I made it back to the gym yesterday. I had all kinds of good intentions when I got there, but everything came undone. My ipod was dead so I had no real entertainment. I was texting someone for a little bit, but they had to go. I stopped the treadmill after 30 minutes and was going to move on to the bike, but I got all pass outty. I didn't eat before I went. I felt super weak. I left.
I went to the grocery store on the way home and got healthy food. Then I went home and made a giant salad. I took about 5 bites and couldn't eat anymore. I set it aside and did other stuff and came back to it. I had to force feed myself, basically, and still didn't eat it all. I made up two big tacos for dinner and could barely eat one. I threw the other one away. I felt gross.
This eating thing is not because of the boy. This eating thing started before that took a turn. I was skipping meals most of the summer. He actually would give me shit for it. This eating thing has been going on for a couple months now. I just, on most days, look at food like a complete inconvenience. I'm put out by having to eat. I don't know if that's good or bad. I sit in front of a plate of food and am annoyed by it, disgusted by it, repulsed by the fact that it has consumed so much of my life. I eat only because I know I have to, not because I want to. It's kind of scary for me. Every once in a while I find that I am ravenously hungry...I still don't want to eat. If I do, I'm usually only a few bites in before I want to throw it all away.
Is this what skinny people are like? Is this the relationship a person is supposed to have with food? Put out by having to eat and doing it only because they have to? Stopping after just a few bites because they just can't bring themselves to eat anymore? I hardly think so. I think I've gone from one extreme to another. At least this will get me closer to a goal of some kind...or kill me.
I am a firm believer that duct tape will fix most anything. I am in need of desperate repairs. I seem to have acquired a broken heart and need to wrap it up tight in a large amount of duct tape. I told that stupid boy, the stupid boy that I somehow managed to fall in love with through all of this, that if he can't respect me or bring a fraction of what I do to the table to PLEASE leave me alone. I told that stupid boy that I would not call him or text him again. That if I hear from him it will be because he wants me in his life. I told him I wasn't putting a time frame on when this decision had to be made, but I wasn't going to keep working so hard for something his actions suggest that he doesn't want regardless of what his words are saying. This was not my smartest move. I thought I was being bold and standing up for myself again. What I have instead done is put myself back in the land of limbo. What I have done is allowed myself to sit here wondering if he will call, hoping he will call, all the while knowing that he probably won't. Am dumb, am sad, am a hopeless romantic.
I've hardly been eating for the last month. Skipping meals has taken on a whole new meaning. Some days all I'll have had by the time dinner rolls around is an apple and maybe a protein bar. When I eat dinner I eat very little before I just can't bring myself to take another bite. I probably only sit down to the table to attempt it so that mom doesn't go bat shit crazy over how I'm not eating, talking, living. The fucked up part of that is that I'm not losing weight. Well, not as much as you would expect after a month of this. I got on mom's scale this morning and am officially under 350, but I don't know how that compares to the scale I was using at the gym before classes started. Ah, ya caught me, still haven't been to the gym since the last you heard. This term is kicking my ass in ways only Oscar De La Hoya can comprehend. There are only four weeks left to it and then I believe I have three weeks off for the holidays. Next term I will only have to go to campus on Mondays and Tuesdays and then will have a couple online classes as well. This should help my ability to get to the gym. I hope.
I have not given up. I've steered clear of a lot of the fast food my schedule would normally have me partaking in and I've even omitted a lot of ice cream from my life. Afterall, I used to eat Ben & Jerry's with that stupid boy at his house. So, about that duct tape?
I'm struggling. Big time. I'm hardly sleeping, hardly eating, hardly keeping my head above water. I'm sad. I'm lonely. I'm stressed. I'm...drowning.
School is fucking insane. I haven't weighed since the gain of a couple weeks ago. Insertnamehere and I haven't seen each other in two weeks and it's likely not going to change anytime soon. Sadly, that's not so much my fault as it is his. He's just as busy as I am and, well, I'm/we/this is on the back burner for a while so that he can sort some things out. I miss him. I miss the escape that spending time with him provided. I miss how he calms me and right now, I need a lot of calming. I'm on edge. I'm going to snap. I'm scheduling a breakdown for about 1:30 this afternoon. Should be fun.
On that note, back to homework. It's all I do these days. All day, and often all night. All week and all weekend. Mama needs a break, but not for another 8 weeks. FML.
Didn't weigh in this week. Haven't been to the gym this week. Not especially proud of how I've eaten this week. Wednesday night I only got 2.5 hours of sleep because I was up all night doing homework. Thursday night wasn't much better. This weekend will be more of the same.
Before you judge me, take a second to ponder how it might feel for me to punch you in the neck for doing so. Carry on.
She took her sweet time getting here, but (sorry boys) the playground is flooded. It started raining just before I went to Insertnamehere's house yesterday. By the time I got there I had some fairly annoying cramps, but they weren't that bad. I asked him for some of his ibuprofen, but he was out. Lovely. A couple hours later all hell broke loose on my insides. Kids were using my uterus as a trampoline. Little girls with pigtails were using my fallopian tubes for double dutch. My ovaries had clearly fallen prey to a rousing game of dodgeball.
I was sitting next to Insertnamehere on the couch. I was trying to do homework, but couldn't concentrate. I had to keep leaning forward to put pressure of some kind on my baby maker. He asked if I wanted him to go to the store. I said, "No, no, it'll pass." A few minutes later, "Are you sure?" I let out a groan, "No, no, I'm alright." An hour later I'd had enough, "So, yeah, that ibuprofen is sounding better by the minute." He jumped up and was on the road within seconds. He came home with ibuprofen, creamer for my coffee in the morning, and Ben & Jerry's which he expeditiously dished up as I laid on my stomach on the hardwood floor so that I could use my extraordinary amount of weight to push all my bits into the ground. He came out to the living room with ice cream in hand and I laid on the floor waiting for the drugs to kick in, wishing someone would punch me in the uterus to get it to relax, trying to enjoy my ice cream. I'd like to say it was heaven, but not so much. They hit me like a mack truck, but thanks to my hero, they eventually subsided and I was able to partake in some serious cuddling.
Why am I writing about this? Because tomorrow is weigh in day again and I'm hoping to hell that her terribly timed appearance and the agony of last night will some how pay off for me in the morning. School threw off my eating on a couple days and most certainly threw off my workouts this week and I could really use something great on the scale tomorrow. Something to help me push forward and continue to put in the work with everything I have on my plate right now. So, I'm paying my penance this weekend and hoping that tomorrow is the big reward. I'm off to get some more ibuprofen. Good Jesus.
I loved Schoolhouse Rock when I was little. Hell, I love it now. Lolly, Lolly, Lolly, Get Your Adverbs Here, Conjunction Junction, I'm Just A Bill, Interjections! Those were the good ol' days. Well, I'm grown now and I have a few new Interjections! Shit, fuck, and damn! These are Interjections! Well, not and, and is a conjunction, uh, junction. That's it's function.
