Don't Call Me Skinny

I am a US American woman – therefore, I have issues with my weight.

I believe there are 6 or 7 women in the US who don’t have issues with their weight or body image.  If you’re one of them, I’d love to talk to you.  I probably won’t believe you, but I’m open to persuasion.

My weight issues are two-fold:  The first issue surrounds keeping my weight where I want it.  The second issue involves the way other people react to my weight.

I hear it all the time:  “You’re soooo skinny.”  “You can’t understand how hard it is to struggle with weight.”  “It must be nice to be able to eat whatever you want and not gain a pound.”

You know what?  Screw you.

Assuming that I don’t have to work to stay in shape is just as bad as assuming someone is overweight because they’re lazy.

Get me?

Because, let me tell you, it doesn’t take much at all for me to balloon up.  If I don’t exercise and watch what I eat all the time I can pack on 20 pounds in 2 months without blinking.  I can think of two times in the past 10 years or so when, for various reasons (not pregnancy), I wasn’t really able to exercise and the way I ate was far from ideal.  And both those times?  I plumped up like a factory farmed turkey with a tube down its throat.  Bang.  And 20 pounds on my frame shows.

Because I do have a small frame.  I’m not denying that genetics plays a role.  Of course it does.  I am certain it is easier for me than for others to stay thin.  Both of my parents are very thin.  But you know what?  They both work their asses off every single day.

But genetics isn’t everything, and it’s not the only reason that I’m thin.  Did you notice that when I was pregnant I didn’t post my weight a single time?  I’ll give you once guess as to why that was.

Because I gained a LOT of weight, and I gained it fast.  I was straight up, uncontrollably hungry.  Like, so desperately hungry that I had to eat RIGHT THEN, as much and as fast as I could to such a degree that I think I actually bit my own finger a couple times.  It was crazy.  And MacGyver was so terrified I was going to damage the fetus working out that for months he wouldn’t let me get my heart rate up above 160 (though I did cheat a few times – I NEEDED the exercise).  Sooooo I gained.  Remember this:

6 Weeks

20 Weeks

30 Weeks

39 Weeks and 6 days - and In Labor!

40 Weeks

Yeah.  So it annoys me when people imply that maintaining my weight doesn’t take effort.  Why don’t you just call me lazy and spoiled?  It would be more to the point.

I’m thin because I run (and I mean full out, lung burning, painful RUN) a minimum of 9 miles a week.  Often times much more.  And I do all manner of strength work, mostly abs and arms.

I’m thin because I am VERY careful about what I eat.  The Ethical Eating journey has been amazing for this, but even before I was extremely focused on eating mainly veggies and only high-fiber whole grains.  And that doesn’t just mean I get tomato on my burger and eat iceburg lettuce salads.  No.  First of all, I try to eat veggies at every meal, including breakfast.  Sure, there are a lot of mornings when I just eat steel cut oatmeal instead, but I eat veggies at breakfast at least a couple times a week.  And I eat real veggies.  Spinach, Kale, broccoli.  And a variety.  Did you know that 70% of all US American calories come from four foods?  Four.  That is effing ridiculous.  And, from an anthropological (and medical, but I’m not really qualified to comment on the medical standpoint) standpoint very unhealthy.  So I eat a variety of veggies and other foods.  Eating seasonally really helps with that.  Yes, I still eat a lot of wheat, but I also eat a whole heck of a lot of non-wheat whole grains (quinoa, black, red, and brown rice . . .). 

And I READ about nutrition and food.  Our culture has gone so far from eating a rational, healthy, veggie focused, varied diet that you have to research it yourself.

My mother in law has been staying with us for 2 weeks, and has lost 15lbs thanks to the way we eat.  And she’s been cheating at night – and doesn’t think I know about it.

Long and short: I work out and I eat VERY well.  And if I don’t, I gain weight.  So forgive me if I look like I’m trying to refrain from smacking you when you say I can eat whatever I want and stay thin.  Because, trust me, I have been wanting a big, cheesy, greasy pizza for weeks now, but I’m not eating it.

