hope4change2012
Hardwood Floors and Plastic Surgery
Nov 19, 2012
What? Hardwood floors and plastic surgery? Yes. Part of the nesting before I leave and preparing a clean home to return to and Healing Heaven that I'm hoping to create for my return, is that I decided to have my hardwood floors redone. Um. Yesterday. Kind of last minute. The price was fair, the opportunity presented itself and I went for it. I bought my house in 2000 and had the beautiful old oak floors done then and now, here we are almost 13 years later and they were tired and needed a lift as well. It's also a great way to get them clean too and with dogs and years of traffic, I wanted them clean. I didn't do the entire house, but the hallway, living room and my bedroom. That way I was able to move things around so they could get them done. It was a big job, but not too bad. The guys helped move things. I was so excited as they cleaned them, buffed them (no sanding, it's a new cheaper way to do the floors, not as deep with a buff, but not as messy or as expensive) and put the first coat on them. Then I had to run off to work. I had taken before and after pics before I left and posted on Facebook and got many LIKES. They were shiny and beautiful.
When I walked in and looked at the furniture in disarray and realized I had an hour of putting things back, I bucked up and got into work mode and hooking up tv's mode and maybe I want to rearrange things any way, but maybe not, mode, etc. I was tired. I had been up early, the pre op 4 am wake up I've been in, the busy-ness getting ready for the floor guys, I had worked, grocery shopped to have a stocked fridge for my return, and then this. I was tired. As I was moving things around and then realized I scratched the floor, I was starting to get irritated and started thinking: they don't look that great, sure a little better, but not much. I noticed imperfections in the job the guy had done...literally a couple spots of the floor coating that was gloppy and bubbly like it just needed to be brushed over one more time and it wouldn't have been there, but too late, it's there and it's there in my hallway, a spot in my doorway to my bedroom. Maybe this was stupid of me. Maybe this isn't much better at all. Sure, it's a little better, but worth all the effort and money. Oh wait, there's another spot. This sucks. I don't like it.
Wait a minute. Look at the before picture. This is a great improvement. The entire floor is shining, new colors have been brought out that weren't there before. It's clean. Years of crud from dogs and seasons and kids and you name it has been removed. Sure, there's a few things that aren't perfect, but I was focusing on that. Focusing on total of about 1 foot of stuff I don't like out of 400 ft (I know, small house, but it's super cute). I looked at the before and I compared it. There is a great improvement.
It wasn't lost on me that I have that side of me that could rear it's ugly head after surgery to: Yeah But.
Yeah but...everything. It works great for my career because I try harder to be clever and smart. However, my tendency to focus on the little imperfections have plagued me my entire life. The pain of it has caused a shutting down to cope with it in some areas.
I think I got overweight from thinking it doesn't matter. I hate my body any way. I have cellulite, big thighs and yes, I'm curvy, but I have a big ass. (I'll never understand butt implants). No man will ever love me because of the way I look. I may have written that I found an old Brownie book that I had made an entry in that read: "Weight 60. Want to weigh 55" that I had written when I was about 8 I think. This not good enough goes way back.
I valiantly fell in love over the years but apparently was not worthy of an MRS. I was worthy enough to spend my money, at least in the case of the last heartbreak, but not worthy enough to care for completely. Worthy enough to love until it was convenient for him to say: I didn't love you the last year, as a convenient excuse to toss me and replace me with a newer thinner model (she's coyote ugly though as my friends say, but she's thin!) As his employment situation drastically improved, I was no longer needed. I "yeah butted" my way into that dysfunctional relationship, yeah he's got legal and unemployment issues with his exwife and kids and so much chaos, but he loves me and we'll be together forever and I can help bring laughter and joy to all of their lives (I did. I honestly did.). But I digress..."Yeah but" has been a stubborn side of me that I just realized. I shouldn't work day and night, it's not healthy, I"m exhausted, "yeah but" if I just do enough, give enough, I will be loved enough...really..he and the kids appreciate all I've done for them. Or, I shouldn't eat this at midnight, "yeah but I'm exhausted and I'll start my diet tomorrow and I'm afraid I won't make it home w/o falling asleep on the hour drive home and food will distract me and help me get home (that part was true, but food wasn't the answer, sleep was.)" Or, hearing, you look great with all the weight you've lost and you're active and fit...and I say, "Yeah but, wish I didn't wait until I was 51" or, "Yeah, but look at this hanging skin and these thighs." "Yeah but I am single and heartbroken, well, broken and look at this old ugly body." Well meaning friends and family while I was going through my break up grief, which was epic, OMG, any way, wanted to point all the great things I do have, which honestly, are many, but...wait for it... "yeah but" I don't have him or the life that I worked hard for to have with him or his love or...blah blah blah...him him him... yeah but, yeah but, yeah but, yeah but I suck. Yeah but look at what I'm not and look at what I don't have.
I leave tomorrow for my Body by Sauceda. I will meet my new friends and beloved surgery sisters. I will ask them to take before pictures, lots of them, so when I get done with surgery and settle into old, well worn, 'yeah but' behavior, I can see the old floor vs the new floor, so to speak, is greatly improved.
I really don't want my eyes to go right to the scar that's slightly crooked, the thighs that aren't perfect, the boobs that could have been better, the wish that I had done this one more thing or hadn't done that thing...the ...God knows what my self-critical "yeah but" eyes will see.
As I sit here at now 5:15 am, literally about 51 hours from my 1st surgery, I am going to look at the landscape of my beautiful new floors and enjoy their beauty. They are old and unique and shinier than they were. They accent my furniture and are clean and glowing and revitalized.
As with my hardwood floors, I soon will be looking at the landscape of my beautiful new body and enjoy its beauty. It is old and unique, but shinier than it was. It will accent my life and will be clean and glowing and revitalized.
Yeah but.
Yeah but nothing. Let's leave that on the good doctors table, along with my broken heart and low self esteem.
