fluffheads who add nothing to the well-being of our society, but people like her are largely ignored?

I have taken self-defense classes in the past.  And I will take another.  I agree with her that everyone should know how to protect themselves to the best of their ability.  I also strongly agree that we should never just let it go.  We should not stay quiet or pretend this crap doesn’t happen.  She said she wanted the groper at that race to be held accountable, and I feel the same way.   She also said if he got away with it, he would do it again.  Undoubtedly.  Nothing will change if we just look the other way.  Nothing will change until we, as Ms. Herron was taught, are loud and fight savage.

 

Broken Arm and Anger

This sums up Psycho perfectly.

I really just gave up this week.  Too much going on, too much stress, no excuse but I didn’t have anything left in the tank to deal with workouts and food diaries.  I got called into my second job several times this week, we had a board meeting and dinner event at work, and then the other night, the climax of the week: my boyfriend got a text that his 11-year-old daughter was in the emergency room, getting a soft cast put on her arm.

How this happen?  Glad you asked.  Psycho, his ex-wife and my stalker, thought it was a good idea to let an 11-year-old child outside to play on a skateboard, unsupervised, and with no helmet and no pads.  Predictably, my stepdaughter fell, and she fell so hard that she needs to undergo a procedure today to place the bone back in place before a cast can be put on.

I have so much anger about this.  Accidents happen, yeah, but they are guaranteed to happen when a so-called mother can’t be bothered to even strap a helmet onto a child, or bother peeping out a window when the kids are in her father’s pool, or perform any action or function that remotely resembles parenting.  I can’t even count on one hand how many ER visits the kids have had in the past year!  Let’s see: my younger stepson was in a wheelchair and neck brace while Psycho griped about him not finishing that football game; my older stepson ended up in the ER for a bump on his arm that never got cleaned or taken care of until it festered into a horrible infection; my younger stepdaughter just got a cast off her arm less than a year ago, which wasn’t her first trip to the ER either, since Psycho shredded the inside of that little girl’s throat trying to dig out a doughnut she was choking on for quite some time before Psycho decided to do anything about it.

When my boyfriend called his daughter the other night, she was still crying about how much her arm hurt.  In the background, Psycho snapped at her to not start crying again.  My boyfriend told his daughter to cry if it hurts, and if her mother had a problem with that, to put her on the phone.  Psycho refused to take the phone.  Of course she did.  She is a coward who bullies children and will not face someone willing to call her out on her bullshit.

Yet again, I have allowed the stress and anger and fury of fearing for the kids, and wondering why in blazing hell she is permitted to have custody of children, to derail me from taking care of me.  I get so angry, I can’t even think, except to keep coming back to: if my stepdaughter would have fallen on her head as hard as she did on her arm, with no helmet on…what then?

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