Goal Slacking

I have finally set my fitness goals for this week: have my fitness goals ready to go for next Monday!

Obviously, I'm as awesome at this whole 'goal setting' thing as I am at this 'staying on track' thing.

I actually did set a few fitness goals this week but they were small because I set a lot of non-fitness goals and I didn't want to bog myself down with lists. I still have to write 'thank you' letters to everyone we stayed with in Ireland (yes, write as in pen to paper with my best penmanship), I need to go through my spice cupboard and my fridge and clean them out, I need to find a job, I want to bake some Zupfe, I'm working on a craft project involving spray paint, I'm trying to set aside 30 minutes a day to crochet, and I stupidly decided to give Nanowrimo a shot... again.

I looked at the list above and wrote down the following fitness goals: don't skip dance class, and go for a long walk at some point. I'm aiming big this week!

Despite the lack of concrete fitness goals for this week, I have spent a lot of time thinking about what I really want out of the six months (the length of my journal) so while I have been lackluster in actually setting my weekly goals, they've never really been that far from my mind. I've gotten them figured out for next week and will be doing some of them this week (doing yoga in the mornings, for example) but I don't want the added guilt of not achieving them when I already have a full plate.

I may be the only person who has to write 'write to-do list' on her to-do list.

Can't Keep Me Away! FMM

I purposely post to say I won't be posting much but of course I have to post for Friend Makin' Monday! So if I say I'm going to post tomorrow, it usually takes me about a week to do it. If I say I won't be posting, I do it in less than 24hours. Well played, self. Well played.

Anyway, if you're new to Friend Makin' Monday, you can find the guidelines here. If you're old hat at this, let's do this!

FMM: All About Me

1. What are your talents? I'm musically inclined (I play multiple instruments, dance, and thrive on musical theatre) and I have yet to meet a craft project I haven't enjoyed.

2. What is your best habit? Oh, good question. I honestly don't know. I'll have to think about this one... and never get back to you on it. [EDIT: I look for the positive in everything. I read this poem often and try to live by it. I have seen enough bad in this world that I do not want to add to it.]

3. If you had to be stuck with someone in an elevator for 8 hours, who would you want it to be? I've been working on a piece about Irish history recently so right now I'd want to be stuck in an elevator with John Hume. Ask again next week, my answer will change. There's so many interesting people in the world, it's hard to pick just one.

4. Share one odd fact about you that we’d never know to ask. You mean beside my fear of scarecrows on TV? Alright, I cut my pinky open on a meat slicer. I have a scar and a slight lack of feeling in that pinky.

5. What’s your latest project (work, home, whatever you care to share?) I have a couple of craft projects on the go. Namely, I have a rash of friends having babies and those blankets won't crochet themselves!

6. If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be? I have a couple of scars that I wouldn't mind seeing gone.

7. What do you do in your spare time? Read, craft, write, dance, daydream

8. What is your biggest pet peeve? When people lack respect for other people. I know that not everyone is going to like everyone, but that doesn't mean you can't treat them with decency and respect.

9. Why do you blog? I don't know. I enjoy writing and I enjoy being the centre of attention. Blogging just seemed like a natural move :)

10. Are you tidy or messy? I tend to be a mix of the two but I'm trying to work on being more consistent with the tidy.

11. What’s the last song that played on your iPod? Whiskey in the Jar (Trad. Irish song, this recording by Jimmy Sweeney). I'm just trying to get in the right mood for my trip!

12. Do you cook? If so, what’s for dinner tonight? I do cook, however, tonight I have plans to get together with my travel partner so there will be no cooking.

13. Do you like sports? If so, list your teams. Love sports! Favourite teams of favourite sports listed below but I also occasionally catch up on tennis, hurling, and cricket results.
Hockey: Vancouver Canucks, HC Davos, Belfast Giants
Soccer (or real football): SC Freiburg, Vancouver Whitecaps, Bolton Wanderers, Bern Youngboys
Rugby: Ireland National Team, Wales National Team

14. How often do you read and/or watch the news? Every day. I was about 12 before I realised the radio has more stations than just CBC so I'm a bit of a news junky.

