I AM OFFICIALLY WUSSING OUT OF THE TINY PANTS

Months ago I published pictures of the Wonder Woman Halloween costume I intended to wear for Halloween.  At my daughter, Lily’s, urging, I ordered it from Party City.  It consists of a plastic molded top that covers the front part of my torso and is open on the sides and back, though there is a cape.  The bottom is little pants that would expose a fair amount of butt cheek.  My butt cheeks are not attractive.  To say it exposes a lot of skin is a gross understatement. 

Two of my girlfriends, Nancy and Jessica, who both love me and only have my best interests at heart, recently expressed their absolute horror at my walking outside my house in those “little pants”.  I told them I bought a body stocking that goes from my head to my feet and down my arms.  They say that’s not enough. 

I was at the American Legion singing karaoke on a Saturday when they announced Halloween is on a Saturday, come to karaoke in costume.  I thought that is AWESOME because the average age of the men at the Legion is 80 and they will be thrilled to see me in that costume.  Jessica said men in their 40s would be happy to see me in that costume but still, no.

I have a picture of that Wonder Woman costume on the screen of my cell phone to remind myself I am wearing it and plan accordingly.  On a plane from Syracuse to JFK I was sitting and talking to a really nice guy.  He asked what was up with the Wonder Woman picture, did I think I was Wonder Woman?  I said no, and explained that was what I was wearing for Halloween but I was a bit concerned about all the skin showing with the lack of coverage the costume provided.  He said hell ya wear that costume.  Guys, you gotta love ‘em.  They’re not nearly so concerned about my personal appearance as women.

My friend MPK said her group is walking up and down Las Olas in costume, I am welcome to join them.  I’m thinking in that little costume, hell no.

Four weeks ago I injured my leg.  It has been out of commission in the exercise arena since.  That hasn’t helped.  The leg exercises really help my legs and hips, and energy level for that matter.  I have been focusing on abs and arms.

Still, between the two friends and the daughter they are telling me please do not go out in the little pants.  What to do?  What to do? 

My daughter asks why I don’t just start starving the week ahead to try to get smaller.  I’ll tell ‘ya why, cause I green juiced all the prior week to no avail, missing the leg exercises is a killer.

I caved to the pressure.  I went to one Halloween store where I saw the little skirt.  It’s so cute.  I bought it.  They also had a different top, not so cute, but more coverage than the one I had.  I bought it.  Then someone told me another store might have better tops, a bodice top.  I went to the other store.  I bought it.  I have three Wonder Woman costumes, maybe next year I’ll go out in the little shorts.  

The Dolphin Boy and the Hand Holder

Touched by Angels

            My daughter and I traveled frequently all throughout her childhood.  We love adventure.  The Memorial Day weekend when Lily was nine found us in the middle of Tennessee.  We stayed at a hotel with a fantastic swimming pool.  Each evening found us in the large, beautifully landscaped indoor/outdoor pool.  That’s where we met Devin.

            Lily is an only child and was unaccustomed to ten year old boys.  Add to this the fact that Devin was not your average ten-year old and trouble was brewing.   Devin took an instant liking to Lily.  They were the only two children in the pool and Devin was thrilled with his new playmate.  He started jumping near Lily, almost on top of her.  He liked to poke her.  Lily was not used to mischievous males. 

            Devin’s father explained Devin had Angelman Syndrome.  He lacked fine motor skills, like holding a pencil.  His Dad said Devin couldn’t talk.  Lily said Devin could talk.  By the end of the weekend, I agreed with Lily because Devin communicated proficiently, but I’d have to watch video to see if he was talking. 

            Devin was mainstreamed in public school.  One night I asked him, “Devin, do you get in a lot of trouble at school?”  Oh yeah he nodded with enthusiasm.  Devin also communicated through body language.  His favorite motion was holding his hand in front of his face.  His palm faced him and he moved the hand rapidly back and forth.  I never determined what that meant, but he used it a lot.  What Devin lacked he compensated for with enthusiasm and joy for living. 

            Devin loved the water.  He was in the pool for hours every night.  He was a bundle of energy.  The first night Lily was so afraid of him that my entire function was to act as a buffer between the two.

