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Chicken-Ito

…is what my mother (yes, my own mother!) used to call me when I was in junior high and high school. Because I was pretty scared of anything having to do with sports or athletics. It had to do with a combination of stories but one she liked to repeat was when I went on some school-sponsored ski trip, and ended up on an expert slope (which I was SO NOT). I was wearing blue jeans, and I was so terrified I ended up taking off my skies, holding them in my lap and sliding, or scooching down the hill on my butt, leaving a long wiggly blue streak on the snow. Or so the legend goes. My mother loved that story, and loved repeating it, and loved calling me Chicken Ito. Which I would respond to with some sort of weak smile, but inside it just made me shrivel.

Because I was also terrified of any sport involving a ball. She signed me up for years (WAS it years? It felt like it) of private tennis lessons, and I never got beyond using the racket as a sort of face-shield. I was petrified of volleyball and basketball and softball, ANYthing that involved a ball coming anywhere near my body. Dodgeball? Utter terror. I was the one always cowering in the corner with my hands over my face. Maybe because I wore glasses. And orthopedic shoes. Ack.

Was she the one who came up with that name for me, or did she just perpetuate it? I don’t know. At any rate, if you mention it to her now, she will still get the chuckles. Ha ha.

She was always the jock in our family. She played tennis or racquetball several times a week, and was known to slam the ball at people so hard they’d get huge bruises. It scared me.

When our church group went to the YMCA down the street to play basketball after church, my mother always got picked for teams ahead of me. Always. She was four foot ten. I was five foot four. But I was notoriously afraid of any ball and she was fearless.

Chicken Ito will raise (or hide) her chickeny little head whenever I contemplate the word “exercise,” or worse, SPORT. Bak-bak-bak. Thus, it has the top position on my list of Excuses.

Do I Have to Let Go?

I’m reading a lot of Tweets and blogs today about people saying “Good riddance!” to 2009. 2009 sucked very much for very many people. There were big personal tragedies and losses, and the economy was terrible, and I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW.

But I have to admit that I am feeling kind of… attached to 2009. This is the year that I finally found health. I finally got fit, and finally lost the weight that has plagued me for most of my adult life.

I am just the teeniest bit afraid of 2010, and part of me is not READY to move on. What if 2010 is the year of my downfall? I know, I know, I’m not supposed to think like that. But for me, 2009 was kind of a miracle and part of me would not be surprised if 2010 was sort of back to business as usual.

I feel like I’m the only person out there who isn’t completely ready to step into a new year.

I hope that my New Years’ Eve will help me make this transition gracefully. First I’m going to lead the Very Last WW meeting of the year (filling for another leader) at my center. Then, in the evening I’m going to a lovely, cozy soup party hosted by a dear friend. Then I’m going to meditate in the New Year at the meditation center where I haven’t been in way too long. Hopefully, by the time the clock strikes, I’ll be ready for a new year.

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