Skinny Girls Have No Personality

Is it even worth it to post on a Friday afternoon? People who post blogs on a Friday afternoon, you KNOW they blog because the love to blog. It's not about who reads it, how many. You go find your friday afternoon posters and you'll find something.

(not saying what exactly, but maybe something like this:)

We should all be held accountable for the crap we spouted in high school right? I think so, too. One day, in 1995, during drama class, Victoria Fronk said, "Skinny girls have no personality. They are always just thinking about not eating and they have nothing of value to say."

I was RIGHT there ... she even looked at me. At that moment, I truly believed she must be right. BUT I didn't think I was skinny, so, ha ha. I should find a picture of me that year in something cute ... I have one somewhere ... dangit. I spent the last hour trying, but all I can offer is my kleptomania skirt to show just how dainty I was at the time:


It was the 90's - all my pictures are me in baggy clothes, mostly denim and flannel. I hid inside. It was cozy. Back then, I rarely had time to eat and my mother was a terrible cook. I was skinny and just as self conscious and hyper-sensitive as any other girl in the universe.

Since then, I got pregnant a few times and gained lots of weight. I've been up close to 200 (at 67 inches and 9 months pregnant). Then, I figured out that if you are very careful about your caloric intake, you can lose weight. Very recently I broke the double digit size barrier (on the way back down).

I don't want to be skinny anymore. I want to be tight; fit! Push-ups, sit-ups, running ...

Yeah, I would like a frosty float, but make it with a diet coke, would ya?

I have things to say ... it's not all food? I'm not just weak and grumpy from low sugar ...

Am I?

Frak.

Cheaper By The Dozen - Wrap up with Pictures

For those friends and family who weren't able to make it to the show, here's a few pictures from our run with the Terrace Plaze Playhouse's production of Cheaper By The Dozen.

Here's a picture of the cast picture because I can't get the scanner to cooperate. Actually tomorrow will be the 1 week anniversary of the end of the show. It's been a long week.

Here's a picture of a picture of Crichton and me in our costumes. We had a really good time. He got to memorize lines, put on tights and make-up, play with a nice dog, make a lot of interesting friends. Community theater is a very nice thing to support.

Here's me before.

And after - I think I'm making a "How about I sweep something up for you" face.

Crichton with a pony tail wig.

Crichton with a Ding Dong. Or was it a Ho-Ho? (What's with the explicit junk food names?)

Getting my apron tied on smartly.

There is Crichton with our director, Mark Daniels.

It was all very time consuming, but still my favorite thing in the world to do and I am so glad I could share it with Crichton. So much funner than standing around waiting for my kid to hit a ball off a T. He had the opportunity to be adored 3 nights a week for 7 weeks. He was responsible for his entrances and cues and lines. I don't care what anyone says, theater is the best team sport.

Hope to see you for the next show!

Stew for Lunch - YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE

I keep trying and I will keep trying because that is what one does.

But I am having some serious doubts. I am having a hard time seeing how it works, long term.

And what do you do? There is too much at stake. You can't run away. That doesn't work. (does it??)



I tell myself:

• Be grateful. Be more grateful. And then, be even more grateful.
• Have some control. Back to the eating disorder diet. Per diem: One carb, only fruits, veggies, and nuts until we lose another 10.
• And run more. And push-ups.
• Keep the house clean. Make sure the laundry is done, if not all put away.
• Make the bed. Floss the teeth. Lotion the feet. Pray.
  
• And find nice things to say. Make them up if you have to.

And then there's some high anxiety for me, because I don't enough in my life - bishop wants to visit me tonight. I'm so getting excommunicated, huh?!

Gosh. Now I'm going to sit and stew about it for 6 hours ... why can't they just IM me?

Have I been so terrible?

I don't want to be that blogger who gave it up and still mocks it and talks like she knows what it is really all about. I believe THAT with all my heart. Mental gymnastics and everything. I think I do, anyway. But maybe in a Martin Luther kind of way.

