Tiger Blood

Why do we judge each other?

Why is it, no matter how far we've come, or how much we've accomplished, or what we've overcome, we still will judge each other? We like to pretend that we, as a society, celebrate accomplishments. But even award shows are really just an opportunity to judge what everyone wore.

I hate to say it, but I think women are even worse than men, at times. Or maybe we are just more open about it. There's a reason "Oh Honey, NO" is a catchphrase. There are dozens of shows on television based only on judging other's clothing, or looks, or decisions.

I'm an attitude judger, mostly. "What's up her butt?" and "Who does she think she is?" are common thoughts in my head. But I'm not immune to judging clothing either; or weight gain; or life choices.

Life Choices = Awesome

Of course, my judgement of others is simply a defensive mechanism. I judge others so that they don't judge me. I'm terrified of other people judging me first, so I knock them off their higher position before they can look down on me.

As a teacher, I am constantly being judged by my students. You try standing in front of 34 high school freshman and then try and tell me you're not being judged. My clothing, makeup, shoes, hair, even my personal hygiene are under constant attack. It can be hard to break down the defenses and allow others in.

In class yesterday my students began a project where they will create a visual representation of themselves using text, pictures and graphic design. I created my own version, which included working out. After seeing my example, one of my students yelled out "Then why are you fat?"

I've never felt a stronger urge to binge and purge in my life. This was not the Do NOT Eat Urge, or the Excercise for Hours Urge. Nope. This was the Evacuate My Lunch Urge.

He's just a kid, I told myself. He has no idea about my issues, or what his statements do to me and my Disordered Eating. He simply wanted to call attention to himself and prove his worth to others. He wanted to knock me down, judge me first, so we wouldn't notice his faults, I told myself.

Sound familiar?

Judgment is often just looking in a mirror. We see ourselves in others, and we don't like what we see. So we protect ourselves, put them down before they can look back into that same mirror and judge us first.

Today I'm going to try and put that mirror away. I want to see others for who they are, not for what I see of myself in them.

Let's Pretend I Know What I'm Talking About

I've had a few requests to talk about relationships. Apparently being in two long relationships in my entire life makes me an expert? Not even a little bit. But I do happen to have a pretty awesome marriage, so whatever, I'll write about it. It's my blog, right? I'll do what I want to.

Great relationships celebrate the little things. Like white wine.

The hubby and I have been together a little while. Eleven years sounds like a long time. And I guess it is. But it hasn't felt like it. We are in no way perfect. Not even a little bit. And every relationship is made up of different elements and different people and different needs and different wants, etc. In other words, everyone is different. What works for us might not work for you. But whatever, you asked, so I will tell.

Here's what works for us:
1. We are best friends. Sure, he's my husband, and before that my boyfriend, but above all else, we are best friends. All those things you do with your best friends? We do them. Eight hours of sitting on the couch playing Super Mario Bros? Check. Wrestling for the last chicken wing? Check. Dancing in our living room wearing huge sunglasses while listening to Justin Bieber? Check.  Atomic Wedgies? Check.

2. We don't define ourselves by our relationship. This is a tricky one, especially for us, because we meet when we were so young. It is very easy to get caught up in the "relationship" aspect of being with someone. "Me" becomes "We" very easily. I fully admit that I agree with my husband on a lot of things, and I like hanging out with him a lot more than hanging out without him, but we also have our own lives.

3. Despite being our own people, we are also a team. I know I can handle something on my own, but I also know I don't have to. If you cannot rely on your husband/wife/boyfriend/girlfriend to help you out, then what's the point? In turn, be someone they can rely on too.

4. We laugh at ourselves constantly. Dude, don't take yourself so seriously. You're probably a really big dork, and no one should know that better than your spouse. Tease them, let them tease you. You only live once. Why so serious?

"You are a big dork." "Yeah, but so are you."

5. Sit on the couch, say nothing to each other, and watch a bad movie. Relationships have to move into reality at some point; it can't be constant communication and love and kissing and blah blah blah. Eventually you have to sit in silence and just enjoy a really bad movie together. That level of comfort is awesome.

6. You know those five hour marathon talks you have at the beginning of a relationship? Every once in a while, move beyond the "how was your day, did you pick up the milk, what's for dinner, did you start the laundry, where's my shirt, want to go to the gym?" and have a marathon talk. Even if it's about nothing all that important, spend a solid afternoon just talking every once in a while.

1/2 Marathon Mania

As I mentioned earlier, I'm running a 1/2 marathon in May. Probably a better way to describe it is I will be attempting not to die as I crawl over the finish line, hopefully before the course closes after 3 hours.