So sometimes, I get offended by the things people say about my weight.  Then there are other times when I know the person commenting has good intentions.  Usually, they’re trying to compliment me by saying how thin I am.  And, sure, I’m flattered.  I mean, I really like my figure.  But these compliments are a little uncomfortable to deal with.  I’m not 100% sure why.  I mean, if you tell me you like my hair or I performed well in court, I will graciously and happily thank you.  But for some reason it feels really wrong to thank someone for calling me thin.  It’s like admitting that I’m thin makes me conceited.  I dunno. 

So, I’ve talked about how I have had to work in the past to avoid gaining weight.  Well, now I’m facing a different problem I never thought I would.

At 5’5” (or 6”) I consider 118lbs to be my ideal weight.  It’s rather arbitrary.  It’s just the weight I stayed at rather consistently when I was in high school (I once read a study that said people who maintain their high school weight throughout life live longer, and stay healthier).  A couple years ago I was being required to PT too hard and too often (I was the only female in my unit), and I dropped to 115lbs.  MacGyver said that I was much too thin, and I started to get sick more often.  So, I decided that 115 was too thin for me.  I eventually worked up the courage to tell the higher ups that I couldn’t PT like that anymore, and things got much better.  Except I didn’t gain the weight back. 

I stayed at 115 for a couple years (luckily, my body shape did go back to normal, and MacGyver confirmed that I was no longer too skinny).  Then I went to TBS which was very physically demanding, but also required horrible eating habits.  So I went up to 119 – at which point I got pregnant. 

Well, it didn’t take me too long to get back down to 118 after Flintstone was born.  Breastfeeding and vegetarianism (because Ethical Eating makes me a vegetarian the vast majority of the time) made it super easy.  Training for my next PFT didn’t hurt, either.

Lately, though, I’ve felt like I was eating all the time.  Still my regular diet (though I may have snuck a few Girl Scout cookies here and there), just more of it.  So, this weekend I hopped on the scale to see just how much damage my uncontrollable eating has done.

I stared at the scale, confused.  I hopped off and hopped back on. 

Same thing.

I called MacGyver over.  “Is the scale broken?”

He weighed himself. “Nope, not broken.”

I weigh 112lbs.

“Do I look sickeningly thin to you?”  I asked him.

“No, you look even better than you did at 115.”

Ok, so I suppose I’m okay with this.  I’m extremely healthy.  I’m eating like a pig.  I’m not bony or sickly or shapeless (actually I love my butt-waist-boobs shape more now than I ever have).  So I guess 112 is ok.

Except it’s not.

Because I have my annual weigh in (a Marine requirement) in a week or so.  And I am below the minimum weight for my height.  If you’re above weight, they put you on BCP, Body Composition Program, and make you work out and stuff.  I have no idea what they do if you fall below.  I’ve weighed in below standards before, but they just remeasured my height and I was magically an inch taller . . .

I also have a somewhat distorted body image.  Apparently I am not just thin.  Apparently I am very thin.  But I don’t see it.  Honestly.  I absolutely do not see myself as any thinner than most of my friends.  The other day, I good friend of mine let me borrow an outfit because we were going out to lunch and I didn’t have civilian clothes in my office.  I was so sure she was the same size as me, easily.  I was so wrong.  She is thin and fit and healthy.  And her clothes were falling off of me.

So, I have issues.  All sorts of issues with my weight.  With gaining, with loosing, with perception.  Everything.  Because I am a US American woman.  And that’s just the way it is.

So don’t call me skinny.

Add starLikeShareShare with noteEmailAdd tags

Apr 8, 2011 9:10 AM

Home Improvement

Remember that show?  Man, I loved that show when it was on.  And I was soooo in love with Jonathan Taylor Thomas*.  My friends and I used to go buy any TeenBeat/TigerBeat/whatever that had him on the cover, then buy some other magazine to hide it in because we were completely ashamed.  Hilarious.

This post is not about that.  But there are certainly some similarities.