Pronouns are my favorite kinds of words, they really are. IT is my fave. What's your favorite pronoun??

It's Not All About You

Here. Look. I feel stupid talking face to face; I'm an awkward freak. My brain is sluggish, compared to most. I don't like talking on the phone. There's no backspace button on my mouth. I like to type - I like to write. I like to pause, reread, rewrite, edit, fix, find the right words to express myself as accurately as possible.

I'm a verbal stripper.

I am an exhibitionist, but only in writing. I want you to pay very close attention, just not while I am immediately aware of you.

I'll tell you the longings of my heart, but you can't watch me while I do it.

And if this is gone ... this vent, this outlet ... If I can't honestly express the secrets of my soul (censored as they must be be), I'll ... I don't know. I'll wither. Thinking about it makes me want to run away. I am hanging on by a thread. Trying to fake like perfect wife and good mom ... I am neither of those. Here, this: my honest lies ... my vague exactness ... if not here, where?

There is so much more going on .... you don't want to know, do you? That's what it is. You want to believe it's all fine and great, cute pictures and funny stories. You know it's not, but you wish to God it was.

I'm really sorry.

It's so not.

Stop lecturing at me.

The thing is ... you can't pretend to be the ONE whom I can trust, can tell anything, who knows every dark corner (almost) .... you can't be the one who picks and chooses which corners I can illuminate and .......

(You like ellipses? I like ellipses ... all trail off-y. Ellipses are my favorite punctuation. Number two parentheses. Third, is exclamation marks!!!!)

Maybe I am a hypocrite. You can talk about me, it's fine. But make sure I don't find out. You don't have time to listen, but you found time to talk about? You've grown tired of what I have to say, but won't let me talk to people who will fill in for you and listen.

I'll speak for myself, I'll say everything you'll let me say.

No one needs to speak for me.

That's all I really have to say right now.

What's you favorite piece of punctuation???

It's the Thought That Counts.

Maybe you haven't noticed, but Dr. Horrible's Sing-A-Long Blog is kind of a big deal at the Roth house, lately.

You've seen it right? Watch it again (you know you can't resist):



Isn't it brilliant?

Crichton will try not to laugh as he says, "I want to be an achiever, like Bad Horse." Then, I look up and say, "The Thoroughbred of Sin?" and he does some Neil Patrick Harris-esque facial twitches and says, "I mean Gandhi." And we laugh and laugh.

******

My husband gets to go to the grown up classes at church. I know! Luckeeeee. Greg told me this little story about his experience yesterday:

A quote on the board read:

It is easy enough to be friendly to one's friends. But to befriend the one who regards himself as your enemy is the quintessence of true religion. The other is mere business.

The teacher asked if anyone knew who said it. My husband's wacky brain nearly had him raising his hand to say, "Bad Horse, the Thoroughbred of Sin?" But my brilliant Greg has a little thing we like to call impulse control. (Me? Not so much.)

What do you know? The quote really is Gandhi's.

The lesson I taught was about friends, too. We made paper airplanes. I can't remember how the planes tied in, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Oh right ... transformers. Who doesn't love 4 year olds? Jesus wants me for a transformer.

Hijacked

I don't much like today ... it was/is my 10 year anniversary of being sealed to my beloved in the temple, but my very special day got hijacked a couple of years later.

Let me see if I can make it a happy day anyway.

Happy Anniversary US. 10 years of trying super hard to be super good.

Dick's and Dan's

I loved my grocery store SO much, I blogged about its glory. A few months ago, they started sprucing it up. Painting and rearranging. Making the produce section all spiffy, hiding the apples and such. No big deal. Still the same great service and value.

Until ....

Dan's Grocery Store

became...

(now this is absolutely NOT something I can google image for you)

Dick's Grocery Store.

I can't go there now.

I shop at Albertson's.

Why?

I can't stand it when my kids say:

"Are we going to Dick's?"