            The second night Devin’s sister was there.  Now Lily had a playmate.  She was thrilled.  I had a playmate too.  I had Devin.  For the next three nights Devin and I played.  He loved to make a running jump into the pool landing inches from me.  Devin climbed up my back like I was a mountain and jumped off my shoulders.  When he was temporarily tired he grabbed me and clung to me, like I was an island. 

            Devin was nervous going between the indoor and outdoor area of the pool.  You went through a small corridor that had perhaps 12 inches of breathing room above the water line.  Devin couldn’t coordinate to walk through that corridor.  The first time I got him through by telling him to hold his breath as I pulled him.  He didn’t like that.  The next time I tried floating him through on his back.  That worked.  I was told Devin couldn’t swim, but I saw him swim.  Devin also liked to chase objects in the pool.  Devin could do more than you think.

            Devin would jump excitedly to me and I would “catch” him.  We also played tag.  He tagged me “it”.  Then, when I chased him and tagged him he slapped me, angrily.  Then he laughed and planted big, wet kisses on my cheek.  He was such a boy.  We never saw Devin in the day time, because we were always out, but we played every night.  As we were flying home I told Lily, “I’ll miss Devin.” 

            July saw us at a fair in Ontario.  Lily loves fairs.  I purchased her an armband, so she could go on the rides as many times as she wanted.  I take that literally, it means as many times as she wants.  It means over and over, until you lose count. 

            Lily fell in love with a ride called the Cannon Ball.  It takes you high in the air then plunges you down like an out-of-control elevator, stopping short before it hits the ground.  Lily went on that ride over and over.  I stood watching her for hours.  In the evening a group of three stopped to watch the ride.  It was two adults with a teenager who had Down’s syndrome.  “Brian,” they said to him, “Watch that ride.”  They were fascinated by it.

            Brian watched the ride, but before he did that he reached over and took my hand, holding it in his own.  He didn’t let go.  We all stood, watching the ride.  We were interrupted by Lily walking towards me.  “Lily,” I told her, “This is Brian, and he likes me.”  She smiled.  Brian’s parents told him he had to go.  He released my hand.  I was so happy to meet Brian.  He reminded of Devin, but quieter.  I look forward to the next angel who touches me.  They communicate in the language of acceptance and love.  They contribute more than you think.

Hillmanns 6 1913 Marian is Three Years Old

THE HILLMANNS OF BROOKLYN

Chapter 6

Marian Is Three Years Old

The notation on the back of these photos tell us they were taken when Marian was 3 years and 2 months old, which was January 1913

Marian Hillmann in 1913 in the snow in Brooklyn

Marian's mother Rose is on the right. I believe the woman on the left is Rose's sister Henrietta.

Henrietta Siegele never married and was a dress maker and seamstress.

It's June of 1913 and we're at the beach.

Marian with her father, Herman

Beautiful and Shallow

I am a lawyer who makes house calls.  House calls are usually for elderly clients who have trouble getting to my office.  They frequently require witnesses.  They are a big deal. 

I met with an elderly woman I had not seen for years.  The last time I saw her I weighed 100 pounds more than I do now. 

I am very fond of most elderly people and young children because generally they speak their mind and are honest.  I walked into the house and saw the woman was placed in a chair.  I could see she was uncomfortable.  She smiled and exclaimed I was so beautiful.  I thanked her.  I told her how good it was to see her.  I was sorry she was unwell.  I touched her arm and took her hand.  I talked to her about the documents we were signing.  She told me, over and over, so many times, I was so beautiful.  She could not get over how beautiful I was. 

The witnesses arrived.  It can take a long time for an older person to go through and sign documents and place their initials on the various pages and paragraphs.  As we stopped in places I explained what she was signing, she looked at me telling me she was so happy I was so beautiful.  I thanked her.  I wasn’t going to argue with her.  That would be so rude.  When I left I bent down to kiss her cheek.  It’s hard to be old and sick.  She touched me deeply. 

It is so strange to me to be told I am beautiful.  I’m not saying it’s true or untrue.  It’s neither, it’s an opinion.  I am saying I hear it a lot and I do not know that I will ever get used to it.  And I think about it a lot, ‘cause I am a thinker.  I think maybe the greatest gift God gave me by suddenly being able to achieve weight loss at 50 years old after a lifetime of morbid obesity is the ability to experience the difference from being perceived as fat and ugly to being perceived as beautiful.  My daughter the model said it’s good to be pretty because people like being around pretty people.  She’s right.  You gotta try a whole lot harder when you think of yourself as fat and ugly.