Yet another less than entertaining post.  Bite me.  This is MY blog, and I will ramble inanely about the banalities of our life if I so choose.  And all my followers will leave me and I will cry.  Maybe I’ll have time to write a “real” post later today.  If the Earth’s rotation suddenly slows down and a few extra hours spring out of nowhere.

Remember when we bought our house? (Pictures).  And then when we spent all the time decorating it just perfect?  We painted the bedroom a beautiful, deep red, the master bath a dark slate gray with stone detailing on the countertops and trim – I WISH I had pictures of it, and MacGyver did the kitchen in an unbelievable Tuscan theme – warm textured yellow/gold walls and tile countertops.  And then remember when the Marines moved us 9 hours away from that house?

Well, we’ve been renting it out since then, which hasn’t been all that bad.  At the very least because of its location we haven’t had any trouble at all renting it out.  Actually, we have people competing (offering more rent, free repair services, etc) for it.  But that doesn’t mean there haven’t been any headaches.

MacGyver has had to drive up periodically to make repairs.  The last time he went up, he called me really pissed off.  The tenants apparently didn’t understand the difference between renting and owning nor did they seem to understand our very clear stipulations about which rooms they were and were not allowed to modify.  The wife painted our beautiful dark stone master bathroom light pastel blue.  Choke me.  She even painted the countertops!!!!  WTF?  Who paints countertops?  Who paints textured countertops?  They also took out our compost area.  Seriously?  We told them to put the bathroom back the way it was, or it would come out of the security deposit.

Then, in Nov, a pipe burst.  This kind of damage is covered by our homeowners insurance, so we didn’t think it would be much of an issue.  Wow, were we wrong.  To start, we had to fire the first contractor company because MacGyver caught them lying to us.  The next contractor had a psychiatric break and barricaded himself in his house holding his family hostage.  Yeah.  And those were just the beginning of the problems.  It was one thing after another after another after another.  It was unbelievable.  I won’t even try to give a timeline or cover all the effing craziness with this thing, but some of the highlights:

- An incompetent liaison at the insurance company who was SO hard to get a hold of and waited weeks before returning calls
-  The original contractor we had to fire did the water mitigation improperly which ruined the counters in the kitchen and caused a mold issue.
-  Due to mold and the heat going out (related to the water damage), we allowed the tenants to terminate the lease early and had to fight with the insurance  company to cover the rent even though it was clearly covered in our policy.
-  At least 10 different adjusters and other kinds of “experts” have had to be called in by us and the insurance company while we battled all the details out for getting all the water damage repaired as well as the damage the insurance company’s contractor caused.

And that’s just a sampling of it.  MacGyver has had to go up a couple times to deal with this crap, and it is getting old fast.  MacGyver has been AMAZING in dealing with it, though.  Seriously, all the phone time and paperwork required has been nuts and he has been spending SO MUCH TIME taking care of it.  I owe him something HUGE after all this (any suggestions?).

So, more than a week ago, MacGyver went up again to make a couple repairs unrelated to the damage before our new tenants move in.  And the final repair work from the burst pipe was just starting.  The pipe burst IN NOVEMBER!!!  The work was finished in APRIL.   FIVE MONTHS!  Frig.  But it’s done.  And we got to pick out beautiful new floors, countertops, carpet, etc.

So, MacGyver went to VA.  He was supposed to be there for 3 or 4 days.  He was supposed to come with me to Atlanta.  But things in my life so rarely go the way they’re supposed to, and those effects also spread to affect MacGyver.  So he got busy.  He did a billion things.  Seriously, he is the most productive person I know.  But he pushes himself too hard.  And he ended up in the emergency room because he passed out in a store.

Remember last April Fool’s Day?  You know, last time MacGyver was in the ER?  I am going to start chaining him to the bed at the end of March from now on.

Even better?  The butt didn’t even TELL me he was in the ER until two days later!  Needless to say, I can’t get him home soon enough and am going out of my mind with worry.  He was on his way home last night.  He texted me at 4 am to say that he had stopped to take a nap. 

