Chin Out!

Ladies, I have a friend who sticks her chin out every time she takes a picture, thus creating a thinner face and no double chin!

Check it out!! My face looks so skinny!!!

Thanks to my buddy Jo for the great pic.

Woot!
amy

I'm Okay

I said I would tell you about my great fall of 2007, so here it goes:

Selah had a show in Charlotte, North Carolina. The church was huge, it was actually a K-12 school as well as a church and the sanctuary was rather far from where our dressing rooms were. We had to walk around the back, then down a steep flight of stairs. Throughout the evening we made our way back and forth, back and forth, no problem. There is a point in our concerts when Allan does a “solo” piece, and Todd and I leave the stage. Todd went to the restroom, and I went down the steep tile stairs alone, in my 3½ inch Carlos Santana sling backs. I felt very cute, wearing black slacks, a little black top and white fuzzy sweater shawl that I got at Old Navy and had already torn the tags off when I realized the reason it fit so well was because it was maternity (sad face) and my Carlos Santana shoes. As I embarked down the stairs, which were roughly 15-17 stairs deep with a little platform that at a right angle led to another flight of stairs about 7-9 deep, I thought to myself, “I could fall down these stairs and die because no one would find me!” So, I grabbed tightly to the rail and slowly made my way down, successfully.

After the concert we came back downstairs, then back upstairs for autographs, but it wasn’t until the final trip down the stairs that my ability to walk upright failed me. Todd, Allan, our road manager Shawn and I were laughing as we approached the staircase, about what I do not recall. I thought to myself, “I had better grab the…”, and then it happened. Todd describes it as looking like I purposely dove headfirst attempting a perfect 10, Shawn describes it as purely shocking, and Allan can’t describe it at all because he could barely inhale before I descended the stairs, headfirst. Luckily my right arm was extended because I was reaching for the railing, so I put it out in front of me to block the blows, but not in time to keep my chin from smacking on the tile stair. Snap! My head flew back and in that moment all I could think was, “Hold your head back so you don’t break your teeth!” As I made my way down the stairs at what seemed like slow motion and lightning speed at the same time, I realized that the boys were screaming. I wanted them to know that I was okay. So as I belly-flopped my way down the stairs with my head arched back and my right arm leading the way, I shouted, “I’M OKAY, I’M OKAY, I’M OKAY,” all the way down. When I finally landed at the little platform below I quickly tried to push myself up before the boys could get to me, and with a failed attempt at getting up, which looked more like a pathetic push up, I uttered on last, “I’m okay” and plopped my face down on my extended arms. “No you’re not,” said Todd and he took my right arm and Shawn took my left arm to pull me up. Now, you must be wondering what’s the first thing I said when I stood up. I said three things, in this very order.

“My SHOE!!” You see, my Carlos Santana shoe was the cause of it all. The right heel had caught in a broken piece of tile and as I flew out of it, it stayed behind at the top of the stairs. When I turned to look for it, I’ll never forget what I saw. Allan Hall still at the top of the stairs with the most shocked expression on his face, mouth agape holding by its strap, my one Carlos Santana shoe. “It’s all I could think to do,” he said.


“My GUT!” I said this, not because my gut hurt from the massive trip it took down the stairs protecting my inner organs from injury, but because on the trip down my cute black pants had made their way down below the “muffin top” I try so hard to cover up, and the little black top had made its way up under my bra strap, and there, in all it’s plus size glory my gut hung out of my clothes for all the boys to see.

“I’m okay, really” trying to convince myself probably more than anyone else. It turns out my gut did protect me from injury. I had 2 CT scans, and an X-Ray, and other than some huge disgusting bruises all over my body, there was nothing wrong with me. It took me a while to recover I still have a knot in my upper thigh, traumatized muscle they call it, to always remind me to hold the railing while walking down stairs. This story has become one of “best of” Selah stories we like to tell when we’re sitting around with new people. But politely the boys always skip over the part where I bared my belly to them. Sadly, that is the most embarrassing part of the story for me.

amy

I figured it out!

I figured out how to put pics up!! So this is me, a while ago, but I still look the same, in all my plus size glory! Actually, this is one of the few pictures of me I actually like. But it's only fair to show you what I miss looking like, so here are some pictures of me over the years....

Another good one...

And finally, the one titled "Skinny Amy"



This right here is my goal...180!!!

You know, some I know lost their husband today in a tragic car accident. It breaks my heart. She's younger than I am and has two small children. As I was praying today I realized something: Life is too short, too fleeting to stress myself out about looking amazing. Don't get me wrong, I want to lose weight, but it can't be something I obsess over.