15. Did you stick to your new Year’s resolution this year? If so, elaborate. Instead of resolutions, I set goals. I'm on target to hit some of them.

16. What are you looking forward to most in the remainder of 2011? I leave for Ireland in less than two weeks. I have a week there by myself to visit with my family and then my friend Al is joining me and we're going off to be tourists. This will be the first time I'll be a true tourist in Ireland and I'm beyond excited.

17. Shoes, sunglasses or handbags? Shoes. I tend to lose sunglasses and I hate having to switch everything between handbags.

18. How do you feel about sleeping on satin sheets? No me gusta. You can't curl up in satin sheets. I'm a cotton sheet girl all the way.

19. Do you sing in the shower? Surprisingly, given my willingness to sing everywhere else, I don't sing in the shower. I also try to keep my showers to 5 minutes so that doesn't leave much time for singing.

20. Describe yourself in one word. Oddball.

Hello Fall! Sort of!

September arrived and so did Victoria's fall weather. Don't get me wrong, the days are still gloriously sunny and hot. But the evenings are cooling off and my jackets have been pulled from the dark cobwebbed corner of my closet.

My apologies to any arachnophobes who may be reading this.

Okay, there weren't really cobwebs but I hadn't been back there for a while.

It's that awkward time of year when you either suffer through being cold in the morning, or you wear a jacket only to have to carry it around after 9:00am. For the record, I suffer through being chilly. I have an aversion to carrying jackets when I don't have to (like putting up with being a tad cold for my 20 minute walk into work so the rest of the day is gloriously jacket-free).

Of course, I'm not really that sad about the arrival of fall for two reasons.

1. I'm going to visit the famdamily.

Any excuse to post ridiculously embarrassing cute photos of my cousins/brother.

2. West African Dance classes start up again!! (Yes, I just shamelessly linked to the best dance school in Victoria/Shawnigan!)

The instructors getting down during our Pub Night at last year's Denbaya*.

I still have a week to go before classes actually start (in fact, I have exactly one week) but I've been running through the dances I do know in anticipation for the first class. And do I ever plan to 'bring it' to that class. I'll show those newbies how to move their T&A! *snap*

I was feeling like a bit of an impostor in the beginners class by mid-way through last year. Not only was I decidedly not a beginner after a year of classes, but I also come from a dance background which many of the other students don't. In a strange-backwards move, I started hiding at the sides of the classes and stop helping other students when they were confused about moves. I had a fear of becoming 'that girl', the know-it-all who thought she could teach the class.

But then three different newbies I've run into over the summer (it's Victoria, running into people is what we do) expressed how appreciative they were to have me and the other not-really-a-beginner in the class because a) they couldn't always see our teacher and they knew that standing near either of us meant they'd have someone else to watch and b) we've gotten over that new-student fear so we hoot and holler during cross floor and performances like the Guineans do and it always makes everyone feel good to hear people positively yell while they dance.

So I'm looking forward to my Wednesday night classes with a renewed excitement that was missing last May when I opted not to do the summer session.

*Denbaya means 'family' in Susu, the language of the coastal people of Guinea. It's also the name MoonDance gave to their weekend 'mini-Guinea' they host every two years-ish. It's a long weekend of drum and dance lessons with various Guinean teachers. In short: it's a lot of fun!

Nobody But Me

I have mentioned missing my running partner. Not only do I miss having someone to chat away the workouts with, but I miss having someone to keep me accountable. To be honest, I'm lousy at staying accountable to myself. Myself is often willing to give up accountable to be lazy. There is one reason, however, why I have enjoyed not having a running partner: being able to change up my workout plan without having to consult anyone else.

I was supposed to go for a run today, but after a run on Tuesday and West African Dance on Wednesday, I just really wasn't feeling the cardio. It also didn't help that Tuesday was depressingly grey as is today. Wednesday, the one day I had indoor cardio, was blindingly beautifully sunny. Really, Mother Nature? Really?!?