Two days later I am processing the documents the woman signed.  I call her daughter to talk to her about what is involved.  Her daughter tells me after I left all her mother talked about was beautiful I am, from the time I left until she went to bed.  And had her daughter noticed the beautiful clothes I was wearing?  Her daughter told her lawyers dress up.  Yes, we do, it makes people feel better about paying us.  Do you want to pay that much to a lawyer in shorts and a t-shirt?  The daughter expressed her appreciation for all I do for them and said her mother said I am the most beautiful woman she has ever seen.  Wow, how to live up to that, I so hate to be a disappointment.  It made me feel sorry for her daughter.

Why is it so hard to listen to the endless, “You are so pretties?”  It is because the difference in the manner in which I am treated depending on whether I am big or small is tremendous, but it seems to me more of me did not change with the weight loss than the part of me that did change. 

I think almost all women living in South Florida today have numerous things about themselves they do not like.  When I weighed closer to 300 pounds than 200 I couldn’t even comprehend articles about troublesome body parts because I didn’t like the whole, why pick on any one part?  Now that I am smaller I know what they mean.  Which parts don’t you like?  Guess what?  Many of the parts you don’t like can’t even be changed.  You can’t go from being 5’ tall to 5’8”.  Did anyone else ever read “Black Like Me?”  Did you see the movie “Good Hair”?  Why do we want to look different?  So we can be prettier.  Why do we want to be prettier?  Because people will treat us better and let me assure you it’s really, really true. 

And then guess what, you can even be smart enough to know this and still be guilty of it.  I’ll give you an example.  My girlfriend asks, “What was the guy you went out with like?”  I tell her, “He was absolutely beautiful.”  “You’re shallow, Mare.”  I know it, must work on that.  

Hillmanns 5 1911-12

THE HILLMANNS OF BROOKLYN

Chapter 5

1911-12

Papa Herman with toddling Marian, all bundled up walking down the Brooklyn Street

Here she is with Mama Rose in the days before waterproof winter jackets.

Rose and Marian on the porch

Spring came and the Hillmanns went to visit someone in a big house. Whose house is it? I don't know. Who are the people on the lawn? I don't know.

In a car. Rose obviously knew the other woman well enough to be comfortable with her holding Marian.  If it wasn't apparent already, Marian looks exactly like her father, Herman.

I am a family historian. In 2011 my father gifted me with the photos you are seeing.  In other photos I can  identify Herman's sister, and Rose's siblings. But I can't identify these people. They could be friends, but I think this picture is more indicative of family. Both Herman's mother and Rose's mother came from large families, which makes me thinks these are aunts, uncles or cousins, but I don't know who they are.

Like the previous Summer, in 1911 the Hillmanns went sailing at least once, but I don't know with who.

The Hillmanns enjoy the beach. They go every year, at least once.

This picture is the start of a different beach day, not the same one as the last picture.

Here we have Rose and Marian on the right, and another mother and her child on the left, but I don't know who they are.

This is yet a third beach day. I have dated all the pictures based on placement in the album and guessing how old young Marian looks in the picture. The clothing these people are wearing on the beach blows my mind.

Summer vacation tourist location BonBons and Chocolates

The picture quality is not great, Rose from Brooklyn is showing her daughter, Marian, a pig in the country. It makes me want to pull out a picture of my daughter when she was two looking a pig. I remember looking at pigs when I was a child too.

Marian with chickens

Marian is with a man who greatly resembles her father, but is not her father.  

Marian with Rose and another little girl

I believe the above picture was taken in 1911 and the below picture was taken a year or two later.  Same house, same girls.  I don't know whose house it is or who the other little girl is.

Wish I knew where we were? Anyone recognize this building?

Herman's Mom, Grandma Emma with her second husband, Otto Schmidt in October 1911 (one of the few labeled pictures). It's clear from studying this album that at this time, the German community stuck together.

Marian was born in November.  I believe this is her official 2 years old picture.