Esther Brady Crawford - faintstarlite

I have a friend who has been saying she’s a virgin.
Even though she’s not.
Not by a long shot.

I’m kind of stunned by the realization that I’ve had lots of friends over the years who were really ashamed of sexual choices made along the way and so rather than owning up to it – they lied. Either by claiming virginity or by lowering their number.

I totally get that shame and familial/religious expectations come into play but owning your truth is incredibly empowering; after all, living a lie is exhausting. It’s a kind of self-inflicted silent torture.

I understand there are cultural considerations that come into play, and I find myself unable to make judgment calls for women in potentially dangerous situations. For instance, in some parts of the world the mother-in-law will go so far as to look at the sheets on the wedding night to make sure there was blood. (Which is actually a lousy indication of virginity as it turns out since not every woman bleeds.) The point remains, that if she doesn’t bleed then her marriage is likely to be annulled and her life could even be at stake.

Anyways, this whole situation got me thinking about the dichotomy modern women face – because for so long a premium was placed on virginity that I think that ideal still haunts many women. The desire to fit the fantasy then leads to fudging on the # of partners, or even claiming purity that doesn’t exist.

In high school and college I saw this play out time & time again – female friends of mine made a big fuss out of keeping their sex life under wraps so they wouldn’t be branded a bad girl. At the end of the day, my feeling is if you have to hide it than you probably shouldn’t be doing it, because shame + guilt are not supposed to be part of the package.

The first step to being accepted by others, is to accept yourself. When you find that peace you won’t settle for anything less than someone who will love you – the real you.

If you knew a friend was being dishonest, what would be your response? (Mine has been to tell her I think she should just be honest – but I won’t make that decision for her by telling him).

Many of you noticed and left sweet comments on Facebook or Twitter about my new photo. I’d been bugging Nick for weeks about snapping a photo I could use as an avatar for all my online profiles and we finally got around to making it happen.

Last summer we painted a section of our dingy, dark basement green and blue so we could have a ready-made backdrop for photos + videos, since we’re a media-saturated household… so after Jude fell asleep the other night we crept downstairs and had ourselves a mini photoshoot. And it was fun!

Thumbing through the photos I kept thinking “wow, that girl looks pretty” or “that’s a beautiful photo”, but I struggle to say it in the first-person… to say, “I am pretty” – it’s not the photo that is beautiful, it’s me.

I’ve had this problem for years. I’ll look at an old photo and wish I looked like that and wonder how I didn’t feel attractive at the time. Why can’t I feel attractive in the moment?

Slowly but surely it’s starting to happen and it’s an amazing feeling.

I’m pretty sure it has everything to do with the brainwashing Nick has been working on since we met in 2005. He has always had this wonderful ability of being insanely in love with all of me (fat + skinny + pregnant + make-up-less + too much make-up + fashionable + homely looking + naked). And trust me, that last one ::naked:: still makes me shudder a bit.

The great news is that I am getting over it. Getting over myself. My irrational “can’t be beautiful unless [insert unattainable goal]” nonsense.

Jude has also helped change my perception. He’s teaching me to see beauty in everything, even silly things that I used to miss or take for granted. Washing machines. Cheerios. Monkey footsies. Chubby cheeks. Walking. Bathtime. Peekaboo.

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Outtakes are always the best part of a photoshoot. And FYI, yes, I really look like I’m about to eat your face off when I’m laughing… that’s how you know it’s a real full-belly laugh. :)

At 6:30a I find myself stumbling down the hall, using my sweatshirt’s sleeve to wipe the dried drool from the side of my cheek. Another day has started with Jude’s cry calling to me from within a dream. By the time I’m nearing his room I’m already struggling to recall the adventure I’d been immersed in only moments earlier. Had I been flying again? Or was I falling? I can’t quite remember.

Before pushing the door open I call out in a sing-song voice, “Hey baby, Mommy’s coming… I love you and miss you!”.

As I peek my head in I see he’s already standing, holding on to the crib bars anticipating my arrival. I lean over and swoop him into my arms, pulling him tight against my chest to give the first hug of the day.

With his cheeks still red, he snuggles in to my shoulder and then promptly pulls away – frantically looking around wondering if there’s anything to see – even though it’s still dark enough outside that I’d stumble without the glow of the nightlight.

We head back to my bed where I lay him down next to me so that we’re still touching. He pulls at my shirt and opens his mouth waiting for our special time to begin.

In seconds I feel the familiar force of his latch and he begins coaxing the milk out.

At first his gulps are audible but his rhythm slows down as he settles in to the bed, knowing there’s really no rush.

As his belly fills I sense what feels like a warm stream of water swirling around and through me and I think this is real peace. Authentic serenity.