I padded around my apartment with my cup of tea in hand trying to talk myself into going for the run when it hit me: why not do my at home workout today and go for my run tomorrow? So I pulled out an old ab-centric workout from my bootcamp days and did exactly that... as soon as I finished watching Blue Bloods.

I miss you THR, but today was probably the first time I was ever happy that you're in Vancouver.

Now, if I can just make sure that I actually do go for my run tomorrow.

Classically Inspired

It's been a great week so far for the moving and shaking. I've had a busy week with barely enough time to watch Beauty and the Beast last night but I feel so great after all the activity I've been fitting in. I don't know if it's because I'm coming back after being sick or if we did a lot more leg work than normal in the flamenco class on Monday, but my legs were aching so much on Tuesday.

I uploaded a bunch of classical music to my mp3 player over the weekend and I really wish I had done it sooner because I forgot how much classical music makes me want to run, jump, turn, dance, leap, kick, twist, and just generally move my body. I went for a walk on my lunch listening to Tchaikovsky's Montagues and Capulets (it's the music at 1:30) and I found myself wanting to do grand battements down the sidewalk.(That's a fancy dancer-ish way of saying I wanted to goosestep, but can't you hear why?)

When I listen to the classical music, my body just reacts without my even noticing. I walk taller and smile more, for starters, but I also caught myself doing the chassé as I walked around my office. It's obvious to me that I need to add some classical music into my workout mix... or I need to convince the powers-that-be to put some treadmills in the Royal Theatre.

See? They totally want to serenade me on my runs! [Source]

What types of music do you listen to while you workout?

Focus on the Positives and Recommit

I'm finally back from the dead over the chest/head cold which has been keeping me pretty low key for the last week. It's been a tough two weeks--I was told to stop running, I lost my workout buddy to Vancouver, I was viciously attacked by my own respiratory system--and I have to admit that at one point, I felt like giving up on the getting healthy. Then a few friends were talking about next week's marathon which I will no longer be participating in. That really didn't help the crummy.

As I got over my cold, I also got over my 'oh woe is me' feelings and decided to focus on the positive:

1. Running is temporarily on hold while we sort out what's up with my knees. The doc is very positive that I will be back at it soon and that nothing long term has actually happened to my knees.
2. I'm still allowed to dance and that makes me the happiest when it comes to cardio. I will be plante-tacon-ing and djole-ing once a week for the foreseeable future.
3. Before the attack of the irritated bronchial tubes, I was doing well with the 'at home' workouts. I know what needs tweaking when I start them up again this week.
4. I have a new walking partner.
5. My eating has been very clean throughout my illness and I know I can continue that through the next couple weeks.
6. Beauty and the Beast comes out on DVD on Tuesday!

Okay, so that last one isn't health/fitness related but it's a positive, darn it!

At the start of September I began writing a contract with myself as a guide to keep myself on target with my workouts and eating. Somewhere along the way, it went from being a simple contract with a few guidelines to a fully annotated Encyclopdia AndreaClairicus. The original thought was in the right place and I want to go back to that. I have a rough draft of it done so I plan to do a quick rewrite of it and then it will be up on here for everyone to see... as soon as I'm done watching Beauty and the Beast.

Because Stockholm Syndrome rocks!

Photo Highlights

It has been an emotional roller coaster of a week. As a result, healthy habits and nutritious food choices have often been put on the back burner. I'm through the worst of it. At the very least, the rain seems to be keeping the partiers across the road at bay tonight so hopefully I'll get a good night sleep. It hasn't been all doom and gloom, but I 'mtoo tired to write, so photos will have to do.

I had my first 'real' flamenco class. Love! It! Olé!

I hiked Wiffen Spit (Sooke) in the drizzle with a friend.

I'm a West Coast girl; I love the rain and fog in ways I can't explain.

I canned peaches with my mom. It reminded me of being a child.

I caught a momma raccoon giving her two babies a few life lessons until she spotted me.

After that she taught them the life lesson 'avoid the people'.

I experimented more with my camera.

I will allow myself one more day of questionable choices (only because I want popcorn at the movie) and then I'm back on the healthy bandwagon. Happy Friday!

I'm Working on a New Dance Move. It's Called "The Melt!"