I haven't been to the gym since Monday (and we all know how that went). Can't blame it on the playground because it's still status quo (though the signs are still present that flooding is eminent). It's school and lack of sleep. It's me getting used to my new schedule. It's me being a tool. In my defense, though, this is the list of things I have to do this weekend for school:
Figure out which horror movie I'm going to depict in a full page ad and draw 40 thumbnail sketches of said ad. Also, find 3 current movie ads in magazines.
Read Chapters 1-3 of From Design Into Print and prepare for quiz that will be on Tuesday
Read pages 1-32 of Making and Breaking the Grid and figure out which badly designed magazine I want to redesign and which well designed magazine I want to model it after.
Design an invoice and a timesheet that I will use for the African Film Festival non-profit project we've been assigned and do 30 thumbnails for said poster. Also, watch at least one movie from the African Film Festival collection and write a reaction to it as well as other various research.
Develop an 11 x 17 vision board of things that I find inspiring as it pertains to my own identity/brand/career and do 20 business card ideas for myself.
Good times, kids. School is most definitely back in session. For those that thought the first week of school couldn't possibly be that big of a deal? It's a very big deal. Let me get acclimated again and then we can talk about Gym.
The Good: This morning I walked into the gym and the boy behind the counter that is usually there on weekdays gave me a head nod and said, "It's ok." I said, "It's ok?" He said, "Yeah, you're good." What does this conversation mean? He didn't need to scan my membership card. He recognized me. Still not sure why this is good? It means I've been there so much in the last two weeks that I'm "one of them." I'm...a regular. I smiled, put my card back in my wallet and made my way to the women's workout area.
The Bad: I jinxed myself yesterday with my jibber jabber about how smoothly my workouts have been going. Firstly, I woke up with a little bit of a headache and no desire to go. I wanted to weigh in so I got up and slowly made my way there. Two minutes into the treadmill and shin splints were in affect. Some people debate whether or not what I have going on are shin splints because it isn't actually my shins, it's the outer part of my lower leg living somewhere between my shins and calves. It's both legs. It burns like the fires of hell and if I push it too far I can't even tell if I'm lifting my feet properly because the muscles are so tight. Sometimes if I stop until they relax then I can get back to it and go for quite a while. Sometimes not. I made it eight minutes and moved to the recumbent bike. I set it for 22 minutes to try to get in at least 30 minutes of cardio. I quit at 10. It took me longer to drive there then to actually workout. Lame.
The Ugly: After my sorry excuse for a workout, I got on the scale. Tally, ho? Up 3.5. 359.6. I wanted to kick puppies. I wanted to throw dumb bells kittens. I walked out and drove home. Here is the only thing that kept me from crying; TOM is in a day or two (in theory). I feel a little bloaty and various other treats Aunt flo brings when she visits. To all the fellaz readin' this and rolling their eyes at another period reference...bite me. Until your playground floods and kids start playing kickball with your naughty bits, you can't really pass judgement. So, I'm hoping that explains it, because I don't feel I screwed up enough to warrant a gain like that. I busted ass this week!
Alex: shin splints, plantar fasciitis, lower back pain, bad knees, lack of energy, and sometimes, TOM.
Me: What are reasons fat girls give to get out of a workout? I'll take Fat Girl Ailments for $1000, Alex.
Alex: diabetes, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and infertility to name a few.
Me: What are reasons a fat girl should give a damn?
I have somehow found my groove at the gym this go round. All of the things that ail me and cause me to quit have not been bothering me TOO much. I can really only attribute this to less time on the treadmill. To getting my cardio minutes in on 3 different machines instead of just one. World o' difference. It's just so hard on a good day to be there doing the things I need to do, but when everything I do is riddled with some sort of pain it's only natural that I'm going to eventually get tired of it and quit. I've gone to the gym 5 days a week for two weeks now. Today was a day off, but tomorrow I will be there bright and early for my workout and my weigh in.
Girl's night was ok. I ended up having one drink so I didn't pick up the ice cream I was planning to take over to Insertnamehere's. He and I did surprisingly well considering he had just met with his soon to be ex wife and was super cranky when he called. I like that I can provide some sort of calming effect. I like that he smiles when he sees me even after a crappy day. I like that when we hang out all of the outside crap seems less important, even if only for a few hours. We both need that right now.
Tomorrow school starts back up. Eff me. There are three things that I have to somehow manage to keep as priorities along with school. My weight loss (natch), the freelance graphic design business I've started with a classmate, and Insertnamehere. How in the hell I'm going to swing it all is not entirely clear, but I've been trying to devise plans. My classmate and I are going to meet on campus before classes a few times a week to stay on track with the business. Insertnamehere and I are going to get through the next couple of insane weeks and then sit down and figure out at least one day that we know we're going to see each other every week and plan for it. If other days can happen, all the better, but at least we'll have one day a week that is dedicated to this friendship. What I eat on Tuesdays and Thursdays might be a crap shoot, but my classes shouldn't get in the way of the other days. I am planning to try to hit the gym on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at least and do Wii fitness games on the other days. That will be subject to change as I see what my schedule brings. Pray for me!
So Gym and I were knockin' boots again today and the workout was kinda blah. 10 on treadmill, 15 on recumbent, and then I opted to start lifting weights again. Did a lot of leg work and as I was abducting my hips I realized that there was only one other person working out in the women's area with me. Suddenly the most foolish of notions came over me. Mayhaps a fat girl should run.
I got on a treadmill that wasn't easily seen from where this other person was and started cranking it up. I started running...ok, ok, ok...jogging. The treadmill strained beneath me, but I was doing it anyway. I got up to a minute and thought I'd push it to two. Then I heard other voices and realized the lunch time rush was starting. I stopped it at a minute twenty. I stepped off completely and utterly out of breath and then it hit me; I am most certainly not made for speed. I also couldn't help but wonder just how long I would have been able to push it if my fear of being seen hadn't kicked in. No one wants to watch a fat girl break a treadmill. Well, some do, but they are just mean.
Tonight the girls are congregating for food and gossip. They haven't seen me in a while and I'm likely going to be grilled on Insertnamehere. Who, by the way, I hope to see after dinner because I haven't seen him in days and it makes me cranky(ish). I think we're going to hold hands and watch Shrek again since we never finished it the last time I was there. Love that for some odd reason. Probably because I'm bringing ice cream to eat while we watch it, too, but don't judge me. At least I'm not going to drink any alcohol tonight and will bring my water bottle. I don't really know what the food will be, but I'm bringing blue corn tortilla chips and some black bean salsa that isn't too bad for you. Let the good times (and the fat girls) roll.
We've been spending more time together, trying to mend the things that came between us so long ago. Today, though, we had some mind blowing, sweaty, dirty, make up sex. Gym and I, are back together!
Tuesday's workout sucked. I got on the treadmill for my 10 minute warmup and within just a couple minutes my shin splints (or whatever they are) started to hurt. They are the whole reason that I've been keeping it at 10 minutes and then moving on, it's just too painful. I pressed on through the 10 minutes and went to the recumbent bike. I set it for 30 minutes and pussed out after 15. My thighs were tired and my hips ached. I went to the elliptical. The timer wouldn't work. It is at this point that I said effit and jumped off and walked out. I decided that Wednesday would be a day of rest. I paid attention to my body and this is what it told me.