With his eyes closed his tiny hand reaches out, looking to tap on my skin – a simple yet profound reassurance of my presence.

I can’t help but smile. My heart is so full of love.

_____

I worry that I’ll forget as time passes so I need to share these thoughts because I want to remember to savor them.

I’ve been so lucky to have this amazing routine with baby Jude for almost 3 months, and there’s no doubt that those special moments we share each morning will be some of my most cherished memories of him at this age.

I almost gave up on breastfeeding because it was really difficult for me. I often cried as I went through the motions of pumping and feeding, frustrated that my efforts seemed in vain for so many weeks. Would my milk ever come in enough for him to be satisfied with just me?

It would.

And the incredibly tender and intimate moments breastfeeding has created – the bond it helped cement – was worth it all.

Jude at 8 months, 3 weeks old

I’ve always had an affinity for gymnastics. My theory is it’s because it is one of the few sports where being short & petite is actually an advantage, and at not-quite-5ft I fit the prototype…. well, save for the bra size.

In fact, when my dad moved us up to Oregon by him when I was nine (it’s a complicated story), one of the first things I asked for was a membership to SuperKids Gymnastics. I’d been bugging my mom for years and would prance around in a leotard but my mom just couldn’t afford it.

I had big dreams. I mean, BIG. Like, Olympics B-I-G.

Alas…. what I found was that the 5 year olds were miles ahead of me and after only a year of weekly group lessons I quit and focused on sports I was more competitive in.

For a very brief time I tried starting again. But when I tried out in 8th grade and they placed me with a bunch of 3rd graders I gave it up for what I thought was the last time.

Until last week, when I found out Turner Hall offers adult gymnastics classes. *insert hallelujah chorus*

Okay… so clearly I’ll never be competitive in any sense of the word but I really love the feeling of flip-flopping around on cushy mats and attempting to fly through the air on the bars. And, although it’ll be awhile before I can even pull myself around a bar without support I am so excited at the possibility of having fun while exercising again.

I was thisclose to letting my fear and self-consciousness keep me from joining, but I didn’t. And if I were in therapy I’m pretty sure they’d call that a breakthrough.

Truthfully, I even surprised myself with what I could do:
A cartwheel, a round-off, a handstand (plus forward roll), a front handspring… and with a bit of assistance I even landed a few backflips.

From now on I will refer to myself as a gymnast. Ohhhh yeah. I can see my inner eight year old beaming with pride.

Sore doesn’t begin to describe how I’ve felt the last couple of days but it’s a great feeling to hurt this much and still want to go back for more. I’d like to believe that with some hard work I could do the splits (!!!) and a few beam tricks (!!!) again.

Thanks to FitMilwaukee and Tracy for inspiring me to push myself and try new things. :)

I get a lot of messages asking what I eat and so I’m going to post a series specifically about food.

One of the things I’ve realized about myself is that when I’m writing down what I eat it makes me more conscious of what I’m sticking in mouth, and I end up making better choices. After enduring a frustratingly long plateau I decided to go back to basics and focus on religiously tracking my food consumption again. And what I found surprised me – I was over my Points allowance almost every day. So, while I thought I was doing well and blamed my plateau on breastfeeding, the truth was that I was eating a bit more than I should… not enough for me to gain, but too much for me to keep losing.

Getting the day started off on a healthy foot is incredibly important for my success.

As a kid I never ate breakfast. I remember in high school that at some point I was told breakfast was an important component to weight loss so I’d often grab two Pop Tarts for a whopping 440 unfilling calories. I think about that now and go “eeeeeek!”.

One of the biggest changes I’ve made over the last few years is ditching high calorie, low density foods – which make up a lot of the quick breakfast items.

In terms of food I tend to become a creature of habit – having a routine helps me stay on track and feel in control. This is my favorite meal at the moment, which takes about 8 minutes to make…

5 points (<300 calories)

It consists of 1 egg (2pts / 75cal), 2 Boca sausage links (1pt / 70cal), 1 Thomas High Fiber English Muffin (1pt / 100cal) plus no sugar jam (1pt / 40cal). To prevent stick-age I use the Misto Olive Oil Sprayer, one of my most-used wedding presents… thanks brother!

Love this stuff! It actually tastes better than real sausage in my opinion, and has 75% less fat.

My latest breakfast obsession. It's also yummy with peanut butter!

While I eat this combo most mornings – I also rotate in other options so I don’t get bored:

- 1.5c of Special K with Red Berries and 1/2c skim milk (4pts / 220cal)

- 1 Dannon Light & Fit yogurt (2pts / 80cal)

- 2 packets of Quaker Lower Sugar Instant Oatmeal Apples & Cinnamon (4pts / 220 cal)

What’s for breakfast in your house?