I feel really good today - mentally, that is. Boot camp this morning was all about sprinting (it's cold; they wanted to keep our muscles warm. Mmm hmmm) so physically, I'm all wobbly legged and still haven't lost that heaving feeling, whoa, that heaving feeeeeeling. But! Since today was the last day of the four-week camp, I ventured onto the scale and was greeted with a number eight and a half pounds lower than when I began. This makes me very happy. True, due to some very stubborn saddlebags, I'm still approximately eighty THOUSAND squat jacks away from fitting into jeans I don't hate because of how closely they come to falling into Category: Mom Jeans, but this is the kind of progress I can get behind.
Tomorrow, I aim to ride a bike, a feat I have not attempted in seventeen years. Ooh, and on Sunday, I start hot yoga (ten days for ten dollars! Suckers). If you do not hear from me on Monday, come looking. I will be the one in a dehydrated heap of a pretzel on the classroom floor. Just add water.
In case you're wondering why I'm beingsuch a nut so dedicated about this exercise crap (more than one person has insinuated it's because of my boyfriend), I'm telling you straight: it's not at all about the Boy (who just plain loves me, inclusive of very stubborn saddle bags). It's about clothes. Fall time brings cooler weather and an outdoor wedding in the middle of November brings about a need for an outfit to withstand - and fashionably, at that - the aforementioned weather. And seeing as how I can't afford to buy clothes in Size Fluffy and also make my car payment, I'm trying to whittle down to fit in my pre-existing fall wardrobe. Right now, my full length coat doesn't close around my bum. And I'd sure like it to.
In a final bit o' news, we're expecting the arrival of my niece, Penny, ANY DAY NOW. To hasten delivery, my brother has tried loading his wife up with spicy foods and driving her up into the canyon for some experiments in elevation - all to no avail. I've even tried to coax her out with a cheery game of Red Rover (send Penny right over!) but obviously, good clean fun means nothin' to kids these days because she's still in there. Taunting us.
Tomorrow, I aim to ride a bike, a feat I have not attempted in seventeen years. Ooh, and on Sunday, I start hot yoga (ten days for ten dollars! Suckers). If you do not hear from me on Monday, come looking. I will be the one in a dehydrated heap of a pretzel on the classroom floor. Just add water.
In case you're wondering why I'm being
In a final bit o' news, we're expecting the arrival of my niece, Penny, ANY DAY NOW. To hasten delivery, my brother has tried loading his wife up with spicy foods and driving her up into the canyon for some experiments in elevation - all to no avail. I've even tried to coax her out with a cheery game of Red Rover (send Penny right over!) but obviously, good clean fun means nothin' to kids these days because she's still in there. Taunting us.
Just so you don't think I'm being an ingrate or that I've forgotten, if you haven't already gotten a thank you note, you will soon. I ran out cards. And then out of postage. And some of you are in like, Norway! All of which requires a trip to the dreaded Post Office of Doom. Also, maybe I got a little bit of a hand cramp because you're all so wonderful.
Thank you. Really a whole lot.
Thank you. Really a whole lot.
My first order of business yesterday morning was to kick the waste basket. Hard. It hit the wall with a hollow thud, a sound satisfying enough that I thought about kicking it again, just because. I went for coffee instead. Ordinarily, I'm not much of a tantrum person, preferring to deal with my frustrations in the classic bottle-it-up method that does such wonderful things for my digestive system. But yesterday things had reached a boiling point, and I found myself not at all averse to some waste basket kicking and less than careful door closing. Bathroom door. Bam! Pantry door. Bam! Front door, car door, trunk. Bam times three! When I walked into the ladies' room, I swear I saw the stalls quaked with fear.
The funny thing was, I was only beating the hell out of inanimate objects so I wouldn't cry. To quote my favorite movie ding bat, Cher Horowitz, "I felt impotent and out of control, which I really hate." Surely I'm not the only one whose inability to confront anger results in puddles of tears. What's a girl to do? Get a punching bag? Take up a hobby that involves ripping or breaking things (oooh, maybe decoupage!)?
By late afternoon I figured I'd do humanity a favor and go home early. Take a nap. Take a bath. Eat some dinner and then let my fella take me to a movie. Oh, and watch Glee, which has this freakish way of making anything and everything better. The dancing! The My Fair Lady nod! God, it's just so...me. It's like Sarah says, the calls? They're coming from inside the house.