Today I had to make up for it. I got on the treadmill. 10 minutes came and went. Nothing hurt. Same speed and nothing hurt. I pushed it to 20. I rock. I did the treadmill for 30 minutes and probably could have gone longer. I went to the recumbent bike. 20 minutes. I went to the elliptical. 10 minutes. I did 60 minutes of cardio and felt...great! Nothing hurt. I was a sweaty mess, but I wasn't in pain. If only all my workouts could be like that.
I listened to my body and I adjusted. I took the day off yesterday and went to Whole Foods instead to stock up on yummy, healthy goodness. I ate a healthy breakfast before I went and it made all the difference. I'm making good decisions and starting to feel empowered again. I start school on Monday, that is when it will be the hardest. I have to get the two to play well together and so far, I haven't been very good at that. Will. Find. Way. In the meantime, I'll just keep being a dirty girl with Gym.
I have always been very proud of my Dutch heritage. I grew up living only a couple miles away from my Dutch grandparents and spent a lot of time immersed in traditions I didn't even realize were because of my heritage until I was older. Tea time at 10 am and 3 pm, black licorice (still don't like it), birthday calendars, dinner for lunch and lunch for dinner, and the list goes on. One thing I did learn about the Dutch as I got older was what a bike friendly bunch of crazies we are. I am a disgrace to my heritage.
I haven't had a bike since I was probably in jr. high. When you're fat, you don't want to ride up the street on a bike having the people coming up behind you wondering where the seat went. When your fat, you can't pedal your fat ass up the street period. I can remember riding my bike with my brother all over our yard AND the neighbors yard or all over the campground when we went camping. And then it stopped.
So, I texted Insertnamehere last night and asked him if I could go on a pedal with him once I lost a bunch of weight. He rides his bike all over the place. He said he'd be looking forward to it and could he help me pick out my bike. I obviously agreed since I know nothing about bikes. Later that night we were talking on Facebook and he linked me to a bike. He already picked it out for me. The Electra Townie Balloon 3i. All I had to do was choose the color. Easy. Orange. It is the color of our people (he is Dutch, too, doncha know).
So, today I found a picture of my tangerine dream and it is the photo on my computer's desktop so that I see it all the time. They are spendy mofos so it will be a significant reward for reaching one of my goals. I just don't know what that goal should be yet. I don't know what level of fat this bike is approved for. It's got nice fat tires and a decent size seat. It will likely be more about when I'd feel comfortable riding it than what weight it could hold. Two vastly different numbers. It was nice having him support me. Later he asked how he could help. I told him to just ask me if I've been going to the gym and eating right and don't judge me. Tonight we talked about the ice cream we eat together and I said we're going to have to reserve the B&J for special occasions and get healthier stuff most of the time. He was all for it. He supports me because he knows my size matters to ME, not because my size matters to him. It makes all the difference.
So, when I get to 275 or lose 100 or something of that nature, I will be embracing my Dutch heritage and hopefully pedaling my less fat ass down the streets of Portland with a particular Dutch boy because, after all, you ain't much if you ain't Dutch.
I sat my grandpa (mom's dad, where I get all of my smart ass ways and half of my Dutch heritage) down at the table. He was walking with crutches at this point because his balance was failing and he was having a lot of trouble walking. It was Thanksgiving and I somehow made it to the big table with the grownups. I guess enough of the family was missing that a spot opened up. I got him settled, helped him dish up, and got him everything he needed. As I reached over and fixed his suspenders that had gotten twisted he said, "Kelly, you're going to make some man very happy one day." I loved my grandpa dearly and valued his opinion greatly. He wasn't a man of many words, so when he spoke it resonated (often times because it was full of snark and old men with Dutch accents and all that sass are comedy). My smile had barely had time to form before it was wiped away. My dad was sitting on the other side of him and he said, "Who? Her?" It was his tone. It was his look. It was almost like disgust. It was him saying, "Please. She's never going to get a man. Who would be interested in a girl that big?" I knew he felt that way. He would always talk about some guy he'd come across that would be perfect for my sister, but he never suggested anyone for me because no one would want me, naturally. This was the first time he came out and actually said something that proved my suspicions. I was a teenager. I've never forgotten it.
My dad made me run up and down the stairs at the house until he said stop and sometimes run around in circles around the boat in the shop. He didn't care that I couldn't breathe. He didn't care that running around a boat in a fairly tight circle can make you dizzy. I was fat and it needed to change. So was he, but that apparently didn't need to change because instead of changing the way the family ate, he singled me out and embarrassed me often. During some of my dad's pep talks I was told that I was a worthless piece of shit and that I'd never amount to anything. I was a teenager. I've never forgotten it.
I've had artistic talent since I was little. I used to draw all the time. Every time I brought something to my dad he picked it apart. No compliments, just put downs. This could be better, the proportion is off on this, the shading is wrong on that. Because of this, I've never thought I was good enough. It never mattered that everyone else loved it and envied the talent. Because of this I stopped drawing. Because of this I threw away everything I had ever drawn. The only things I've kept (aside from things I've drawn recently for school) are two drawings that he couldn't find anything wrong with. Two drawings that must have been good enough. I hate that I let him take that away from me. I hate that I don't have confidence in my ability. I hate that because I stopped drawing I can't draw from my head anymore and have to see a picture of something to be able to draw it. I buy sketchbooks all the time because I love them. I open them and stare at the perfect white paper and ache for that girl to come back. The one that drew because she loved it and wasn't anxious because she wasn't good enough. I probably have about a dozen sketchbooks; they are all empty. I've been told that my dad brags about me to other people about my talent or my grades or the like. The only thing he's ever truly shown support in was my writing. He's always told me I should write a book. Beyond that, nothing I've done has ever been good enough as far as I can tell.
There are statistics out there that give numbers on how many compliments it takes to undo one single put down...especially when that put down comes from a parent or loved one. I wholeheartedly support this statistic, whatever it may be. It's been instilled in me since an early age that nothing I do will ever be good enough. I once wrote a letter to my brother that said something to the extent of, "You turned our childhood into anger, I turned our childhood into 350+ pounds." This was the first time I placed blame for my weight on anyone but me. I had always rejected the theory that "our parents are to blame" because I was now an adult and I should be able to change. I am an adult, but there are issues I've left unaddressed my entire life because I am a peacekeeper. I don't like ripples and I like to let bad things sink as quickly as possible. I've avoided addressing very many of the issues with my father in this blog because people I know, people that know my dad, read this. This blog is supposed to be honest. It's supposed to be about my weight and the things that positively or negatively affect my ability to lose it. My dad is a large part of this battle for me and I'm no longer choosing to sweep it under the rug. Until I can afford therapy (which I am now looking into), this is the only outlet I have.
