Is This The Breaking Point?

As we've seen with other quests, it usually helps for me to come to a breaking point where things have gotten so out of hand that I am suddenly highly motivated to make a change.

Remember the initial purpose of this blog? Exercise and Eat Smart. A simple recipe for a healthy life. Instead, I have fallen into a gluttonous pattern of eating obscene amounts of food, to the point that even WITH my spanks people are wondering when my baby is due. And in case you're one who's wondering, I'M NOT PREGNANT.

To add insult to injury, when I complained to Husband, his idea of consolation was to say, "Well, if I was fatter I would be able to find pants that fit me." Apparently Old Navy didn't carry the 36" waist he needed. And then he proceeded to eat, I kid you not, approximately half of an 8 oz. brick of sharp cheddar cheese. He ate it like a freakin' candy bar.

Actually, now that I think of it, Husband is to blame for my weight woes. He recently quit smoking. (Yes! How exciting!) The downside is that now, instead of lighting up a cigarette, he eats a bag of popcorn; a package of Keebler cookies; or a Dilly Bar. He's always had an excellent metabolism and can handle eating all this extra crap. But guess who didn't kick a bad habit, has a horrible metabolism, yet thinks she can eat all this crap too?

But what do I do? I've made so many idle threats to change and get healthy that the teenager just laughs when I say I'm going to diet FOR REAL. Sigh! I need to watch this clip more.


border="0" alt="Hit Counters">

Web Site Hit Counters

One more Asian story

THH reminded me of another good Asian story.

In my former life, I was a high school school teacher. In both my former life and my present life, I like to eat Chinese food. (When I was in elementary, I was told I liked rice because I was Asian). Husband and I were regular customers at the local China restaurant, and I regularly tried to befriend the owner's five year old son. The owner and his wife spoke very little English, but I found that if I was patient and creative and used a lot of hand motions, I could communicate basic concepts to the wife other than "seafood delight."

At some point, her son was sick and she asked me for help. I don't remember exactly what happened, other than I brought a thermometer and some cough drops. She took me upstairs to their apartment, which was very cold because the landlord refused to fix the thermostat despite their requests. (The day I called the landlord was a day foreshadowing my attorney occupation). We took the temp, felt his lymph nodes, and concluded he just had a sore throat or something that didn't concern her too much. I think she was lonely, because then she showed me pictures, showed me her home, and tried to talk to me. She shared that her husband was gambling a little too much, and that she missed her family and friends.

She had some concerns about her son at school. She needed some forms submitted for him, and she asked if I would help. So I did. At a district workshop later that month, I saw the elementary principal and told him that if he needed any other forms from the Xio family, that I knew them and could assist.

A few weeks later, I got a phone call during class. I was in the middle of teaching some great cooking skill when the phone rang. I picked up the phone, with 25 pairs of eyes watching and 25 pairs of ear listening.

"Hello?"

"Hello, this is the principal. I'm here with the school nurse, and the [Xio boy] has strep throat..."

OK. So they want me to bring him home because they can't get a hold of her? They want me to get him some medicine?

"So anyways, I was wondering if you could help us tell her."

"..."

I was confused. And then I realized what was going on. Of course. I'm Asian. Obviously I speak Chinese.

"Um, well... All I do is speak really slowly."

Now it was his turn to be silent.

"Uh, er, you... don't speak Chinese?"

"No."

"Oh, uh, nevermindgoodbyeclick!"

I was laughing. I turned to my audience of eighth graders, and after I told them the story they all laughed too. Not that those cute kids are any better. On the first day of class I used to tell them that I was Asian, and as a result I know karate, because all Asians know karate. Most of them nodded in awe. HI-YA!

Being an Asian Republican

In light of state and national politics taking a turn for the red, I wish to share a few campaign stories from my undergrad years. When I was in college, I worked on several local House of Representative campaigns as a field staffer, and on a gubernatorial campaign as well. Being an Asian Republican does present challenges, however, and here are three stories that instantly come to mind:

1) During a hotly contest endorsement campaign, I was told by a delegate to "go back home to the country I came from!"

2) Conversely, while attending a congressional district convention, a really nice elderly man shook my hand and welcomed my kind to the Republican Party.

(Seriously, these are my choices? Being shipped back to Korea or being the country's official Republican delegate?)

3) As a field staff, I worked with a candidate who had some interesting beliefs about Democrats and renters. Specifically, this candidate believed that the Democrats were going to apartment buildings, rounding up illegal Asian immigrants and other non-registered voters, and bringing them to the polls where they would commit voter fraud and of course, vote Democrat. After hearing this story a few times I finally looked at her and said,

"That is ridiculous. They are not doing that."

She looked at me incredulously. Then a look of understanding passed over her face. She softly patted my hand and said:

"Oh no [freetobeme350], not Koreans. ASIANS."