I didn’t get the text because my phone was on silent, but, incidentally, Flintstone thought that would be a great time to wake up.  I was roused by little baby noises and something bumping insistently against my side.  I open my eyes to see a happy little chubby face smiling away, and up in crawling position – ready to party and move.  He’s been scooting and semi-crawling for a while now, but he’s just started really mastering it, and apparently 4am is a good time to practice.  And while I am a sleep whore, I can’t miss an opportunity to play with the little guy, so I was up and playing until he fell back asleep – 20 minutes before my alarm.  Cute.

Anyway, MacGyver should be home by now, but I haven’t heard from him.  I’m sure he fell right into bed.  I also can’t get a hold of my mother in law, who is still with us and has extended her stay by another week so she can lecture me on the evils of contraceptives and seatbelts and bitch about my cooking some more.  So that’s nice.

Anyway, I just wanted to get the house nonsense down now that it seems to be coming to a close.  Trust me, this is much better than if I had given you all a running commentary on this ridiculousness.

* I will now waste half my afternoon trying to determine where he is now and if he’s still hot . . . . . . Aaaaaannnd – apparently he is gay?  I can’t tell for sure.  Could just be internet rumors.  But I guess I wouldn’t be surprised.  After all, Lance Bass was by far my favorite member of *NSync, so it would fit with a trend for me ;-)  (Also, there are a bunch of idiots on the IMDB message board saying he couldn’t be gay because he’s a really solid guy, really smart, etc.  What the hell does any of that have to do with sexual orientation?  Jackasses.)

Recharged

I’ve been away for a while.  We took a long weekend to go to NY for a wedding, then yesterday I was SIQ (Sick in Quarters, a sick day for you civilian types).

I’m feeling much better now.  I’m still a little sick, but I really benefitted from a day in bed.  When I was younger, in college and law school (and probably in HS, too), I used to routinely take “recharge” days.  For a recharge day, I would blow off class and stay home in bed all day reading, writing, and watching old TV shows.

I live my life at an unsustainable pace.  Every morning, I set out to accomplish more than I ever possibly can in a given day, and I push myself past the point of exhaustion most nights.  It sounds very dramatic, but it’s really not.  In fact, the majority of professional women I know do the same thing.  In an effort to excel at work and be the best wives and mothers we can, we push ourselves harder and farther than we would otherwise – often with the aid of caffeine.

Eventually, for me at least, this pace overcomes me.  So many, many years ago, I developed recharge days – not consciously, really.  Back then they were just “Eff it; I’m not going” days.  But looking back, I see the internal mechanisms that brought me to that point.  And over time I came to recognize that I was 10 times more functional after these recharge days, so I felt very little guilt about taking them. 

Then I got married/became a mom.  The number of recharge days declined quickly.  Granted, I still had them from time to time.  Once in a while, while I was home studying for the bar and Punky was at school, I’d still have an “Eff it” sort of day at least until she came home.  But there wasn’t time to have as many.

Then I went on active duty.  Technically, if I just say “Eff it” and don’t show up for work, it’s a violation of Article 86 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice (meaning it’s a crime) and I could be Court Martialed.  I can take a day of leave, but 1) I like to horde my leave days, and 2) it’s a pain to take one at the last minute; they prefer to have a week or 2 notice.  It’s not a recharge day if it’s planned out.

So the recharge days all but stopped.  And it sucks.  Because work and life continue to pile more and more on my plate, and I continue to push myself harder and harder.  Eight hours of sleep (when I would prefer 9) is a joke.  I haven’t slept more than 5 hours straight in over a year (thanks to pregnancy bladder and breastfeeding), and I don’t typically get nearly 8 hours cumulatively in a night, even on weekends.  But I push through, because if I don’t do what I need to do, no one else will. 

Lately, though, everything has been starting to fray at the edges.  I’ve been becoming more scatterbrained than usual at work and robotic at home.  MacGyver was sick; we’ve been having an EPIC battle with our insurance company; and somehow the amount of housework we had seems to have magically quadrupled.  I was feeling the strain, to say the least.  But I bitched to my friends, got it out of my system put on a happy face and kept plugging along.