For now I am choosing not to let my dad know that I'm trying to get focused on losing this weight again. I haven't told my parents that I rejoined the gym. I haven't made any comments on meals that have been made. I just stay in my room. I've lived back here for almost 2 years now and anytime I try to get focused again he has plenty of things to say about it. He points out everything that I shouldn't eat all while eating it himself. He complains if he cooks something and I don't want to eat it all while telling me that I need to lose weight. This makes me want to eat. This makes me want to binge. I become a little girl again and the only way that I can get back at my father is to do the one thing that bothers him most...get fatter.
Some therapist is going to have a field day with me. More to come.
I was at Insertnamehere's house this morning (more on that later). I was dressed for the gym. I didn't want to go to the gym. But, I had to go because I needed the scale. Today is weigh in day. This guy suggested that I start with 10 minutes, see how I feel, and if it wasn't good, I could stop. We had an accord. I went in with an open mind. I planned to get on the scale before and after my workout to see what the difference was (ended up being a pound worth of difference). I did the treadmill for 10 minutes. I did the recumbent bike for 20 minutes. I did the elliptical for 10 minutes. Mama's legs were weak. I carefully made my way back to the scale. And what's the tally, Ho? I lost 4.5 pounds. 356.1. Down 9.9 pounds. Word.
Insertnamehere and I finally talked yesterday. First on the phone, then at his house. A lot was said, mostly by me. I broke out some good stuff. Like a grown up even. Things fresh out of some movie, I'm sure, like, "I'm not trying to save you. I'm trying to be your friend and help you save yourself." When the conversation seemed to be winding down he said he wanted to ask me something. I was nervous. I thought he was going to ask for his key back. He said, "Can we just go hold hands and watch Shrek now?" I smiled, told him that he sucked, and he agreed. Backstory: about a month ago when we were talking on the phone he told me that he and his 2.5 year old daughter were holding hands and watching Shrek. I told him that sounded awesome and I wanted to. He said we would, but hadn't yet. Now we have. Before we actually started watching the movie I hugged him and whispered, "Can we just go back to how it was before, Papi?" He said he would like that. Then I asked him to please talk to me when he started freaking out again so that we didn't end up here again. He agreed. We shall see. Boys are still stupid.
On another note, I find it slightly creepy that just a few days ago I had two posts that referenced Dirty Dancing and Patrick Swayze and today he lost his battle to cancer. This happens to me a lot. Just sayin'.
Though you would think laying in bed from 6 pm until 8 am tossing and turning, reeling from internal strife, fighting to sleep, unable to stop your brain from spinning would burn innumerable amounts of calories, the fact is...it won't. The chances of it doing you any good at all are about as good as my chances of winning the title of Miss. Fitness USA. Last night I went downstairs to eat dinner after my last entry and made the executive decision to not eat. I wasn't hungry. Instead, I came upstairs and crawled in bed. I wallowed. I stewed. I came up with all these things I should say, but likely won't. I came up with questions and made up my own answers. I toggled ever so efficiently between angry and sad. For those that think I'm a hot mess in need of medication, I'm not. This is just what I do when my life is in limbo. I think I've mentioned this before, but fat girls can't limbo. I like definitive answers. I like knowing where I stand and what's around the corner. I like having some sense of control. Yesterday I felt like I had none. Toss in the fact that the height of the limbo bar has been set by someone I care a lot about and this is the result.
He and I were supposed to talk last night; we didn't. After a few texts about how we WOULD be talking last night, I got one that said we wouldn't be. It was the last night that his cousin would be staying there and they were "talking about life." What I wanted to say in response was, "Don't call me for a while," or "Have another beer and fuck off." Instead, a simple "Goodnight, Insertnamehere." His name is nearly always replaced with a term of endearment when I address him, so, the simple fact that I used his name probably got my point across without me lowering myself to levels I'd regret. I figured I'd wait until this morning and see how I felt. This is progress for me. And what was the result? I took back some of the control. I determined what height the bar would be set today. I gave his indecisive "time out" the middle finger and told him that I didn't want to talk to him the rest of today, or tomorrow for that matter. I wasn't going to sit here waiting for texts or calls that likely wouldn't happen. He has company in town tonight so I doubt it's going to affect him all that much, but it made all the difference for me. He said everyone (company, cousin, daughter) would be gone tomorrow night and things would be more settled. That we could talk. He sounded sad. I hung up.
I started cleaning, frantically, if I may say so. Dust bunnies called for backup as I tore through my room on a mission. Cardio, no? I turned on the Wii and fired up My Fitness Trainer to put some time in with Maya. I almost threw a dumbbell at the screen as she nagged me about missing my sessions lately. Look, bitch, I've been checking in daily getting workout credit for what I've been doing at the gym. Just because I haven't wanted to workout with YOUR ass, does NOT a slacker make. I did a 30 minute workout with her that focused on flexibility. Now I'm all stretched out and ready for some limbo. Anyone?
When someone is deemed a flight risk it means that there is a good chance they are going to run, at their first opportunity, from something they are being held accountable for. Right now, I am a flight risk. I've been trying to do the right thing for me over the last few weeks; to eat better and be better, but it has been a struggle. I am not in the "zone" that usually has me professing some renewed sense of determination. I am far from it. Every bit of it has been a struggle. Today? I didn't even want to get out of bed.
Today I wanted to sleep until things were resolved. If I just kept sleeping then I wouldn't be thinking, dwelling, worrying. I wanted to hide. Instead I got out of bed, even if late, and I slowly got dressed. I drove, almost dazed, to the gym. I sat in the parking lot once I got there, not wanting to go in. I eventually did, but everything was a challenge. I got in a very weak 30 minutes of cardio and then I left. I usually like it when I'm there and feel proud when I leave. I didn't this time.
I wanted to hit fast food on the way home, but got Subway instead. I didn't enjoy it. I've been sitting in my room since I got home with no motivation to do anything. I go between wanting to eat everything in the house and never wanting to eat again. I'm going to go have dinner of some sort and then probably go to bed. If I had a passport I'd suggest that someone take it. I should be remanded without bail.
Sadly, Baby is still waiting for her memorable dance scene. He did call as promised. We did talk. He still doesn't know what to do. He basically agreed with everything I said. He told me that I've done everything right; that I've made it easy...but that when all he's ever had has been hard, easy is scaring him. Liking me so much is scaring him. How perfect it is...is scaring him. I may or may not have driven 40 minutes one way to his shop tonight just to get a hug and then turned around, walked out, and drove back home. He's supposed to call me tomorrow.
Last night I was left sitting in a proverbial corner, feeling unimportant, feeling like an afterthought. Last night was rough. Last night I was torn between the girl I used to be and the the woman I am now. Last night I was conflicted over whether or not I stand up for myself or sit idly by as someone treated me less than I deserve simply because they are going through a tough time. What is the appropriate way to respond to someone who typically treats you so well when they have a lapse in judgement? How do you make it clear that what has happened is not ok while still coming across as understanding of their situation? Where is my Patrick Swayze to stand up for me?
The girl formerly known as Doormat would have just sat there all night, waiting for him to get home, and wouldn't have said anything. She would have had an attitude and when asked what was wrong she would have blurted out a snippy, "Nothing!" and answered every other question with an equally snarky one word retort. She wouldn't have stood up for herself. She would have spent months of her life being treated badly until one day he got a new doormat.