Incidentally, Where the Wild Things Are was a misstep, if you're doing any movie-going and need some guidance. It's not about your favorite picture book. It's not even really about childhood. It is about divorced parents. The allusion was very strong and made the movie sad - only, not in a good, cathartic way - in an unresolved, upsetting way.
The funny thing was, I was only beating the hell out of inanimate objects so I wouldn't cry. To quote my favorite movie ding bat, Cher Horowitz, "I felt impotent and out of control, which I really hate." Surely I'm not the only one whose inability to confront anger results in puddles of tears. What's a girl to do? Get a punching bag? Take up a hobby that involves ripping or breaking things (oooh, maybe decoupage!)?
By late afternoon I figured I'd do humanity a favor and go home early. Take a nap. Take a bath. Eat some dinner and then let my fella take me to a movie. Oh, and watch Glee, which has this freakish way of making anything and everything better. The dancing! The My Fair Lady nod! God, it's just so...me. It's like Sarah says, the calls? They're coming from inside the house.
Incidentally, Where the Wild Things Are was a misstep, if you're doing any movie-going and need some guidance. It's not about your favorite picture book. It's not even really about childhood. It is about divorced parents. The allusion was very strong and made the movie sad - only, not in a good, cathartic way - in an unresolved, upsetting way.
Who's got two thumbs and lowered her cholesterol by ONE HUNDRED points? This girl right here! Don't you know, I love getting awesome grades on tests (which, funnily enough, I just spelled as 'testes,' giggled and imagined what must be involved in getting an A on testes) and so it has bothered me for two years now that I couldn't manage to ace the cholesterol one my doc gives me every fall. Well, the results came in the mail on Friday and I am a frickin' heart disease champ! Bad cholesterol low. Good cholesterol high. Combined score of 147 for the win! Frankly, I'm more than a little disappointed that I don't get a badge or a gold star or anything. I mean, I gave up things like beer and red meat (eh, mostly) and the yellow parts of eggs. People should know what I went through.
The above is evidence that I would not have done so well at one of those progressive, don't give grades kind of schools. So I crave recognition. It's not like it's meth or anything.
Not all of the news from my doctor was good news, and so on Friday I had to get myself a specialist to administer some uncomfortable and terrifying procedures on my downtheres. Apparently, I chose wisely because not only was Dr. Specialist able to see me first thing this morning, it turns out he's the dude who invented the terrifying and uncomfortable downthere procedures and if you're gonna have just any ole person fiddling with your sensitive bits, it might as well be that guy. And while he delivered very good news within minutes and asked me out for a second date in three months, his expertise and my peace of mind cost me a whopping hundred and eighty bucks (thank you, stupid deductible).
I won't lie, I was pretty nervous about this. I've dodged the bullet once before - precancer that just up! and vanished after a few tests. And as much faith and hope as I wanted to have, I doubted very much that you get more than one Get Out of Jail Free card when it comes to baby making health. But I've landed on Free Parking yet again and now I can go home and really eat up those gorgeous yellow roses the Boy brought home, without a second thought... and maybe with a glass of wine and a big ole hunk of cheese.
Do not tell my cholesterol.
The above is evidence that I would not have done so well at one of those progressive, don't give grades kind of schools. So I crave recognition. It's not like it's meth or anything.
Not all of the news from my doctor was good news, and so on Friday I had to get myself a specialist to administer some uncomfortable and terrifying procedures on my downtheres. Apparently, I chose wisely because not only was Dr. Specialist able to see me first thing this morning, it turns out he's the dude who invented the terrifying and uncomfortable downthere procedures and if you're gonna have just any ole person fiddling with your sensitive bits, it might as well be that guy. And while he delivered very good news within minutes and asked me out for a second date in three months, his expertise and my peace of mind cost me a whopping hundred and eighty bucks (thank you, stupid deductible).
I won't lie, I was pretty nervous about this. I've dodged the bullet once before - precancer that just up! and vanished after a few tests. And as much faith and hope as I wanted to have, I doubted very much that you get more than one Get Out of Jail Free card when it comes to baby making health. But I've landed on Free Parking yet again and now I can go home and really eat up those gorgeous yellow roses the Boy brought home, without a second thought... and maybe with a glass of wine and a big ole hunk of cheese.
