Thursday, November 8, 2007

Stares, Awkward Looks and Stairs . . .

Joy and I were talking last night about how much we love the new house. It is about 2 1/2 times the size of our "miniature mansion" in Connecticut and it has three full floors of living space . . . and we use every square inch of it.

Our bedroom and Ava's "big girl room" (we are no longer calling it a nursery for various reasons - many of which make us look slightly nutty so we won't get in to them here) and a bathroom are on the top floor. The main floor is our living room, dining room, kitchen, guest room, bathroom and Ava's playroom. The basement is our family room, a second kitchen, the third bathroom, the laundry room and a utility/work room. LOTS of space.

Now here is the kick . . . you have to go up and down stairs to get from Point A to Point B. For instance - we put Ava to bed at 7:00 PM at night. The beauty of Central Time is that primetime television starts at 7:00 too so we get her settled and then go to the basement to watch TV. Every up and down for Ava involves two flights of stairs.

Here is why I'm telling you this . . . I sort of let it slip last night that I don't know if I would have liked our house . . . much less loved it . . . eight months ago (before my surgery). Why? Too many gosh darned stairs.

I used to go out of my way to avoid even five or six stairs and I would never, in our house in Baltimore, go from basement to upstairs without a layover on the ground floor in the middle. We had looked at a condo when we first moved to Bethel that had stairs EVEYWHERE that I came up with other reasons to hate without telling Joy it was the stairs.

During my DC days I would not go to certain social functions based on the closest Metro stop and wether or not I would be willing to walk up the stairs from the platform to the gates or the gates to the street should the escalators be out of service and the elevator inconvinient. I used to avoid the "Courthouse" movie theater because of all the stairs you had to use to get to some of the theaters. My apartment was on the ground floor but you had to go up eight stairs to get to it . . . and some days I cursed all eight of those stairs. I was truly THANKFUL when I found out my workspace was on the ground floor at my last job. Even with elevators for use, I was still happy it was not an issue I would have to worry about.

I was just too fat and too out of shape to handle stairs when I was in DC and could not manage all the stairs in my life even just 2/3 of a year ago. I'm not proud to say that but I'm comfortable saying that, now.

Today I can bound up and down them several times an evening (as needed) and I don't look for reasons why I can't go basement to upstairs in one swift series of motions.

Joy looked at me when I told her my "stair secret" like she was sort of horrified, sort of sad for me and sort of relieved that I had the surgery when I did. Our house is all but perfect - it would have been a shame to have passed on it because of my weight and my inability, at the time, to be open and honest about how it impacted and limited my life.

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