The woman I am now? Well, she made it known that it wasn't ok. She took off for a while and went to the gym (that's gym, not Taco Bell). She went to clear her head and prayed that some aerobic bliss would tame the beast that was inside her at that moment. The beast remained, but more of a petting zoo than an african safari. I went back. When he got home we talked. I wasn't mean. I wasn't snarky. I didn't have an attitude. I can't say my sarcastic core didn't shine, but I didn't say it out loud and I consider that progress any day of the week.
When we woke up it suddenly got a bit harder. Time outs were talked about. It stung. It left me speechless (even the snarky ones I'm usually so proficient in). It left me feeling like I was the one that did something wrong. I couldn't get out of his house fast enough. I know why he said it, but it was still confusing. My friend feels bad for how he made me feel last night and feels like he's taking advantage of me. My friend is going through a lot. He is conflicted with feelings he has for me (whatever those are) because he doesn't feel like his life is conducive to liking someone right now. He doesn't want to leave me in the wake that his life could leave behind all the while forgetting that I'm a big girl and I can swim (I just don't look good in a swimsuit). He is trying to figure out who he is as he goes through a divorce and gets his life back in order. My friend has spent so much time with a woman that gave him nothing that he has no idea what to do with a woman that would give him everything. My friend? Is scared.
My friend has told me that I'm the sunshine through the clouds. He tells me what a good woman I am, how beautiful I am, how caring I am. My friend goes a couple days without seeing me and then can't stop telling me how much he missed me, how good it is to see me, how glad he is I'm there. I sometimes look up and catch him just looking at me with a slight smile on his face, saying nothing and everything all at once. Content. Happy. I wish he would just see that what he and I have is easy. What we have isn't complicated. It isn't drama. It's two people enjoying each other and trying to help each other get through two lives that are NOT easy and are all kinds of complicated. I wish he would believe that he deserves to have some of that aforementioned sunshine sometimes, that he should get out of his own way and let someone make him happy. I wish my friend understood that bailing because you like someone is, well, stupid.
So there you have it. The reason my lil Twitter updates proclaimed a rough night, skipping dinner, tears, and a breakfast of McDonald's. Did I mention that I took off and went to the gym instead of burying my head in the pint of B&J he had in his freezer? Just trying to make you forget that whole McDonald's debacle. He and I are supposed to talk tonight. I don't know what time out means. He didn't even know what time out meant when I asked. I just know he doesn't want his key back so I guess that's promising. I'm hoping it goes well, but in the event that it doesn't, you all should take out stock in B&J quick!
Often thought of as the time between midnight and 3am, the witching hour is when witches, demons, and ghosts are at their most powerful. At my gym, that time is apparently 11am, cuz witches? They were a plenty. So many super skinny girls with no personality. I flash a smile in passing and they avert their eyes. Get a sammich, bitch, and lighten up.
The good news? I did a 10 minute warmup on the treadmill (with no indication that it couldn't detect me) and then 30 minutes on the recumbent bike. Toss in a little cool down time and I was at it for 45 minutes. The scale was a couple pounds kinder, too.
The bad news? My 6 year old nephew touched my tummy today and asked if I had a baby in there (his other aunt is pregnant so tis the season he thought). I said, "No, it's the last little boy that asked me if I had a baby in there." FML, yo.
Obese people have an odd relationship with invisibility. Many of us feel like we're never seen because or our size and others feel like we're living under a microscope because everywhere we go we are judged. I am a combination of the two. In public I mostly feel like everyone is watching. In my more personal life I often feel invisible and overlooked.
Today I rejoined Bally Total Fitness (the proof is in the membership card). While there I even worked out. Not for very long, but I did it. I was warming up on the treadmill and in the ten minutes that I was on there it stopped about five times showing "User Not Detected" on the screen. Say what? How can you not detect me? If anything, the screen should have said "Hey, only one person at a time, for the love of God." Great, even gym equipment doesn't see me.
Before I left I noticed a new scale in the women's area (where I typically workout). I know the one in the locker room doesn't go high enough, but thought I'd step on this lil gem just for shits and giggles. You never can have too many scales reject you in my opinion (insert eye rolling here). I stepped on it and waited a few seconds for it to flash "Err" or something equally craptastic. Well, it was craptastic, but it was a weight. 360.6, fuck.
So, remember that one time, at band camp (or was it YouTube), when I said I was going to be at 299 by the time school started back up? Ooooh, good times. Think I can lose 60 pounds in a couple weeks? Me, too!
My nails have been proving themselves to be as bothersome, um, effective as predicted. Last night as I tried to give a boy a massage after his hard day of work I'm pretty sure I stabbed him in the neck. Being as how I didn't hit the jugular and he's just happy to be getting one, he didn't say a word. As I waited in line at the drive through Starbucks this morning, I couldn't get my debit card out of its home in my wallet. I had to bend my wallet back and use my teeth. It prevented me from getting a pumpkin scone for breakfast and instead I got a reduced-fat turkey bacon and egg white sandwich. It did not prevent me from getting a pumpkin spice latte. Tis the season, bitches.
Per the request of someone who had too much whine with his pork, here's a photo of my scissorhands. I know. They're not even crazy long. For those that haven't had fakies before, it's not so much the length (I'm used to long nails for the most part), it's the fact that they aren't actually part of your body and you can't feel things with them the same way and it's how thick they are. They're twice as thick as your natural nails which is why it's harder to wedge them under the tab on your can of beer. Hell, I can't even set free a piece of turkey bacon from between my teeth anymore. I had to use a piece of paper in my car on the drive home. I know, this is serious. Hopefully they keep reminding me to stay on track. If not, maybe I can start trimming hedges and cutting hair with them
I decided to get my nails done today. A full set of fake french loveliness. I've had acrylics before and I never keep them on for very long. They start pissing me off or I can't afford to get them filled all the time. I'm not sure why I keep going back to fake when my nails look beautiful naturally, but I do. Maybe it's the simple fact that they don't break as easily or maybe it's the fact that they just look effin perfect when they're fake and that's me, perfect.
I did it this time for a somewhat odd reason. They are meant to be a constant reminder of what I'm trying to do...better myself. There is very little I can do in a day that isn't somehow affected by my sassy new nails and I'm hoping, at least for a while, it will be a reminder. If I can't get the lid off of the pint of Ben & Jerry's that easily anymore than mayhaps I shouldn't be eating it. Can't open a can of Diet Mt. Dew? Shouldn't be drinking it. Long fake nails just don't cooperate the way long real nails do so things just end up more difficult.
We'll see. It's worth a shot. Regardless, I look hot.