At this point my jaw dropped to the floor. How do you respond to this? Not only does she think the source of my comment was some racial defensiveness instead of a fair analysis of her crazy conspiracy theory, BUT SHE DOESN'T REALIZE KOREANS ARE ASIANS!

I gave her a long look. Speaking very slowly, I said:

"You know that Koreans are Asians, right?"

She nodded, but her eyes had the same glazed look of pity.

"Korea is a country in Asia..."

More nodding.

"Asia is a continent..."

At this point I must have given up, walked to the bathroom, and tried to drown myself in the toilet because this was the person I was working 12-hour-days to elect. Whether good or bad, that candidate did win her election that year. I'm still not sure what I think about that.


border="0" alt="Hit Counters">

Web Site Hit Counters

"I wish to compliment you"

THH refuses to compliment people because his random act of kindness is often met with cold retaliation.

As a first year law student he "complimented" a fellow female student on her purple sweatpants. She came into class a little frazzled, not looking her usual immaculate self. She sat down and THH said, "Nice sweatpants."

She looked at him, raised her eyebrows, and said "Thanks?" and turned around. I gave THH the look of death and asked him why he was being such a jerkface. Confused, he looked at me and said he was serious, he REALLY DID LIKE the purple sweatpants. I rolled my eyes.

Later that month, he "complimented" another female classmate on her shoes. They were red, and definitely a fashion statement. "I like your shoes." She looked at him, raised her eyebrows, and said "OK [THH]." I gave THH the look of death and asked him why he was being such a jerkface. Again, he said he was serious, he REALLY DID LIKE her shoes.

But after that, he decided complimenting people was too much work. Why go through the effort of complimenting people when the response is so unfavorable. Like Pavlov's dog, THH has been trained to curl up into an antisocial fetal position whenever someone suggests he should be more complimentary.

I tried to explain to THH the girl-world of compliments; that we are inherently suspicious of compliments and unless said in an appropriate tone of voice using appropriate language, we will reject it to beat you to the punch. In high school, Sparky told me hundreds of times. "You're pretty. Pretty ugly." Men can't be jerkfaces for the first 18 years of their life and then wonder why things are so hard the remaining 82. THH (and all mankind) made this bed, now lie in it.

Casanova, overhearing THH's rant that he was swearing off compliments, suggested THH employ a new method. To avoid the risk of offending anyone with specific compliments, perhaps THH should just say loudly, "I wish to compliment you." And that's it. Just end it there. Don't follow it up with anything. Just put it out there to communicate your desire, and allow it to percolate with the object of your compliment.

It made me laugh. I imagine the recipient of such a compliment would be slightly confused, waiting for the follow-up sentence of what exactly is compliment-worthy. But shouldn't it be enough that someone wishes to compliment us, even if they don't know how?

Something to ponder.

DRAMA QUEEN!

I'm passionate. I'm hot-tempered. And today I realize, I am a Drama Queen.

My Drama Queen coronation process began about a year ago. THH told me I was a Drama Queen in the first degree. I was offended. Nobody wants to be known as someone who exaggerates, overreacts and is generally an emotional roller-coaster. I'd like to say I calmly refuted his argument with well-thought out responses of my own. I'm more inclined to think that, in a show of how un-Drama-Queen I was, I yelled and then stomped out of the room. Or pouted while pretending to work on my laptop.

Ever since then, I have begun to notice that, in the heat of the moment, I truly believe my life is about to irreparably change forever. When I put the Drama Crown on, I am capable of believing that any and every important relationship I have ever had is about to end (not all at the same time.. well, not usually); or that minor mistakes are going to Ruin my grades, my jobs prospects, my happiness for the next 40 years; or that any potential change is an inevitable change for the worse and we are all going to live in misery forever (or sometimes just me. Life is more depressing when everyone else is happy and I'm the only one writhing in the pit of despair).

It works the other way too. When I was dating, every relationship was my ultimate true love that people wrote movies and books about. Every holiday is the best holiday ever. Every reconciliation deserved its own Hallmark movie.

The long and short of being a bonafide Drama Queen is that EVERYTHING is a big deal! On the plus side, I am great in a team huddle. The crown sparkles as I tell my players that this next play is the play that will define the rest of their season, the rest of their athletic career, and possibly the rest of their Life. On the not so great side, I act a bit, er, irrationally when under the influence of the crown. See here for a prime example.

Maybe now that I own that I am a Drama Queen, I will be better about managing it. By managing it, I mean avoid making life-altering decisions while under its influence. At the same time, I realize my self-induced drama adds to my irrational crazy charm. (Seriously, who wants to read a sane person's blog? Boring!)


border="0" alt="Hit Counters">

Web Site Hit Counters