"Mom, we're out of juice, you need to go to Dick's and get some more!"

"YAY! DICK'S."

"If I am good, can we get a toy at Dick's?"

The list of inappropriate sounding things goes on and on.

Sure, tell me I have a dirty mind. Maybe it' true.

But, I just can't shop there anymore.

Note to the owners of Dick's Grocery freaking Store: Maybe a less vulgar name? Richard's sounds fine to me. Think about it.

I'd Like To Hide

Not. Sound.

I am 31 years old, for crying out loud.

Matricide. Can we talk about that? I'm not sure the 5th and 6th commandments are mutually exclusive. My mom told my 3 year old he could watch her copy of Hotel For Dogs (for which she paid $19.99 AFTER seeing it the theater). Left us thus, as she went off to see The Time Traveler's Wife. At the real movie theater. Now I need to shoot myself in the head. IN THE HEAD!!! Asplode my brains.


You know how it is, when you're a terrible daughter, wife, and mother. (Nice to have a job they can't really fire you from.)

You ... you real workers ... with your paid time off. Even unpaid time off. The ability to make a phone call, fake-cough a bit, and jaunt off anywhere you'd like for the day.

I did warn you, a while ago ... mental status: undetermined.

Either way ... frustration level: off the charts.

Let me go ahead and write in such as way as 99% will be utterly confused and yet I still get to say what I want.

That's the way to run a blog, right? Say what you want, as long as no one understands what you're saying, no one will get kicked out of her family.

If I can get a doctor to prescribe a glass of wine instead of a bottle of prozac ... do you think the bishop would be cool with that (the one I could never never talk to about anything other than my tithing and my willingness to accept any calling God tells him to give me)?

Look, you might not be aware, but EVERY SINGLE FORM of relaxation is off limits for Mormons. Every solitary form. Wait. Still not quite vaguely accurate enough. Evidently, I am free to read scriptures, pray, or ponder uplifting thoughts. But if that's not cutting it, and my husband is working late ... Right. Hell. Or a quick and humiliating stop at the bishop's office (the one I could never never talk to about anything other than my tithing and my willingness to accept any calling God tells him to give me).

Pretty much, I'm doomed. And the dommedier I feel, the less I care. Do you ever think that apathy is eviler than evil?? Inaction is wronger than wrong action? And poor grammer and speeling are truly the greatest threat to society today?

If I'm missing, check here:


Tho, I doubt I'd leave the hotel room. I guess as long as I have a good internet connection, everything will be fine.



Ahh, the dark side of the moon. Sigh. Doesn't that sound nice and quiet and peaceful. A book, a booklight, some oxygen tanks. Totally bringing my golf clubs.



The Beach. I don't care where ... some 78 degree beach with no one else. Or just quiet, brilliant individuals (like you, for sure!). I can almost hear the waves ... (tho that could just be the traffic from our slightly busy street).


The fresh, fresh air. No effing Hotel For Dogs; no DVD player; no electricity.

I just want to run away. Run far away. Were they can't find me and tell me that my efforts are stupid and vain.

Feel my pain, ladies and gentlemen. Put me in a room with yellow wallpaper and let me be.

Cheap therapy. My blog. Don't feel obligated to advise. Maybe you ought to email me privately; or play scrabble with me. Let's go play scrabble on a beach ... please. Loser has to make the winner some lemonade (I like it tart, by the way) (of course she does, you say).

Someone's Feeling Grumpy

Stuff I Hate:

1. Pumpkin Pie. It's slimy; it tastes like crap. The only good part is the whipped topping - I could eat that glorious delight by the tub full (and I sometimes do).

2. Stupid Loud People. I like my people quiet-ish. And brilliant, if possible.

3. Answering The Phone. I just don't like to do it. You never know what they're going to say. It's probably no big deal, but it might be bad news. Just leave me a message.

4. 6:00 p.m. Almost Every Day. Hell hour and never a mother-loving spouse to help.