Do not tell my cholesterol.
Today was my annual physical. Which meant I got to go see my doctor, get on a scale and have her put it down in writing that I'm significantly more fluffy than I was last year, have the very life blood taken from me and then, well, there were stirrups involved toward the end.
And... all the boys have all closed their browser windows.
I suppose I wouldn't mind any of the above so much if I didn't have to fast. Even the blood drawing is somewhat pleasant because nurses love my veins and always make such a fuss over how easy it is to perform this gruesome task when working with such fantastic subjects. I like to think I had something to do with these big, beautiful veins, so I always say thank you and grow a little bit of an ego. But me on an empty stomach? There's nothing happy about that. It's like... well, remember that time Woody Harrelson was walking through the airport and some paparazzo got in his face and he gave him a knuckle sammich and then in his own defense claimed it was because he thought the paparazzo was a zombie? Yeah, it's like that. I'm willing to bet that Woody was just really hungry. Somebody made him skip breakfast for a cholesterol test and mistakes were made.
During the physical, my very sweet Physician's Assistant got out her stethoscope, prodded around my tummy and then said with smile, "You sound very hungry."
"That was your idea."
No sense in pretending I got up at 5AM and then voluntarily went foodless until 10:30. So long as there are Kardashians starving in LA, I will clean my plate, dammit.
The nicest thing about going to my doctor is the quality listening time. Never once have I felt rushed into getting down to the paper gown part of the event and have always been relieved just to be able to say, "Here are all the things that don't feel right. Can you make them better?" And having a doctor who will write you a prescription for a sleep aid without giving you hassle, well, I guess that's worth a tummy rumble once a year.
And... all the boys have all closed their browser windows.
I suppose I wouldn't mind any of the above so much if I didn't have to fast. Even the blood drawing is somewhat pleasant because nurses love my veins and always make such a fuss over how easy it is to perform this gruesome task when working with such fantastic subjects. I like to think I had something to do with these big, beautiful veins, so I always say thank you and grow a little bit of an ego. But me on an empty stomach? There's nothing happy about that. It's like... well, remember that time Woody Harrelson was walking through the airport and some paparazzo got in his face and he gave him a knuckle sammich and then in his own defense claimed it was because he thought the paparazzo was a zombie? Yeah, it's like that. I'm willing to bet that Woody was just really hungry. Somebody made him skip breakfast for a cholesterol test and mistakes were made.
During the physical, my very sweet Physician's Assistant got out her stethoscope, prodded around my tummy and then said with smile, "You sound very hungry."
"That was your idea."
No sense in pretending I got up at 5AM and then voluntarily went foodless until 10:30. So long as there are Kardashians starving in LA, I will clean my plate, dammit.
The nicest thing about going to my doctor is the quality listening time. Never once have I felt rushed into getting down to the paper gown part of the event and have always been relieved just to be able to say, "Here are all the things that don't feel right. Can you make them better?" And having a doctor who will write you a prescription for a sleep aid without giving you hassle, well, I guess that's worth a tummy rumble once a year.
"You just weren't built for that kind of thing."
As much as I hated to admit it, the Dork Lord was right. I was not built for this kind of thing. We'd worked out in the cold rain that morning, and by late afternoon I was in bed with a chill. Knee socks, heating pad, hot soup and clinging to the down comforter for dear life. Boot camp was going to be the ruin of me. It was only Friday that I took a header during the relay races and tore the ever-loving heck out of my hands. Sure, I fell. But did I get back up and finish every single race with scraped up palms, blood running down my arm and a skinned knee? Oh, yes. Yes, I did. And we won, too. Because I may be sickly and accident prone, but I am a friggin' champ. Also, I really didn't want to look like a quitter in front of those people, most of whom are actual athletes - you know, the kind who come without FRAGILE stamped on their hind ends.
Fra-gee-lay. It must be Italian!
Having not lost a single ounce, I'm not sure what I'm getting out of camp, other than out of bed at god forsaken o'clock in the morning and sore. But it is serving as a good motivator and I have every faith that one day -- one sweet, sweet day -- my jeans will fit again. And all the peasants will cheer.