I want to spend my time in the Word.

I want to spend my time worshiping God.

I want to spend my time with my husband and family so they know they are so very important to me.

I will exercise and work on my eating habits, but this "addiction" will not have me, and neither will the "obsession" of trying to be something I used to.

Tonight I will lie down in bed next to my wonderful husband and I will weep for this young widow, and I will hold Jake tight and thank God that I still have him.

Tonight I will be thankful for all that I have.

"Whereas you do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away." - James 4:14

amy

Addiction

This is kind of a hard one for me to write about. I don't know if I might have shared this comment on one of my earlier blogs, but the first time I really realized I had a problem was about 4 years ago when a friend of mine and I were having a bad day. She had been fighting with her husband, and I was just really stressed out. I remember sitting at my table, both of us eating out of some kind of pan, some kind of chocolate gooey goodness. Even though I can't quite remember what we were grubbing on, I remember her statement vividly..."Man, if we were alcoholics, we'd be drunk right now."

Well, I'm not an alcoholic, but I do have an addiction. When people think of "addiction" they think of drugs, or alcohol, or sex; all very bad things when done in excess, or at all (except that 3rd one, that's great if you're married :). Anyways, we don't often think of being addicted to something we can live without, and I guess that's why it's difficult to admit, "I have a food addiction."

But there it is. "I have a food addiction."

Don't misunderstand. I don't eat anything and everything any time I want all the time; it's not like that. It's more like a way to self soothe.

For instance, Monday was not a good day for me. I had been out of town all weekend with the boys (otherwise known as Selah) and we had a great weekend. The show was so wonderful, the church treated us amazing, they showed us so much love, our manager came out with us and we got to know him better and have a 5 hour long meeting on the drive back home. It was great...and exhausting. I arrived home Saturday night at 10pm PST, having awoke that morning at like 8am EST...time changes stink! Immediately upon returning home my husband an I stopped at In-and-Out. I know it wasn't a great choice, but man it's good!! And we don't have it very often (sounds like good justification to me, right?) It was midnight by the time I got home. I awoke early Sunday morning to prepare a track that our pastor had asked me to sing to. Do you know how long it's been since I sang to a track in church? This particular track was on cassette tape, and I haven't sang it since before I moved to Nashville in 2000. Very old track, amazing song. (Alabaster Box-for those who are wondering). With not much rest on Sunday afternoon we had a worship service Sunday night, also amazing and exhausting.

Monday morning I felt like I was hit by a freight train. I was physically exhausted, but woke up at 8am anyways because of major pain in my jaw...my sister the dental hygienist thinks I have TMJ..anyways, lots of pain. So, jaw ache, headache, and pretty much full body ache combined with jet lag...a recipe for disaster. And then the drama came.

For personal reasons, I cannot divulge what kind of drama entered my life, but it was several things, from several sources that I was unprepared to deal with on a Monday morning. Have I mentioned I'm a dude? Don't get me wrong, I have compassion, I love romatic comedies and purple fingernail polish, I cry at sappy movies and commercials. I just am not equiped emotionally to handle petty drama, and things that others want to blow out of proportion. And Monday morning some things got blown out of proportion and I wanted to scream.

To be truthful, by the end of the day all I really wanted to to was drown myself in a vat of chocolate ice cream. In fact, it's all I thought about all day. Like I had an appointment after dinner with Ben & Jerry and I couldn't wait for it to come. That, my friends is addiction.

I had to go to the grocery store for real food, and I made a point to skip the frozen isle. It was very hard, but I realized something on Monday. I'm so used to indulging my "addiction" whenever I feel my day has gone bad enough, that I don't even realize I'm doing it. Then I got to thinking, how many times have I justified gorging on dessert at the end of a "bad day" because I "deserved it"?

So now I get to start thinking about my pattern of self soothing; how often do I do it? What can I do to combat it? Can I ever just eat ice cream because it tastes good, not because it makes me feel good?

This week a wonderful woman at church came to me and offered to help me with my food. Which basically means, I get to write down everything I ate all week long, and then we can talk about what is good, what isn't, and how to substitute more good for the not so good. I'm so pleased she approached me. Then we get to sit down and talk about why I eat...I think I'm figuring that out daily, I'm really excited, although a little embarrassed to show her my food log. :(

amy

ps...kickboxing was awesome last night, and by "awesome" I mean I didn't fall down!!!