With the week of Flamenco done and over, I'm back to training for the half-marathon and I have to be honest, I'm a little worried. It's not so much the running/walking that has me worried, it's the temperature outside during our usual run times. I happened to be walking outside yesterday and today during those times and it wasn't pretty. Again, Irish blood courses through this body. Heat is to us what water is to the Wicked Witch. Understandably, I'm a little apprehensive for tomorrow's run-walk and fear I may have to tether myself to THR with a rope and just let her drag my dying carcass along the route.

The sad thing is that it hasn't actually been that hot in Victoria but my apartment is on the top floor of on older building so come summer time, I'm pretty much living in a convection oven. My ceiling fan is on 24/7, I walk around the house in as little as possible (which is why I almost left the apartment today with no shirt on. I put on my shoes, threw my bag over my shoulder, grabbed my keys and walked to the door before realising I was topless!), and I pretty much agree to any movie date offered (Inception was incredible, but don't let people talk to you about it before you see it. Shrek Ever After was forgettable, I'm very glad I didn't pay full price).

In avoiding movement during the high heat times of the day, I've also had a lot of time to think about my life goals. That means not just the goals I talk about on here, but the ones that are part of the overall bigger picture. I've come to two very important decisions which affect these goals (directly and indirectly).

One: I'm cancelling my gym membership. Now, before you get all "no! But why?" let me explain. Since starting to dance again in January and especially this past week of intensive classes, I've realised how much I miss dance in my life and come September, I want to do as many dance classes as I can afford. West African and Flamenco are first and second on my list, but I'd gladly fit in any other ones that I could. Perhaps even a return to an adult ballet class might be in my future. If I'm struggling to get to the gym regularly when I don't have multiple dance classes, how am I going to make it happen when I do? I know enough about the exercises that I need to be doing to start doing workouts at home so that will be my goal in the Fall: sign up for multiple dance classes, get myself a new set of weights (because my old ones are too light now--yay!!) and bands for at home workouts.

If I'm working out at home, I can bust out a few Jane Fonda videos while I'm at it!

Two: a job opportunity has come up at work and I'm going to go after it. Sure, that might seem like a decent move but what does that have to do with these goals? Well, the training schedule is six months with no holidays. That means my intention of doing the Juan de Fuca at the end of September would have to be put on hold until next year. Despite the fact that this would be a nice sizable jump up the pay scale for me, I actually really debated about it because I made a commitment to my three year plan and I wanted to see myself stick to that. In the end, however, this job will make another life goal a reality so it's a short term sacrifice for long term gain. If I get this job, I will still do the Juan de Fuca next year, but I'll have to decide if I'm up for the JdF and the West Coast Trail in one year or if I move everything back a year.

I'm curious about short term sacrifices other people have had to make for long term gain? Did you feel it was worth it in the end?

No Pain, No Gain... for Charity

Well, I did it!

Surprisingly, jazz is one of the styles we didn't do.

On Sunday morning I got out of bed at stupid o'clock, dragged myself (and the largest coffee I could find) to the corner of Hillside and Quadra, and then danced for 9 hours. I'd have to check with a certified psychologist, but I think my willing participation may be grounds for committal. AbunDANCE was a great success (and not just because I participated)! I was holding off on this post because I was hoping to state how much we had raised but that's yet to be fully tabulated, so I'll just say that I know one person raised over $800, and two other people raised over $150. Makes my piddly little $90 seem, well, piddly, but $90 is $90 and every bit counts so I'll be happy with that.