I'm not so much with the running. I decided to run because it has always haunted me. Swimming, no big deal. Biking, sure, no problem. Running? Good God, NOT RUNNING!

The first week of my training went really well. I ran three miles at a time, which took me around 30 minutes. I was feeling good. Running? I think I can handle it.

Then the first "long" run came around. I say "long" because it was only supposed to be 4 miles. But I had never run longer than three miles. EVER. In my life.

But whatever, I had run three miles. What was one more?

So I set off. I had no real plan, I just figured I would run for an extra 15 minutes than I normally ran because in my brain, that made sense. I normally run about a ten minute mile, so I figured 15 minutes extra would probably add about another mile.

Not having a plan was not a good plan. I sort of just randomly ran through a bunch of neighborhoods, up a few hills, around some new corners, etc. I noticed I was getting closer to home then I should have been at only 30 minutes into the run, so I made a right instead of a left, crossed the street ahead of a car, noticed some random kids in a park and ran faster so I didn't look like a chubby girl running with no purpose.

Then I finally looked around. I had no idea where I was. None. I had never been in this neighborhood before, and nothing looked familiar. I could have been on Mars. Well, crap. Now what? I couldn't just turn around. No, of course not. What if those kids saw me? What if someone looked out of their window and saw me pass in front of their house twice in the last ten minutes? The entire town would clearly notice and obviously make fun of me. (I might not have been thinking clearly at this point. Running does that to me)

So, in the grand tradition of being lost, I just continued forward on the wrong path. This street must cut through straight to my house, right? Every road eventually reaches a place I know, right? Turning around is a sign of weakness!

So I ran. And ran. AND RAN. I saw the water tower that I can see from my house, and ran towards that. I eventually hit the train tracks, and decided that there MUST be a place to cut across. There wasn't. I finally came to an apartment complex that looked vaguely familiar, so I ran towards that. Apparently that apartment complex hates runners, because the entire parameter is fenced in. I now know that, because I ran around the entire thing. Then exited out the same way I came in.

I had never ran this long before. Not even close. "I'm WAY over the four miles I was supposed to do today," I thought. "I'm going to die. If I lay down in the middle of the street, will someone call 911 for me? Because, seriously, I might die. I hate running. I hate this neighborhood. I hate every person who is walking their dog and smiling at me as I wheeze and stumble past them."

Finally, FINALLY I came back to the street where I took that wrong turn. I have never seen a more beautiful street sign in my life. I traced my steps back to my house, tail between my very sore legs.

I sat on my front porch, exhausted. I couldn't believe I had just run that much. "Getting lost sucked," I thought. "But at least I know now I can run more than 4 miles!" I woke up the next morning wanting to die. My calves were on fire. My knees were achy. I just wanted to sit and do nothing. But I was satisfied that I had done it.

I figured I should probably find out exactly how much I had ran, so I could brag correctly at work the next day. "Oh, I ran 6 miles this weekend. No big deal." I couldn't wait to tell everyone that I had gone above and beyond my training schedule and that this marathon was going to be my bitch come May. So got in my car and drove the route.

Exactly 4 miles.

This marathon is going to suck.

Put him on the Shelf

Though he denies it, I have a trophy husband.

But I have proof:

Example A

There are some differences between us, most noticeably our looks. He's 6'5", I'm 5'1". He has "abz." I do not. Super toned, adorable face, pretty eyes. Quiet, confident and controlled. Pretty much everything I'm not. Especially the quiet part.

I'm loud, obnoxious, demanding and pushy. I'm not one to step down, ever, from a fight. A few people at my CF have started calling me The Pitbull. Which, of course, is horribly embarrassing. I've always wanted to be The Swan. Or The Butterfly. The Pitbull? Seriously?

Part of me is proud to have landed a super hot guy out of my league, and part of me is hyper conscious of our differences and what people must think when they look at us.

Our entire 11 year relationship has been pretty amazing. We've never had any big issues and have never broken up. But every once in a while Jealously rears it's ugly head, and I feel horribly inadequate.

I mean, it's really not even fair.

Of course, he thinks this whole thing is crazy (not to mention embarrassing. Whatever, I've got to level the playing field somehow.). He thinks we are equals, in the same league, blah blah blah. I'm not blind. But I guess it's better than him thinking he's better than me.

In some ways I guess it's a compliment to me. Women constantly flirt with him. CON.STANT.LY. Literally right in front of me. For the most part I just sit back and let it happen because I know he loves me. But it's still annoying sometimes to be the chubby girl who landed the super cute husband.

But I've decided that there must be SOMETHING about me that he finds attractive. Maybe he likes pitbulls? Whatever it is, I'm going to embrace it. I'm tired of apologizing for having an awesome husband.