Speaking of cheer, you guys are really effing fantastic. The in-the-mail thank you notes will come as promised, but I'd feel remiss if I posted today and didn't mention how thankful I am. There aren't enough words. There just aren't.
As much as I hated to admit it, the Dork Lord was right. I was not built for this kind of thing. We'd worked out in the cold rain that morning, and by late afternoon I was in bed with a chill. Knee socks, heating pad, hot soup and clinging to the down comforter for dear life. Boot camp was going to be the ruin of me. It was only Friday that I took a header during the relay races and tore the ever-loving heck out of my hands. Sure, I fell. But did I get back up and finish every single race with scraped up palms, blood running down my arm and a skinned knee? Oh, yes. Yes, I did. And we won, too. Because I may be sickly and accident prone, but I am a friggin' champ. Also, I really didn't want to look like a quitter in front of those people, most of whom are actual athletes - you know, the kind who come without FRAGILE stamped on their hind ends.
Fra-gee-lay. It must be Italian!
Having not lost a single ounce, I'm not sure what I'm getting out of camp, other than out of bed at god forsaken o'clock in the morning and sore. But it is serving as a good motivator and I have every faith that one day -- one sweet, sweet day -- my jeans will fit again. And all the peasants will cheer.
Speaking of cheer, you guys are really effing fantastic. The in-the-mail thank you notes will come as promised, but I'd feel remiss if I posted today and didn't mention how thankful I am. There aren't enough words. There just aren't.
Will you and the Dork Lord/Christopher be settling down in Texas? -Do you guys have any plans for your 1yr anniversary coming up? Thank you! - Kehinde
Are you obsessed with Mad Men? If yes, which character? - BookMoth
I know this one could be a touchy one so I totally understand if you don't post it. How is your dad doing? And how is your relationship? - Carrie
Have you ever been to Italy? - Sarah
Mike or Dexter? - Sarah Brown
Hi Fish, Do you have any cute, single, man friends left in the Boston area? And for my non-self centered question...What was your nephew's first word? - Different Melissa
What's your favorite part of the day? What's your favorite girly girl memory? How many cookies do you think you could polish off if you had a good friend and a really big glass of milk? What traveling is there on the immediate to-do list? - Melissa
These are not nearly as profound, but here goes: 1. How long did it take you before you could complete the 30-day shred workout without wanting to throw up? and, 2. Are you still running? These are just questions because I need - NEED!! - to get motivated, and if I know that there is a light at the end of the workout tunnel, I might be less inclined to sit by the track with my eyes closed..... :) - Lawyerchik
What is your favorite concert? - MissusB
What kind of work are you doing now? - Molly
Just in case you don't want to answer my other question, how long exactly have you and Dork Lord been dating? - Danielle
I'm a very long time reader and am really curious if you ever talk to J or have you in the last few years? If not, do you think he reads your blog? - Danielle
So you live in Texas, you lived in New York and (I think) you lived in Boston for awhile. People from any of those three places usually have a recognizable accent. My mother-in-law has a serious Boston accent going on even though she left Boston 40 years ago. So what (if any) accent do you have? - Misses M
How are you adjusting to the pooch these days? Do he and kitty get along? Can we ever see a picture of Dork Lord?? - Deeana
Whenever you do a Q&A I always want to ask about Ben & The Intern. I know you won't answer, so: What do you miss about NY, if anything? - Heidi
I'm sure you get asked this a lot, but how did you get into blogging? I am a recent college grad., and I'd love to eventually do something like you're doing, but I have no idea where to start. and a fun one: If you could have a lifetime supply of any food (regardless of cost or calories) what would it be? - Katy
A long time ago you blogged about your gyno lecturing you on waxing. I have always wondered why? I can't figure out what's wrong with it! - Alexa
How long do you see yourself continuing to blog for? do you ever see yourself NOT blogging, in some capacity at least? -someone once asked me this: "assuming that you write an anonymous or partially anonymous blog, by what non-physically identifying characteristics might you be identified in a bar?" -do you follow a lot of blogs? who are your favorites right now? - Brooke M
What are you and the dork lord going to be for halloween this year? - Betsy
What name did Dork Lord's parents bestow upon him at birth? If you're taking guesses, I guess Jason or Michael. - Barbara E.