The best part about AbunDANCE was getting to try out a million different dance styles (fine, not a million, seven) for a $15 registration fee and minimum $40 of pledges. Even if you just pledged yourself $40 (which some people did), that was a great deal. We started the morning with Yoga Dance (which is yoga set to beats of music instead of number of breaths with some Bhangra thrown in. I don't really count it as a 'dance' style although it was a good workout) so we all had a good stretch before moving on Flamenco, Bollywood/Bhangra, Salsa, Polynesian, Afro-Colombian, Hip Hop and West African. For the record, I'm definitely pursuing classes in Flamenco and (once I'm in better shape) Salsa. I'm holding off on the Salsa mostly because all the teachers I have found in Victoria are thistiny and I don't need a constant reminder that I'm not. (The Flamenco teacher on the other hand was a tall, solid, yet curvaceous woman who is a constant reminder that you don't need to be thistiny to be sexy. I have a bit of a girl-crush on her.) Afro-Colombian beat my a$$ into the ground, but if Danny was to ever start teaching in Victoria again (he's moved up to Shawnigan) I would take a class (but I'd hide at the back because it's hard!) Our final hour of dance was a doundoundba (Guinean circle dance where dancers enter the circle to do a few of their favourite moves and then return to the circle) which was a lot of fun. For the first time ever, I actually entered the circle by myself. It was a great way to cap off the day (well, that and going for dinner with a bunch of the other dancers). Was I tired? Yes. Was I sore? Yes. Did I fear that sitting down would mean I'd never stand again? Yes. Did I fall asleep on the couch, halfway through an email once I got home? Yes. Will I be back next year? HELL YES!!

I'm back from my week off and will be running again. I was hoping to go on Monday, but 9 hours of dance on Sunday made that a big, fat no-way-Jose. To help with the whole 'be healthier' thing, I'm joining WeightWatchers... in about a month. I keeping trying to hold myself accountable for my food choices, but the truth is, I suck at it. I have zero willpower when it comes to food so putting me in charge of it... dumb, dumb, dumb. I've found meetings that work for my carless-wonder self, but with my current schedule I will have to wait a few weeks before jumping in. I 'did' WeightWatchers (which means someone gave me all the books and I followed it) and was very successful at it but then I moved to Germany/Switzerland, the lands of chocolate, cheese, Schwarzwaldtorte (Black Forest Cake), mochas in cereal bowls, Susi's home cooking, the Irish Times Pub, and the Apfeltasche (Apple turnover) breakfasts. I never really recovered. It's time to change that and WeightWatchers seems like the way to go. If I'm serious about the half-marathon in October then I can't just train for it by running.

My butt makes my butt look smaller

Both my butt and my chest are getting smaller so it's only safe to assume that the rest of me is too. I noticed both of these shrinkages (again, quite possibly making up words here) at rather unusual times, and as I have no shame, let's talk about them now.

I noticed the smaller chest first during last Wednesday's dance class. It was the end of our eight week session during which we learned one entire dance called Soko; as part of the final 'performance' of the dance, we were broken up into two groups and danced for each other. As Lynn, our teacher said, "you wouldn't have joined a dance class if you didn't secretly want people to see you dance." During our warm up and first few practices, I noticed that my bra no longer seemed to be keeping me in place in the way it used too. I could feel the girls moving almost independently of the rest of my body and during the moves in which we're bent over at the waist, I had to fight the temptation to hug my arms to my chest to stop the moving. It was great that they're getting smaller and so I need a smaller bra, but I still had this class to finish and all I could think of was that 14 year-old girl who stopped playing soccer for this very reason. I decided to take the old 'screw it' attitidue and just dance. It's predominately woman, what do they care if my boobs flop in different directions from my body and each other? It was going fine until we got to a move which I can only describe as bending-at-the-waist-and-doing-the-wave-with-your-upper-torso. It's a really fun move and I was so happy with myself when I finally nailed the feet/arm/upper torso move in the previous class. This time around, I made the mistake of letting my head drop a little further than normal to see my ample bosom moving towards my face like some sort of steamroller along my body. It seemed almost slow-mo in that second and an image flashed in my mind of having to explain how I got the black eye to my coworkers the next day. Then I hit the part where the torso moves up and the moment was gone. I made sure not to drop my head that far again, added 'new sports bra' to my shopping list and smiled at the knowledge that the shrinking was starting.