Have you ever spent a glorious afternoon in the city doing all of your favorite things as if money were no object? Mani with Pedi perhaps? Lunch with the girls/boys? A little retail therapy? In a perfect world, perhaps all of the above with a side of gelato. As you walk back to your car there is a certain bounce in your step and then your perfect day is over. Your stomach drops right out of your body as you notice a meter maid, excuse me, Parking Enforcement Officer, drawing nearer to your car. You check your watch and realize it's only a matter of seconds before your time expires. Your face goes flush, your heart races, beads of sweat form on your brow and, as if in slow motion, you start racing towards your car with arms and shopping bags flailing. You reach the meter as Rita starts flipping open her pad just itching to tally another ticket towards her quota. Clock ticking you start frantically searching your pockets and purse for the one thing that can save you right now...change.
That's what I need right now...change, or rather, changes. I need to make a lot of them. I haven't been doing very much right lately. At best I go a day or two before it all goes wrong again. I usually start off well, but if I haven't screwed it up by lunch I certainly have by dinner. The last couple weeks I've been eating better, but not good enough. I'm getting a little exercise, but not enough. Any of you that have been following me for any decent amount of time know that I can really only do this if I'm consumed by this. I haven't wanted to be consumed by this. I've been too busy being consumed by school and money and everything else life has been throwing at me. The thing is, when I am consumed by weight loss and doing everything right, I find it much easier to deal with all of the things life throws at me. I feel in control and better able to face any obstacles put in front of me. I feel stronger, I have more energy, I have more focus.
Here are 10 changes I'm prepared to offer you, Lovely Rita, Meter Maid, because I'm by no means ready for my time to expire just yet.
1. At least 32 oz. of water every day 2. At least 4 blog entries a week 3. Consistently Twitter every day about what I'm doing and what I'm eating 4. At least 30 minutes of exercise 5 days a week 5. Get out of bed before 8 every weekday 6. Be in bed before 11:30 every weekday 7. Eat a healthy low-fat breakfast every day 8. Eat 5 to 6 small meals a day 9. Start taking my diabetes meds again 10. Stop the negative self-talk
Put the ticket book away, bitch, I just bought myself some more time.
Not in a getting on the scale sort of way, that would be just silly. No, I am finally weighing in on More To Love (aka Fatchelor). Let's first address the big stud Luke. Dude, I know you're like a kid in a candy store, but stop making out with EVERYONE! Some of those chicks will boil your bunny in a heartbeat and that's just giving them flames for the fire. Speaking of bunny boilers, the three people that annoyed me the most are now gone and two of them had fatal attraction down to a tee.
Lauren. Backstab much? Catty effin bitch. Good Jesus. She'd kick puppies to get that ass. Kristian. Not so much a bunny boiler as an "I'll slit my wrists to get your attention" kind of girl. That girl moves faster than Michael Vick picking up soap in the shower. There's this thing called "mystery" that's kind of attractive when dating. Look into it. Melissa (Mel B). Oooooh sweetheart. Dear God I hope this has given you an ounce of self-esteem. Nuff said.
So, now there are, what, four girls left? I don't know them. He's weeded out the drama queens and left me with 4 girls I have no opinion of, except maybe Malissa. She's kinda full of herself sometimes. Jury is still out.
I'm tired. It's been a very trying week of introspection and realization. Will possibly broach those subjects tomorrow. Must. Sleep. Now.
Because I'm fat I'm expected to fail. Because I'm fat people think I'm lazy. Because I'm fat most men have treated me like shit. Because I'm fat I'm expected to have terrible self-esteem. Because I'm fat it is sometimes hard for me to take a compliment. Because I'm fat I don't travel. Because I'm fat I can't wear the clothes I want to. Because I'm fat I get out of breath easily. Because I'm fat summer sucks. Because I'm fat guys don't typically approach me when I'm out. Because I'm fat I don't go swimming. I like to swim. Because I'm fat exercise is just fucking hard. Because I'm fat everything is just fucking hard. Because I'm fat I haven't gotten as many tattoos as I would like. Because I'm fat it is sometimes hard for me to believe in myself. Because I'm fat I can't eat anything without feeling like I'm doing something wrong. Because I'm fat I get jealous of things that skinny girls can do that I just can't. Because I'm fat I have diabetes. Because I'm fat I don't like crowds. Because I'm fat I hate to shop. Because I'm fat it is hard for me to let people get close to me. Because I'm fat I haven't lived my life the way I'd have liked. Because I'm fat I've never been in love. Because I'm fat I don't believe that I've ever truly been loved. Because I'm fat I'm often invisible. Because I'm fat I'm a disappointment to my father. Because I'm fat I am scared. Because I'm fat...
Because I'm fat I try not to judge people. Because I'm fat I know what pain is and try not to inflict it on others. Because I'm fat I have learned how to be independent and fend for myself. Because I'm fat I've never been a bridesmaid. Because I'm fat I haven't spent my life hungry. Because I'm fat I've never had to worry about being bikini ready. Because I'm fat I've developed a quick wit and a sharp tongue. Because I'm fat I'm used to rejection and criticism which makes graphic design easier. Because I'm fat I am sensitive to others. Because I'm fat I have a thick skin. Because I'm fat I am instantly sexy just by being confident in myself. Because I'm fat I am a great friend. Because I'm fat, when I do find love, I know it will be based on who I am not what I look like. Because I'm fat I have curves that a real woman should have. Because I'm fat I'm an amazing and caring woman. Because I'm fat I am strong. Because I'm fat I am fierce. Because I'm fat...
I jumped on the MySpace bandwagon after years of a pretty solid boycott when people kept telling me to go to their MySpace page to see pics of them. Well, you can't SEE all their pics without having a page of your own. Well played, Tom, well played. Still hate you and your space.
Facebook? Held off on that until the daily nagging of a classmate did me in last winter. Thanks to my blackberry and the ease of updating my status and my occasional nosey nature, I'm on that stupid shit nearly every day. People I didn't even talk to in high school have "friended" me, never really saying a word, only to add just one more person to their list of friends. Here's hoping you break 50 by the new year. All in all, I like it. It has been nice catching up with people I actually WAS friends with in high school and keeping an eye on those that I love dearly, but never get to see. Most people update their status weekly, daily, occasionally throughout their day. I put up a random thought or activity here and there depending on my day.
Which brings me to Twitter. Really? I've never been good at this. I signed up around the time of Facebook and think I've "tweeted" all of nine times. Twitter is nothing more than the status updates that Facebook has. That is it's sole purpose in cyberspace. It is for people who are only 140 characters worth of witty. We all know I often need a minimum of 1,560 characters to fully address my snarky ways. I am being judged because I don't pay enough attention to Twitter now. Apparently, people want to know what I'm doing minute to minute. I really am not that exciting. I am going to be one of those people that tweets about going to the bathroom. Anyway, to help my neglected tweets I have downloaded a widget on the dashboard of my mac that will make it easier and I have added my tweets over yonder in the sidebar. Now you can stalk me like I like. I will try to post often with what I'm eating so you all can give me a long distance punch in the neck when it's bad. I can't wait.
I've been told that I should join the rotund masses and head to Cleveland (of all places) in January. This is when a bunch of us weight loss bloggers are congregating to meet each other. I've been told it's mandatory; to not even try to say no. To which I countered with the fact that I don't think my ass will be plane seat ready by January.