My morning coffee guy is talented at making me a good cup of dark roast every morning and I regularly tip him for a job well done. I've been following you for a couple years now. I think you are a talented writer and I enjoy your work. Any way grateful readers like me could tip YOU for a job well done? Ever thought of putting a tip jar on your site? - Doug
I do believe we will. Although, he's in school for the next few years here in Dallas, we've got pipe dreams of ending up in Austin when he's done. Oh, 2013. How I long for ya. As far as the anniversary, we opt for the day in early November on which we became super glued to each other, as opposed to the day we met. And on that day this year, we will be in Austin (funny enough) celebrating the wedding of some friends. Nice, right?
Are you obsessed with Mad Men? If yes, which character? - BookMoth
Please don't let this change your opinion of me (assuming that right now it is a positive opinion. If it's not, well then, proceed with the changing), but I have never seen a single episode. However, that dude in the suit? Don Draper, I think? Holy drool all over my pillow at night. The only thing hotter than him is the redhead I always see on the red carpet. She's a total knockout. I'd consider quitting boys.
I know this one could be a touchy one so I totally understand if you don't post it. How is your dad doing? And how is your relationship? - Carrie
Hrm. Well. He called me on my birthday, which was a first in like, oh, four or five years. We've maybe talked twice since. I feel very conflicted about him. When I was a kid, you could not ask for someone more perfect at fathering. Which is why now, after one disappointment after the other, I have a hard time reconciling which one of the two is my dad - the memory or the current specter.
Have you ever been to Italy? - Sarah
Yes! Two years ago, I put on a backpack and headed across the ocean. London, Scotland, Barcelona and... several stops in Italy. You can read about it here and here, or in the travel blog I kept for ISE Cards.
Mike or Dexter? - Sarah Brown
Zing! That's the toughest one yet. However, upon deep consideration, I have decided that Mike was too melancholy. Hello, Dexter.
Hi Fish, Do you have any cute, single, man friends left in the Boston area? And for my non-self centered question...What was your nephew's first word? - Different Melissa
Hmm, actually, I think all the fellas (cute or otherwise) I hung out with in Boston are married. Let's appeal to the audience, shall we? And though I'm not sure if he's repeated it since, I've been told Owen's first word was, "cookie." That's how we know he's one of us.
What's your favorite part of the day? What's your favorite girly girl memory? How many cookies do you think you could polish off if you had a good friend and a really big glass of milk? What traveling is there on the immediate to-do list? - Melissa
Whoa! Way. Too. Many. Questions. I feel like I need multiple choice to tackle this! Let's take the travel one. Aside from our Disney World family adventure in TWO MONTHS FROM RIGHT NOW (eeee!), we will be traveling to Austin in November and Utah in March. Both for weddings. Another little sister is gettin' hitched.
These are not nearly as profound, but here goes: 1. How long did it take you before you could complete the 30-day shred workout without wanting to throw up? and, 2. Are you still running? These are just questions because I need - NEED!! - to get motivated, and if I know that there is a light at the end of the workout tunnel, I might be less inclined to sit by the track with my eyes closed..... :) - Lawyerchik
1. A week and then I went to Level Two. GOD. 2. No, but I intend to work back up to it. When I moved in with the Dork Lord, I lost my early morning running buddy. Haven't found my groove since!
What is your favorite concert? - MissusB
Turns out, I'm not much of a live music person (I can take it or leave it). But the Indigo Girls concert experience is one I'd repeat.
What kind of work are you doing now? - Molly
Marketing & Business Development for the A/E/C industry. Try not to be blinded by the glamor.
Just in case you don't want to answer my other question, how long exactly have you and Dork Lord been dating? - Danielle
One year this month.
I'm a very long time reader and am really curious if you ever talk to J or have you in the last few years? If not, do you think he reads your blog? - Danielle
Yes, we keep up over Facebook. I think occasionally he reads the blog but I doubt it's with any regularity. My own boyfriend doesn't read it!