5. Face-Licking Dogs. Actually, most every dog. Dogs trend towards loud-and-stupid-ness.

5. Weeds. The kind that grow in the yard, not the TV show. The TV show is fine.

5. Low-Estrogen Birth Control and The Damn Gynecologists That Prescribe Them For Me. If you would listen for half a second, let me give you an drop of medical history, we all could have avoided this little bit of mid-cycle unpleasantness, but no. You're a gynecologist. You're a man. You know better than some silly little vagina wielder. Pat me on my silly head and hand me your ridiculous samples, will you? Go deliver a baby ... I'll find me a doctor who uses his ears for something besides holding on his surgical mask. HER ears, I should say.

5. That Happy Polka Sounding Mexican Music When I'm In A Bad Mood. Sell your house and move already. Eye Yie Yie.

5. Losing. Especially to non-female persons. Down with men!

Mormons Anonymous Meeting

It was suggested that I ought to organize a real life religious discussion group and, oh, how I'd like to. It'd be way awesome! Until the disciplinary committee convenes to discuss the excommunication of dear Sister Roth, I'm sure. If only I were smarter, better, or had a drop of follow through. As I was mulling the idea around, I had the image of a sort of Mormon's Anonymous meeting. (There is a website of that name, but reading it merely made me feel even more certain that I am unqualified to lead anything ever and will probably burn in hell, blind.)

*****

Welcome to the first virtual meeting of Mormon's Anonymous. So glad you could stop by.

These meetings are designed to help those addicted to the Mormon church control the negative consequences of their addiction. Here, we can feel free to vent our cognitive dissonance (like how we feel guilty about not getting our visiting teaching done when we haven't been visited for years); explore radical interpretations of scripture (Jesus turning water to wine, not grape juice, for example); and joke about how much we'd really like to have a second wife in the house (or husband, dangit).

Since I'm the only one here, I'll just stand up and tell you why I'm here.

My name is Brandy, and I am addicted to Mormonism. (hi brandy)

I was born into the church. My family lived with my paternal grandmother, who saw to my religious instruction. After her passing, when I was 12 years old, my parents became practicing Wiccans. For reals. Oh, the debauchery. Shortly thereafter, as I was reading the Joseph Smith Story, and had an overwhelming feeling of certainty that this experience was true. To this day, I don't know if God the Father and Jesus Christ physically appeared, or if it was merely a vision in Smith's head ... but I do feel confident that Joseph was called by God to be a prophet, given priesthood authority, and that he restored The Church of Jesus Christ to the Earth.

Throughout my adolescence, I maintained a loose connection to the Church. I rarely attended Sunday meetings or weekly youth activities, but I did go to LDS seminary at school. When I went away to Iowa for college, there were only 6 Mormon students. I was not a very good example of my faith at that time. One year later, I transferred to BYU to be with my fiance (now husband). Again, during that time in my life, I was not the best example of my faith. I was married civilly at age 20, and 15 months later, husband and I took out our endowments and had our marriage sealed in the temple.

I suppose it was during my preparation to initially go to the temple that I became addicted .. ahem ... converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.

I am drawn to the logic and structure. Rare is the answer, "I don't know why, that's just how it is." I like answers, I like being told I can find the answers myself. Also, the idea that I am entitled to personal revelation and that God still speaks to those who listen (through a prophet) satisfies my need for individuality AND hierarchy. Plus patterns - if God is God, He does things His way and it's the best way and it doesn't change. The ordinance of Baptism by immersion, rather than sprinkles, fills my need for literal application of the Bible, while the understanding that the world was NOT made in 6, 24 hour periods, satisfies my love and understanding of scientifically sound principles. I love that, for the most part, I can say "evolution" and not be crucified.

But the church takes itself too seriously. It's as if, as a whole, we sense a fragility and we all walk on egg shells, trying to ignore certain things. Even as I type this, I feel disloyal. Don't think too much, child. I could list a dozen no-no topics. WHY can't we talk about [insert your favorite LDS myth or legend]? Why are some of the most intelligent people I went to seminary with, no longer active members?