This weekend was as crazy as any we’ve had.  Work was a mad effing dash right up until the moment I left.  Court went amazingly.  It was exhausting as always, but I was on top of my game, and I freaking love the public defender and parole officer I work with, so I blew court out of the water and planned on calling it a day and heading home.  Yeah, that sooooo didn’t happen.  I had 6 different things that HAD to be done before I could leave the office and 2 oclock quickly became almost 5.  Rushed home, cleaned up, sanitized things, packed, and off we went.

I’ll lay out the whole trip in a different post when I have pictures ready.  For now, I’ll say it was a blast, but by Saturday I was starting to feel sickish.

Monday, on the way home, I decided that if I still felt like hell in the morning, I was getting an SIQ chit.  Which is exactly what I did, and I am sooooo glad.

I spent the whole day in bed reading, watching Cashmere Mafia, and cuddling the Flintstone.  It was amazing.  The perfect recharge day.  It would have been a different story if I were super sick, puking up my guts and whatnot, but I wasn’t.  I had a sore throat, headache, intermittent fever, and achy muscles, but nothing too severe.  I just needed a day to sleep it off.

And it worked like a charm.  I have just been blowing through things today.  Yes, I still have an insurmountable volcano of work piled up, but I no longer feel the urge to light it on fire and toss it out the window throw it away.  I am knocking things out left and right, and I know that when I get home, the same will be true.

Now, I just have to figure out how I’m going to get my next recharge day – because looking at my schedule for the next few months, I’m going to NEED one . . .

Happy Wednesday All!

Beautiful Weekend

It looks like Imbolc brought us Spring here in the South.  It was an absolutely gorgeous holiday weekend.  Punky had one of her best friends over to spend the night Friday night, and Saturday morning we went hiking:

On our hike, we saw the Loch Ness Monster:

And, ultimately, we ended up on the beach at low tide:

It was so beautiful, and there was almost no one else there.  The girls had a blast:

So did Flintstone:

MacGyver and I had a pretty good time, too:

* * *

Back at home, Flintstone had tummy time:

So did MacGyver:

Then, on Sunday, we spent some time at a different beach before we dropped Punky off for an overnight birthday party (woohoo grown-up time!):

Since it's not really clear from the picture, I should point out that the onsie Flintstone is wearing in the picture above says "Objection!"

Are those not the most adorably pudgy baby feet you've ever seen?

Sunday night we closed down Barnes & Noble - I know, we're wild.  I freaking love bookstores.  All of them.  They closed at 10, but I could have stayed there for hours more.  Then we went for a wonderful late dinner and had a really interesting conversation about psychology and Bloom Boxes (some alt energy thing that MacGyver is really into).  At home, we relaxed with some beer (MacGvyer) and hard cidar (me).  We had finished the amazing bottle of Eiswein* that MacGyver got for our Miniversary on Friday.

Monday morning, we slept in.  Well, I sort of slept in.  Flintstone stayed asleep until almost 7, and after I was up with him for couple/few hours, MacGyver and I climbed back in bed.  Flintstone slept for a full 2 hours, so we got to take an awesome nap - and stuff.

Later, we went out and got a ton of stuff to put in two new gardens (so we will have 3 all together).  I'm so excited to start on that.  Whenever I figure out a time.

In closing, I know this isn't the best picture of me, but how hot are these boots?  I'm wearing them as much as I can before the weather gets too warm and I'm back to sandals/barefoot:



* Eiswein is my favorite wine indulgence.  Reisling is my favorite wine in general, but Eiswein is really something special.  It's super sweet because it's made from frozen picked grapes - which is also why it's more rare and a fair bit more pricey than other wines.  MacGyver surprised me with a bottle when I got home on our Miniversary.  Not only that, but he had also framed and hung up all of my Grandpa's paintings - something I have been wanting to do for a long time.  My Grandpa was an amazing artist, and I want to preserve all his art that I can get my hands on.

My Office Smells Awesome!

This is just an update to the post before it, Bull-Headed Bulldozers and Cheesecake.  Pretty please read that one first since it's the real post.  This is just the pocket part.  Or, if you're not a law type, its a sidecar. 