So you live in Texas, you lived in New York and (I think) you lived in Boston for awhile. People from any of those three places usually have a recognizable accent. My mother-in-law has a serious Boston accent going on even though she left Boston 40 years ago. So what (if any) accent do you have? - Misses M
None, so far as I know. I haven't been anywhere long enough for any one accent to take!
How are you adjusting to the pooch these days? Do he and kitty get along? Can we ever see a picture of Dork Lord?? - Deeana
We're thick as thieves. Mostly because I'm the resident sucker and he knows he can flash his muppet face and get anything he wants. I do love him. He and the cat get along just fine. And, no, probably not (unless you've been very clever and found it elsewhere). I don't think he'd dig that at all.
Whenever you do a Q&A I always want to ask about Ben & The Intern. I know you won't answer, so: What do you miss about NY, if anything? - Heidi
Le sigh. What more is there to know about that? Every time it comes up, I post the same link to the same story and let folks glean what they will. So, we'll just move on... I miss my friends, sometimes to the point it gives me a stomach ache. And I miss the food, and having things to do ALL the time. Other than that, New York can suck it.
I'm sure you get asked this a lot, but how did you get into blogging? I am a recent college grad., and I'd love to eventually do something like you're doing, but I have no idea where to start. and a fun one: If you could have a lifetime supply of any food (regardless of cost or calories) what would it be? - Katy
I went to blogger.com and started a blog. It was that simple. Just put it out there. If you write it, they will come. Oh, and Ben & Jerry's Chubby Hubby.
A long time ago you blogged about your gyno lecturing you on waxing. I have always wondered why? I can't figure out what's wrong with it! - Alexa
Apparently it has something to do with prevention of disease and infection. But the, she was sort of an angry lady, too, so take that into consideration.
How long do you see yourself continuing to blog for? do you ever see yourself NOT blogging, in some capacity at least? -someone once asked me this: "assuming that you write an anonymous or partially anonymous blog, by what non-physically identifying characteristics might you be identified in a bar?" -do you follow a lot of blogs? who are your favorites right now? - Brooke M
I will probably always blog in some capacity - I think it's such a great way of recording my personal history, easy reference remembering! And, um, I'm not anonymous at ALL, since there's my name and picture up there. But, I snort when I laugh. That's hard to miss.
What are you and the dork lord going to be for halloween this year? - Betsy
We actually talked about this last night (as we will be attending a party) and came to zero conclusions. I kind of don't really LIKE the fuss of costumes. I know. I ruin everything.
What name did Dork Lord's parents bestow upon him at birth? If you're taking guesses, I guess Jason or Michael. - Barbara E.
Christopher. LG, whoever they are, is clearly in the know, and thus, a cheater and a spoiler and will be taken to the stocks later.
My morning coffee guy is talented at making me a good cup of dark roast every morning and I regularly tip him for a job well done. I've been following you for a couple years now. I think you are a talented writer and I enjoy your work. Any way grateful readers like me could tip YOU for a job well done? Ever thought of putting a tip jar on your site? - Doug
Oh, Doug. You just gave me some warm fuzzies. I have an ancient PayPal account, which I think still works for that sort of thing. And, if you pass along your address, you'll get a handwritten thank you note.
P.S. Oh my goodness, you guys. I just got an email from PayPal and I started crying. You're unbelievably generous. Thank you.
Today I'm off to volunteer at a golf tournament for work. I know. So many things about that sentence seem... off. But there you have it. Anyway, since so many fun and interesting things come from it, let's open up the comments to question. You ask, I'll answer in the next post.
Ready? Go!
Oh, and comments are moderated, which means they get scanned for swears and stuff before they're posted. So, don't worry if you don't see your question for a while.
Besos!
Ready? Go!
Oh, and comments are moderated, which means they get scanned for swears and stuff before they're posted. So, don't worry if you don't see your question for a while.
Besos!
We're going to the Ranch this weekend for some R&R (and maybe a little poker) and I can't help feeling like this little trip is in everyone's best interest. And I do mean everyone. The people I drive on the freeway next to (I think I sprained my middle finger yesterday giving someone a very well deserved and enthusiastic bird), my coworkers, my sweet boyfriend. Every one. Even you. Surely it has not required much reading between the lines to get the vibe that I'm frazzled and anxious lately. I know that talking about these sorts of things helps, so I've tried to run my yapper as much as possible. But I'm not really sleeping. So a trip to the doc is also on the menu. But I'm reserving a tiny bit of hope that maybe some good old fashioned not doing jack shit will help me uncurl my toes, if just for a day or two.