I noticed the smaller butt on Friday at work. Specifically, I was standing at the printer with my hands on my back/hips like I often do and I randomly realised that my shelf was gone. Larger woman know what I'm talking about, that part where your back meets your butt and suddenly juts out like some sort of mini-shelf where you could place your coffee cup when your hands are full. Well, it was gone. I could slide my hands down a nice gentle slop to my actual butt. I couldn't get over this. How had I not noticed this before? I stand with my hands there a lot, how did I miss the changes as it got smaller? Have the Adipose come to this planet and we just don't know it? (Doctor Who reference... such a geek!) I don't know how long I stood at the printer rubbing my backside, both pleased and shocked by this developement, until I snapped back to the realisation that I was rubbing my butt in my workplace!! I grabbed my documents and headed back to my desk, but I will admit that I have repeated the action of sliding my hands down my waist to my upper butt the entire weekend. I had noticed my jeans feeling looser, but I didn't know if they actually were or they had that need-to-be-washed-add-stretch to them. Now I know and it rocks.

If a diet pill could turn your fat into these cute little guys, wouldn't you try it?
picture: BBC Worldwide

Love and Hurt

This week has been a week of ups and downs, both literal and emotional. Literal is the ups and downs of St. Charles. I was a little late to the walk on Wednesday night, and boy did my friend make me pay. She booted up that hill like there was a giant, panting monster behind her that she was seeking revenge on. The revenge was justified as, by my own admission, I have no one or thing to blame for my tardiness except my own lazy self.


My love this week was the attendence of my first West African Dance class on the same Wednesday night I was late for the walk (I should never have sat down in between; should have just eaten my dinner over the sink). I had seen Moondance do African dance at a fundraiser I had attended with DoubleL a little less than a year ago when we were still fairly new friends. It was our first completely non-work related outting, and after a fabulous Ghanaian dinner, we sat at our table in the very front and watch this entirely white group of people perform African movements to African beats. It was a lot of fun, if a little odd, and we both agreed that white women with no T and/or A really shouldn't do African dance. Without the curves, we just don't move right. Well, we move right, we just don't look right. Chest movements don't have the same impact when there's no chest. Still, I was interested enough to have a look at their site, and I debated about joining their September classes but in the end it didn't work with my class schedule.


I was aprehensive about attending the class - it's a lot of cardio which I'm lacking - but after a chat with my friend, Maria who had done it in Spain, I decided to jump in with both feet. Worse comes to worst, it's only eight weeks. If I can do something for six weeks, surely I can stick something out for eight! I arrived early partially because I planned it that way, and partially because it took me about 5 minutes less to walk than I anticipated. Everyone else in that room, although largely of the curvy variety, was fairly fit. I panic at the thought that I'm going to be the only fat one in there and I will struggle to keep up. A few minutes pass and a women larger than myself walks in, and given the response from the drummers and the teacher, she has done the class before. Maybe I will get through this.


Class starts and we're all following Lynn, the teacher, through the warm up. I'm enjoying myself; it has been so long since I did any formal dance and the rythym feels almost addictive. We start to learn the beginnings of a celebration dance from Guinea, and I find myself so in love with the movements and rythyms that I'm pushing myself, jumping higher and swinging my arms faster. I did ballet for years as a child and I loved it. Moving my body in time to the music, creating stories with that movement, practicing to get that difficult move, dance was everything I loved in the artistic world rolled into one. My dreams of being a professional ballerina were never to be realised when I stopped growing in height and grew T&A instead, but I still loved dance and it was a heartbreak when I had to give it up. And now I was dancing again, except this time there was no need for a perfect arabesque or an elevated grand jete. My arms could flail in the right direction, no need to keep my fingers poised. I loved the freedom this offers as a dancer, that my body moves as it wants to move and no one is going to come around and tell me to draw up on this leg or extend more through that arm. I had found a new passion. I ended that class exhausted, sweaty and exhilerated. Eight weeks will not be enough.


I finally broke down and bought new shoes. That was another highlight of the week. It's not much but seeing as I can no longer see my socks through the holes in my sneakers, I'm very happy.


My final high for the week is that tomorrow I will spend this weekend in Vancouver with both my older and younger brothers. I will be catching up with some friends as well and just generally hanging out, and I'm really looking forward to it. It's the first time all three of us have been in the same place and legally able to drink (Christmas doesn't count, no one is going to go to a pub on Christmas Day when my mom is cooking turkey!) and as we get older we're learning to be friends in a way that only grown up siblings can. That's not to say we hated each other before, but it's a different bond once you're all living your lives instead of a shared life of childhood. I also hope I can get them to come with me for a walk on Sunday morning, but I'm not holding out much hope on that front.