MacGyver and I had lunch together at a little place near my work.  His idea.  He called me when he was close, and I walked over to meet him, but then it took 10 minutes forever for him to show up.  No biggie.  He said he was stuck behind a big truck that appeared to be lost.  Not unusual on this base.  So we had a pleasant lunch, and I came back to my office. 

Turns out HE LIED about the reason he was delayed getting to lunch.  My office smells so pretty right now thanks to the three beautiful boquets he snuck in.  He really is just the coolest husband ever.

He also brought in my new RC tank that shoots plastic BBs.  Which drastically decreased the productivity of a few of my co-workers and one of my bosses for a little while. 

As Mama's Thyme would say, "I got the spoileds." :-D

And that only covers up to lunch time . . .

PS:  Man, you all have written some AWESOME posts today.  I am going to do my best to shoot some well deserved comments your way tonight, because, wow.  It's been a fruitful day in the blogsphere!

Bull-Headed Bulldozers and Cheesecake

(The picture of us was taken not too long after the establishment of the miniversary.)

My life is like a sine wave.  When nothing is going on then, seriously nothing is happening beyond the everyday rumble of chaos that is always in the background.  But the second one thing breaks loose – good or bad – everything flies off the handle.  The last trimester or so of my pregnancy was pretty low key, as were the first couple/few months of Flintstones life.  Then we went into an upswing.  You may have noticed that I've been rather busy lately.  Work, family time, insurance claims, massive renovations, and administrative bedlam abound.  As always, I am embracing the disarray with confident knowledge that this too shall pass and before I know it, we will be in a whole new phase of excitement.  Things are FAR from bad, but they certainly are crazy hectic. 

Last week, though, was hard.  I have been wearing thin.  MacGyver is having some health problems and the Docs aren't providing any answers, so I have been worried about him and trying to get him to slow down and take it easy (not something that comes easily to MacGyver; he's very driven).  And Flintstone is popping out teeth like a baby shark.  Tuesday night he had a hard time going to sleep then woke up again at 1, then again at 2, at which point he stayed WIDE awake – not fussy, but really ready to party – until 4:30, and he slept only fitfully after that.  I finally dozed off, conveniently about 10 seconds after my final alarm went off and woke up a half hour later.  I was almost late for work.  Needless to say, I was a little bit cranky pants at work yesterday.

But last night, Flintstone was back to sleeping like a champ.  He slept the whole time I was getting ready for work this morning, too, which is always a blessing, and MacGyver seemed to be feeling pretty good.  He was certainly looking pretty good . . . 

Sorry.  Distracted.

Anyway . . .   When I had to write the date on the forms for dropping Flintstone off, I commented to his super awesome care provider that today is our Miniversary (basically, our dating anniversary) and I hadn't even realized it.  I mean, I have his gift and card waiting in my office, but I didn't realize it this morning.  Oh well, MacGyver didn't say anything about it either.

Then I got to work.  And guess what I found in my bag? 

That little sneak!  He is soooo into surprises, and he always beats me in the romance department, no matter how hard I try.  If you can't tell from the pictures, my first surprise of the day was an assortment of 4 different kinds of cheesecake.  And I'm told there's more to come.  I pointed out to him that we decided to go low-key this year and set a $20 spending limit.  He said that because of the migraines (side effect of the health issues lately), he may have forgotten that.  Scoundrel. 

So today is going to be a good day.  I'm very excited about it.  We already had our Miniversary dinner Monday night because Punky had a thing to go to from 5:30 to 9.  We had some delicious Asian fusion food, then went to our favorite coffee house downtown for dessert, and took a long walk by the waterfront.  I may miss winter, but there are some pluses to living in the South.  The weather was beautiful and downtown here is so pretty.

We'll see what the rest of today has in store, because even in the midst of all the craziness that can present itself in our lives, he is always a bright spot.

I feel the need to recognize just how lucky I am to have MacGyver in my life.  I've commented a million times about what an amazing father he is; how compassionate, loving, witty, and HOT he is.  But there's more to it than that.  It's not just all his amazing qualities, but also how those qualities affect me.