The doctrine of the church REQUIRES, got that, REQUIRES each member to gain their own knowledge and testimony of every aspect of church. It requires us to acknowledge our freedom to choose, our duty to ponder, and, I feel, our right to question and doubt. And when we still choose to be obedient, even when we are struggling, that is Faith.

No religion holds up to intense scrutiny. We just can't produce tangible evidence to support our feelings. It's fine. I don't expect everyone to come to the same conclusions I have. I TOOK A LOT OF TIME GETTING HERE. And I am lost.

We apologize too much. Don't want to offend anyone ... they serve coffee to VISITORS at BYU, but students have smuggle it in. Why do we let ourselves believe cold caffeine is superior to hot caffeine? Why force hypocrisy? Do you REALLY think God cares if drink diet coke or espresso? Does He? DOES HE?! ANSWER ME!!!!

(deep breath) (and another)

Thank you so much for coming. If I'm not excommunicated, maybe we can do this again. Feel free to share your experiences, anonymously if necessary. Who am I to judge?

Not all of us take it too seriously. But those of us who laugh ... I fear for our eternal souls.

Self Inflicted Torture or Refinement?

As I think about this publicly, I have been repeatedly advised to go talk to the Bishop, to ask to be released. I can't do that. I'm not the person who does that. I suffer in silence (insert laugh track).

The complexity and duality of me: I LIKE my calling and I think I do it very well. I will continue to do it. It's not THAT bad. It's that the WHOLE church experience leaves me drained and empty. It's not a matter of not willing or able to do it ... it's a matter of I need more intellectual challenge from religion in general, church specifically. Am I asking too much?

"Are you still going to the temple every week?" someone asked.

No, when I started play rehearsals, I stopped. A mom can only take away so much time from the family. I felt, with the play, going to the temple, too, was too much. But, I went a ton this year, like 30 times, and I think I got a lot out of it.

What I want, maybe, is real life, face to face, adult group discussion. Deep discussion. Opposing philosophical debate, open mindedness, free from fear of consequence. How can we learn and grow when we don't analyze what we have.

One thing about our church, if your opinion falls on a side other that the prophet's ... you know your wrong. And you're bad. But, what luck ... I don't think we believe in a fiery hell. So, that's good.

Also, how do I know if the struggle I feel indicates I should ask to be released, or redouble my efforts?

Here's an email I was forwarded:

Malachi 3:3 says: He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver.

This verse puzzled some women in a Bible study and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God ..

One of the women offered to find out the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible Study.

That week, the woman called a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest beyond her curiosity about the process of refining Silver.

As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest as to burn away all the impurities.

The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot; then she thought again about the verse that says: ' He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.'

She asked the silversmith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time..

The man answered that yes, he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed.

The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, 'How do you know when the silver is fully refined?'

He smiled at her and answered, ' Oh, that's easy -- when I see my image in it.'

If today you are feeling the heat of the fire , remember that God has his eye on you and will keep watching you until He sees His image in you.

Pass this on right now. This very moment, someone needs to know that God is watching over them.

And, whatever they're going through, they'll be a better person in the end.

And here's a post about it I liked.

We do what we do because we must.

I Have A Head Ache

God Laughs and Plays (at my expense)

Going through some stuff. Brain-wise.

I have had a lot of expressions of concern about my general well being, my eternal soul, even. We're okay. Not to worry.

Can I get your varied and wide opinions on something?

One thing that has REALLY been bothering me was this General Conference talk. It made me outright angry and argumentative when I heard it. Who gets mad at General Conference talks? Honestly, don't we all just sit back and nob our heads? (quick synopsis for the lazy: In a household of faith, there is no need to fear or doubt. Choose to live by faith and not fear.)

Never in my life have I wanted more to debate a General Authority. (Well, maybe once, but I see now that I was wrong that other, completely different time.)