I do think it would be insanely fun to meet those that hunker down in the same trenches I do, but I'm not so sure this is something I can pull off with my unemployed ass. I will likely stay in Oregon to try and keep the weight distribution even. If I, too, went to Cleveland it might cause the earth to shift on its axis thus throwing off its gravitational pull. Kind of like the Butterfly Effect. If all of the venti-sized bloggers of the world were in Cleveland at the same time can you be certain that a tsunami wouldn't wipe out some poor village in Thailand? I don't know about you, but that's guilt I can't live with. It might cause me to binge.
I don't blog well when I'm going to school. I don't eat well when I'm going to school. I don't exercise well when I'm going to school. This much I know is true. I also know that when I am not doing well at weight loss I have no inspiration to write about weight loss. You end up with pointless drivel about school girl crushes on boys that can't catch a clue. The only real success of the last couple months is that I am completely and utterly over aforementioned crush. As of a few days ago he's still suggesting that we hang out again, but if we do, it will remain just as platonic as the first time we went out. There has been a lot of dating, though. And by a lot I mean that I probably met about a dozen guys in the span of a month or two. None of it went especially well. None that is, but one. One that I met about a month and a half ago and who I now see almost every day.
I just finished the summer term of school and have about 5 weeks to bask in lackadaisical bliss. To hang out with a boy and make some bad decisions. To go on road trips and maybe even get real crazy and rent a hotel room. To make having fun and enjoying myself my only real responsibility. Thanks to Lynn at the unemployment office, that just got a little more feasible.
I'd been growing more and more tense the last couple weeks knowing that my latest round of unemployment benefits was coming to an end. This week it did. I had to wait until the balance officially showed zero and then call. I waited on hold for what seemed like ever and then Lynn answered. We went through the formalities and she told me that I still had 10 weeks of an extension left on my last claim that we could first exhaust and when that was up we would figure out the next course of action. I said, "I know this is wishful thinking, but will the amount be the same as the old claim or the amount of this new claim." expecting for her to laugh me right off the phone with my delusional ways. No, No, she quickly became my new best friend as she told me that the amount of money that I'll be getting for the next ten weeks will be the amount I was getting on my last claim. You see, round about spring break when I had to file a new claim, they dropped my benefits by about $700 a month and it's been agony trying to get by on that. I may or may not have threatened girl on girl action at that point as I now loved her so very very much.
On the diet front. I have no idea. I haven't been on a scale in weeks. I've been skipping a lot of meals. Like, eating once a day kind of skipping a lot of meals. Other days I'm eating a bunch of fast food and various other gluttonous behavior. My metabolism is probably waiving a white flag and my diabetes? Well, we'll just not talk about that. It seems as though I still haven't found a successful way to balance the insanity of school with the agony of weight loss. Must. Find. Way. Anyone have any suggestions?
No, I'm not talking about those little sugar highs in a bright candy shell, I'm talking about fruits and veggies. They say you're supposed to. Ya know, taste the rainbow? And that's what I did. Today is Father's Day and Dad wanted his favorite BBQ ribs and these potato wedges that they got somewhere. So, mom obliged him and cooked everything up. What did I do? It looks a little something like this...
When I was at Whole Foods Market on Friday I grabbed a stir fry kit from the produce section anticipating an emergency kitchen situation. It had every color of the rainbow in it. I cooked up some chicken and tossed in the kit. I added a stir fry seasoning packet and some soy sauce and let her buck. Mom was cooking their dinner at the same time and couldn't help but comment on how good it looked. She loves those ribs, too, but she certainly did want some of my stir fry. Jump ship, mom, save yourself.
I sat with them at dinner despite my angst over doing so. It was father's day afterall. There I was, slowly eating my amazing stir fry, and feeling good about my choices when I found myself whole heartedly fighting the urge to punch Dad in the neck. He kept talking about his great potato wedges and his oooooh so amazing ribs and how perfectly she cooked the whatevers. Really, Dad? Really? Feel better now? I don't actually think they were intentional jabs at my efforts, this time, but more often than not, things like this get said with complete and utter intent to get under my skin...and it does.
Anyhoo, I got on the scale this morning. Not a great idea. It claims I haven't lost anything, but I think she's a lying bitch. I immediately chugged water and am hoping to break the dam before morning when I officially weigh in. If I haven't lost a decent amount I'm going to be about 20 kinds of pissed off. I made too many good choices and tried too hard not to have success tomorrow. Like, monuments erected in my honor success not "Here, take this piddley blue ribbon and smile for the camera." success. If you hear a blood curdling scream in the morning, that was just me.
Unless you're a Green Mile fan you won't get the reference in the subject line, but this video still pertains to yet another BBQ I've survived. And this one? Just shows a clip of what Gold's Gym Cardio Workout is like. Can't stay. Toodles.
The Rock, in this case, is not a muscle bound, rope climbing, body slamming, actor of the wrestling ring. The Rock? Is me. Though I shall never be able to pull off a pair of itty bitty man panties the way he does. Black is slimming, but it ain't that slimming. For breakfast I cooked up a little bagel breakfast sandwich. Whole wheat bagel with ham, 2 eggs, and reduced fat mayo. I didn't put cheese on it because, you know what? I decided a long time ago that I don't like fat free cheese slices. I kept eating them because I like cheese. Fat free cheese slices are not cheese. They are sad little squares of puke dressed up like cheese. I threw it all in this little infomercial sensation my brother and sister-in-law gave me for Christmas and it cooked it all right up, even the eggs. That thing is a miracle with a heating element.
Lunch is when I went overboard. Not "Oh no, fat girls gone over." kind of overboard where everyone panics and tries to find enough people to pull her back in. More like a super hot, confident, hair tossed over her bronze shoulders in slow motion, going to gracefully dive into the water kind of overboard. Intentional, poised, and no regret kind of overboard. I put a salmon steak in a piece of foil and circled it with broccoli, yellow squash, baby carrots, and cauliflower. I sprayed it with I Can't Believe It's Not Butter spray (Mom and Dad could take a lesson here) and sprinkled it with a seasoning/herb/spice trifecta that I will likely never be able to match again. I wrapped it all up, put it in the oven, and voila...
I know, good right? There's more, as I ate it and thoroughly enjoyed it, I recognized I was satisfied and threw out about a quarter of the salmon (I know, I know, kids, somalia and shit. Well, me, fat and shit. If they wanna dig it out of my garbage, have at it). I'm starting to get a little hungry now and debating what my snack will be. Dinner is a couple hours away and I already know Mom and Dad are making hamburgers. They usually get the lean beef so I am going to go ahead and have one, but I might have to rethink the actual bread aspect. Maybe only the bottom of the bun, open-faced if you will, and none of those squares of puke dressed up like cheese for me, thanks.
Day 4 finds me still very much in control. It's made all the difference in my mood. Life has still been kicking me in no man's land and being in control of this one aspect has made all the difference. I feel like I can do anything, survive anything, when I can control this. Some of my past recruits of my Boot Camp weight loss challenge have sought me out for another one this summer. Because I have classes this summer, I can't do it the way I have in the past. Instead, just four of us are going to challenge each other and responsibilities are being divided so that it doesn't just rest on my shoulders. I think it will help keep all of us accountable to each other. First aspect of Boot Camp this year? The Crime and Punishment jars. Stay tuned.