Being with MacGyver makes me a better person and makes our lives better in general.    He is one of the most considerate men you'll ever meet.  He truly pays attention to what I like and how I feel about things.  Sometimes I wonder if he knows me better than I know myself.  He always seems to know exactly what I need – even when what I need isn't pretty.

Because MacGyver is an extremely blunt and honest individual.  To put it plainly, I think it takes a very strong woman to be with MacGyver (I know that sounds braggy, but follow me on this).  MacGyver will never hesitate to tell me when I'm full of crap or to pull me back down to the details when I'm too focused on the big picture.  If you're looking for someone to constantly stroke your ego or who will just play along and do things your way, MacGyver is not your guy.  He has a low tolerance for BS and zero tolerance for narcissism.  He will weigh in whether you ask for his opinion or not.

And I freaking love it.  I find it really comforting to know that I have that check there.  Where other people will tell you what you want to hear while in the back of their minds thinking you're making a fool of yourself or wishing you would change what you're doing, MacGyver will come out and say it.  So I never have to worry that he's not saying what he means, or that I'm doing something dumb without realizing it.  Because I can be a bit flighty.  And I can shockingly be quite a little full of it from time to time.  And I hate feeling like people are just nodding along when I talk.  MacGyver listens, and if I get too lawyery, he calls me on it.

And you know what else?  It makes every compliment, every sweet sentiment a million times more meaningful.  I have always hated dating guys who spew flattery and platitudes.  Even now, if a guy flirts with me and starts blurting out boilerplate compliments, I immediately hop inside my head for a scathing monologue.  I mean, it really is rather insulting.  How shallow do you think I am that you feel the need to suck up to me?  You could at least stop to think for ten seconds before you start blabbering that superficial crap.

But with MacGyver, it's different.  Because his praise is real.  Since I know that he'll tell me if he doesn't like something I'm wearing or if he thinks I'm talking out my a$$, I also know that when he says all the wonderful things he says, he really means them.  This praise is detailed, perfectly fit to me, and honest.  And he's not stingy with the compliments, either.  It seems like every time we talk, I come away feeling more.  I can't really describe it.

If MacGyver doesn't like you, you'll know it in ten seconds flat.  He can pick out your flaws and nail you with them with grave accuracy.  Shallow people don't get along with MacGvyer.  I have at least two friends (not super close, but still friends) who don't like him because he doesn't put up with their BS and he doesn't stroke their egos (or nod along when they are publicly stroking their own).  This trait can make him pretty freaking obnoxious in arguments, and, man, have we had some great ones.  They are extremely few and far between, but damn.  It sucks to argue with someone that blunt who can nail all your flaws.  But it's also amazing.  Because every confrontation is a giant step forward for each of us.  Because nothing simmers in the background, unresolved and ignored.

It is so much better than anything I've had in the past – spineless wimps who just let me have my way (though I did have some very evil fun with those types in my younger years) and the fun, flirtatious, playboys no deeper than a sidewalk puddle.  Ultimately, in my past, I trampled every single guy I dated.  Even Evil Ex before he lost his mind.  But I can't trample MacGyver, and it's the best thing that could have happened to me.

For some people, in some relationships, a dominant personality and a submissive personality fit together perfectly.  But not for me.  I am strong willed and opinionated and can bulldoze over submissive personality types without even realizing it.  I'm so glad to have found someone strong enough to stand up to me, keep up with me, challenge me, and still be there for me when I fall apart.  Which is the real beauty of it.  No one is strong all the time.  And if you're the only strong one in a relationship, who supports you when your strength runs out?  BUT that is a whole other tangent.

MacGyver makes me a better person.  It's not always easy, but it is always, always worth it.

I'm not trying to brag going on about how strong willed MacGyver and I both are.  It's merely a personality type, which, like any other, has its positives and negatives.  In this context, I don't mean strong to be a qualitative measure.  And if you're reading this as some sort of braggy post, you're missing the point.