When I was a kid, money was tight. It wasn't tight in the way it's tight for me now, where my bi-weekly cushion of $38 makes spontaneous purchases a rare and stomach knotting experience. I'm pretty sure back then, there wasn't such thing as a cushion. I remember seeing my mom cry when I grew out of my school shoes. I also remember what she was like then. Tight lipped and tense. That's not the version of me I want to be. But yet, as the Dork Lord and I have discussion after discussion about money, and salaries are getting cut (thanks, economy!), and it seems that no matter how hard I try, catching a break is simply not in the cards for me, I've been playing that version of myself and worse.
It isn't that I want things and not being able to have them makes me pouty. I don't want things. I want to be out of debt. Realizing that I may never get there, and how much of that is my fault, well, spending money at all has become very, very hard for me. Going to the grocery store gives me anxiety. And I try so hard to hide it. I do. Because I know the Boy senses it and that in turn, it stresses him out to know I'm upset.
I suspect that the recession has made a lot of people feel this way - strung out and desperate. I also suspect (with a side order of hoping) that it will pass. May it pass soon. Because there's a version of me that laughs loud and means it. And I kind of miss her.
When I was a kid, money was tight. It wasn't tight in the way it's tight for me now, where my bi-weekly cushion of $38 makes spontaneous purchases a rare and stomach knotting experience. I'm pretty sure back then, there wasn't such thing as a cushion. I remember seeing my mom cry when I grew out of my school shoes. I also remember what she was like then. Tight lipped and tense. That's not the version of me I want to be. But yet, as the Dork Lord and I have discussion after discussion about money, and salaries are getting cut (thanks, economy!), and it seems that no matter how hard I try, catching a break is simply not in the cards for me, I've been playing that version of myself and worse.
It isn't that I want things and not being able to have them makes me pouty. I don't want things. I want to be out of debt. Realizing that I may never get there, and how much of that is my fault, well, spending money at all has become very, very hard for me. Going to the grocery store gives me anxiety. And I try so hard to hide it. I do. Because I know the Boy senses it and that in turn, it stresses him out to know I'm upset.
I suspect that the recession has made a lot of people feel this way - strung out and desperate. I also suspect (with a side order of hoping) that it will pass. May it pass soon. Because there's a version of me that laughs loud and means it. And I kind of miss her.
Okay, so I really kind of hate one of the trainers at boot camp. There, I said it. Maybe it's the condescending way she talks, or the looks she gives me when it turns out I can't SPRINT 400 METERS on my second day, but hoo boy, I do not like her one bit. I signed up for this class for me. Because I want to get better at things like push ups and sprinting some distance (though, seriously? Four hundred meters? I'll jog, thanks). But I'm pretty good about knowing my limits. So yelling at me to finish an exercise that has made it virtually impossible to use the toilet for the last two days, well, that's not going to get you anywhere but in the Do Not Like section of my slam book. We are not going to be besties. Ever.
The rest of the trainers are all very nice and don't seem to mind that I'm not going to be a serious contender while I'm carrying around an extra thirty pounds of body weight. I think maybe they're just glad I save the over-exertion vomiting for the privacy of my own comode.
Did I mention I can't use the toilet? Too true. I can't get down or up. And let me tell you, to complete any sort of business in there, you gotta have the down and up! Confession: Last night, I had to pee really, really bad, but the idea of the down and up became so unbearable that I... took a shower instead. That's right. I George Costanza-ed. And you know what? I'm okay with that.
The rest of the trainers are all very nice and don't seem to mind that I'm not going to be a serious contender while I'm carrying around an extra thirty pounds of body weight. I think maybe they're just glad I save the over-exertion vomiting for the privacy of my own comode.
Did I mention I can't use the toilet? Too true. I can't get down or up. And let me tell you, to complete any sort of business in there, you gotta have the down and up! Confession: Last night, I had to pee really, really bad, but the idea of the down and up became so unbearable that I... took a shower instead. That's right. I George Costanza-ed. And you know what? I'm okay with that.