Before hearing this talk, I felt like doubt was normal, natural, and even healthy. Doubt makes me question, study, and test my spiritual hypothesis.

This [highly respected man of God] is suggesting that faith is a gift from God, a reward for obedience. He goes on to tell us, as parents, we must give it to our children. How's that? "Faith is a gift of God bestowed as a reward for personal righteousness" (Bruce R. Mckonkie). Shall we force personal righteousness upon our children? Tape the cupboards closed on fast Sundays to help them understand True righteousness, maybe?

Six destructive D's, he devised for me (who doesn't love alliteration?): doubt, discouragement, distraction, lack of diligence, disobedience, and disbelief.

First is doubt. Doubt is not a principle of the gospel. It does not come from the Light of Christ or the influence of the Holy Ghost. Doubt is a negative emotion related to fear. It comes from a lack of confidence in one’s self or abilities. It is inconsistent with our divine identity as children of God.

Doubt leads to discouragement. Discouragement comes from missed expectations. Chronic discouragement leads to lower expectations, decreased effort, weakened desire, and greater difficulty feeling and following the Spirit (see Preach My Gospel [2004], 10). Discouragement and despair are the very antithesis of faith.

Discouragement leads to distraction, a lack of focus. Distraction eliminates the very focus the eye of faith requires. Discouragement and distraction are two of Satan’s most effective tools, but they are also bad habits.

Distraction leads to a lack of diligence, a reduced commitment to remain true and faithful and to carry on through despite hardship and disappointment. Disappointment is an inevitable part of life, but it need not lead to doubt, discouragement, distraction, or lack of diligence.

If not reversed, this path ultimately leads to disobedience, which undermines the very basis of faith. So often the result is disbelief, the conscious or unconscious refusal to believe.

The scriptures describe disbelief as the state of having chosen to harden one’s heart. It is to be past feeling.

These Six Destructive Ds—doubt, discouragement, distraction, lack of diligence, disobedience, and disbelief—all erode and destroy our faith. We can choose to avoid and overcome them.

And I'm not so blind as to not see myself as a living example of that cycle. And yet, I would not say that my faith in God or the Gospel of Jesus Christ has been eroded.

What do I doubt? I am confused at how I can feel so neglected, despite my hyper-active church attendance. I have been told all my life, I have been teaching children for the better part of a decade that when they choose the right, they will be happy.

And, get ready for the blasphemy, it's not true.

Choosing the Right does not make you happy.

Choosing the right is hard and frustrating. Choosing the right means taking responsibility for your choices and you actions. Choosing the right means not choosing the wrong,even if the wrong seems really fun and exciting.

Perhaps it's a definitions debate ... what is Right? What is Happiness?

Right is bending your will to God's and it's as painful as it sounds, if you're a steel willed mongrel like me.

Happy? Isn't is joy and bliss and peace? Can I just tell you ... there are things I have to do at church because I said I would do them ... things I know are right ... not a joy. Way not peace.

IN CONCLUSION - you said, Brandy, go talk to the Bishop. And I said nope, I am a big, fat coward. God told the Bishop to put me here; when it's time for someone else, God will say so, right? That's how it works. That's the whole chain of authority and stewardship and all that stuff. You said, if church sucks, church is wrong. And that's not true either. It's not God bending HIS rules to make YOU comfortable ... it is how it is.

Funny story:

I went to church on Sunday because going to church is Right and Choosing the Right makes me happy. I took a deep breath before going into Primary. I made eye contact with the Primary President. I was going to say something indirect like, "I think maybe I might possibly like to be released if it wouldn't be too much trouble," but instead she spoke first: "Sister [So and so who has been an awesome team teacher] has asked to be released. We don't have a replacement, but we're going to try to get a parent in to help each week."

See? Do you SEE? GOD mocks me. He takes His big Holy finger, points it right at me, and chuckles ...

I cried when I told my husband. He laughs at me, too. Husband is so Godlike.