The emotional low this week came tonight on a friend's blog from someone else's comment in response to a post about infertility issues and what you should and shouldn't say to couples in that position. I may never know the extent of difficulty and frustration infertility must lead to in one's life, I may never fully understand how heartbreaking it would be month after month to look at another negative pregnacy test, but I can definitely sympathize with what they're going through. I understand longing; I understand anger at your own preceived short comings; Ranter knows I support her no matter the outcome. If I could wave a magic wand to make her pregnant tomorrow, I would do that, but I can't. All I can do is offer a supportive ear if she needs it, lame advice if she seeks it, a couple of laughs when she wants them, and my enduring friendship.


In my mind, people in similar situations as Ranter would have more empathy for choices other people have made, but then I read the response from someone dealing with infertility just like Ranter who had a very negative view on adoption and I felt my empathy for her slip away, to be replaced with outright anger and hatred at her words and, by extension, her. Everyone who knows me, knows that I'm adopted. It's one of those facts in my life that makes me who I am. I do not view it as a negative or a positive, it just is what it is. I can not change it any more than I can change that I'm Irish. The part that angered me the most follows:


"The whole adoption thing really makes me angry. "You can always adopt!" is like telling someone they can always wear your dirty clothes. I am already a parent, and I'd go as far as to toot my own horn and say I'm a fantastic parent, to a stepdauthther. Her mother is a terrible parent. Her mother is also pregnant again. How is that fair? When I hear people tell me to adopt, the struggle not to reply with, "I'm already raising one person's mistake, I don't care to raise a stranger's mistake as well," is overwhelming. Adoption, for me, would be more like a punishment than never having my own children."




I read that paragraph and for the first time IN MY LIFE I felt ashamed of being adopted. Did people really feel that way about adoption? Could there possibly be people out there that changed their entire opinion of me upon learning that I was adopted? That I instantly became a mistake with that little piece of knowledge? Then I felt anger that I let someone I don't know make me feel that way. How dare she, so angry at other people's insensitivites to her plight, be so insensitive to others. To liken an adopted child to dirty clothes? Do you have no concept of what it means to love someone other than yourself? To put your heart into another being and know that no matter what happens, you will never get it back? That "someone's mistake" that you are raising is your husband's daughter, does he also view her as a mistake? Are you both so self-centered and insensitive to his own flesh and blood? If he does share the mistake opion with you, what would make his feelings towards a child you two have together any different? It's still only 1/2 his, just like the child her currently has. To my parents, who have never let me doubt their love for a second, I am not a stranger's mistake. I am their daughter, who loves them back just as much. Yes, I was not planned. Yes, my biological parents couldn't keep me. But I have two brothers (biological offsprings of my parents) who would struggle not to reply with a much harsher retaliation than I can offer in my current state if they were to hear your words.
 
My initial response to the post was to reply with the words "f***youf***youf***you" repeated over and over until I ran out of room, but in the end I replied as politely as I could while trying to get my point across that I thought she was a b!tch. Will she care? Who knows. I'm not holding my breath. Sometimes people just are the way they are and trying to explain a different point of view is like trying to catch water with a quater. My time might have been better spent trying to reason with Pat Robertson that homosexuality isn't wrong, but I don't know her so I honestly can't say whether she'll give a toot.
 
Ultimately, I am thankful that I was adopted. The opportunities I have been afforded because of it have been boundless. I will never know how my life would have turned out if I had been raised by a single mom, but I don't know if I would have had the family trips to Alberta and Ireland, the piano and dance lessons, skiing trips in the winter and camping trips in the summer. My parents let me backpack in Europe when I was 19, they supported me when I moved to Germany/Switzerland, and they encouraged when I went to Tanzania. I have had an amazing life, and the biggest part of that is because my parents were willing raise a stranger's mistake.