Dinners my bitch. I went downstairs last night and assessed what was being cooked. Fried potatoes, pork cutlets, and salad. I stared at it for a minute. I could eat the potatoes, but, no wait, they're probably cooked in a bunch of butter. I could have a pork cutlet, ooooh look at that, cooked in butter. At this point I wasn't even sure the salad didn't have butter on it, but I was going to give it the benefit of the doubt. I opened the freezer and pulled out a Black Bean Chipotle Gardenburger. I cooked it in a little olive oil (good fat doncha know). I put a little of my jalapeno hummus on a greek pita, put the Gardenburger on it and Mmmmm. I had that and a salad with light honey mustard dressing. I sat by myself and ate. I didn't want to sit and watch Mom and Dad eat their dinner. I'm not in control enough not to hate them for it. When it came time for dessert and Mom and Dad had ice cream...I had a Luna bar.
As I sat there eating all I could think about was being in control again. With every bite I thought about the choices I had just made and I was proud of myself. It would have been so easy to let Mom dish up a plate for me and eat what was put in front of me. It would have been so easy to keep heading down the wrong path instead of forging down the right path.
After dinner I went to my room. I'm in here almost all day every day that I'm home. It's just easier that way. I have computers, TV, Wii (contemplating mini fridge at this point) and not surrounded by bad food. I know myself. If I'm sitting downstairs being bored then I will fixate on what might be in the kitchen that I could eat. Up here? I get busy doing something like Wii or writing (ok, and maybe FaceBook) and don't think about it that much (I might also be so lazy that the thought of having to go downstairs to get something to eat takes the appeal out of it for me, but I'm not yet comfortable with admitting that). I sat watching TV and a commercial came on for More To Love. Anyone? It's a "dating show for the rest of us." It's The Bachelor for us larger folk. Have you ever watched The Bachelor and thought, "I could so knock those other bitches out of the running if I was a size 2?" No? Oh, guess that was just me. Well, either way, now you can. Should be controversial. Skinny people must be cringing realizing that fat is the new black. Either that or they're celebrating the fact that they can eat now. Here, I gotta pork cutlet with your name on it.
Many people go through their lives settling. They get up every day and go to a job that they hate because it's easier than trying to find another one or because they resist change. They stay in relationships they know are bad for them if not at least moderately unhealthy because it's easier than being alone or because the dating scene is a hot mess and nobody wants that. They stay fat because spending every evening on the couch eating fast food and ice cream is way easier than getting exercise or resisting temptation. Is it? Is it easier?
Is sitting behind a desk listening to a nagging bitch of a boss make you feel worthless easier than finding a job where you're respected? Or maybe it's not that drastic. Maybe you're just feeling unchallenged, that you could be doing so much more with your life, and waking up every morning absolutely dreading facing another pointless day in the life of you. You're right. That sounds AWESOME!
Is having your stomach clenched up in knots as you hear the sound of your significant other's car pulling up easier than being single? Will you sit across from them at dinner, again, trying to mentally list all the reasons that you're with them and only be able to come up with "because it's better than being alone?" Are you changing who you are, being less than you are, because it's what you think they want you to be? Sign me up for that shit, quick!
Is eating whatever you want and never having to turn down food easier than waking up every day hating yourself? Is the 5 minutes of bliss while bellied up to a pint of Ben & Jerry's so much better than the embarrassment you feel when you can barely fit in a booth at a restaurant? Is it? Really?
Why do we settle for so much less than we deserve? Obviously the last example is a habit I've yet to break. I feel strong today, but how long will I? I did about two and a half hours of various Wii activity today and feel great (if great means sore). I didn't tally a win at the BBQ last night, but I didn't go bat shit crazy either. I did a little damage control before hand and stopped at the Whole Foods that is about a block from their house. I love Whole Foods. Just walking in there makes me feel like I'm doing something good for myself; like I'm fighting to eat better. I got some King Harvest Jalapeno Hummus (Portland made, naturally, and best) and some of the cutest ittiest bittiest pita rounds for dippin'. I also got some baked pita chips as well in case the chips they had beckoned. I gnoshed on those before dinner and when it came time to eat, I had one brat sans the bun and a hamburger (not bril, but not over the top either as I left off mayo and only used mustard and ketchup), and a tiny scoop of potato salad. I may or may not have had cookies afterwards, you have no proof. I had 3 of the Mojitos (so yum) that were purchased in my honor and when told to take the rest with me, I declined and told him to keep them for when I come back. I made choices. I didn't blindly put food on my plate without caring. I didn't pass off my accountability to another day. I chose what I was going to eat and drink without guilt or self loathing.
Today, all in all, I think I've done well. Aforementioned exercise; cereal & fat free milk; hummus & greek pita; wheat bagel with avocado, ham and lettuce...now it's time for dinner. I can hear it being made downstairs, but I have no idea what it is. I am prepared, though, to make yet another choice. So, take a minute to assess the ways in which you settle; the things in your life that you want and have the power to change. After that, make choices! Wish me luck, I'm goin' in!
Especially when they feature me with no makeup and my super short hair pulled back in a weaksauce ponytail. I've been trying to get last night's tragedy of a first attempt at the art of video uploaded, but it must be too long and blogger too cranky. I think it's likely the blog gods trying to save you all from seeing it.
Basically what it said was "recommitting. blah blah. 50 pounds by end of september. I look scary. Woes me." There, we don't need to see that sort of thing do we? I didn't think so.
That's what you hear in every good weak plotted porn movie. Or, at least that's the sound everyone makes when they are referencing good weak plotted porn movies. It pertains to the cheesy music playing in the background while the pizza boy gets paid or the maid shows how well she can wax on while he wax off. If you engage in a conversation with your friends and you, too, hear "Bow chicka bow wow" they are suggesting that someone, likely you, is destined to get laid (see the comment on my last post from Tricia for proper usage and punctuation).
Last night I had my "date" with Alex. I use that word loosely. Like, Paris Hilton loosely. We were just two friends hanging out. Two friends that happened to sit at the same table to eat Thai and sit next to each other to watch a movie. We might as well have been brother and sister for all the action I got (Uh, excluding states like Arkansas where "Bow chicka bow wow" is heard at family reunions). We went Dutch (see what I did there? I'm dutch. He's dutch.) as all good friends do. He didn't open any doors for me or waste time trying to impress me with his impeccable table manners. At no point during the movie did he take my hand that was resting on my leg next to him. He did ask if I wanted anything when he went to get a snack during the previews (he just inhaled his Thai food like he's from a family of 12 and learned to fight for every bit of rice, but OK, go get a snack) and he did offer me some of his licorice. He did have his leg touching mine throughout the movie and did occasionally brush his arm against me. He may or may not have looked over at me during the movie, but he also could have been looking at someone else for as good as my peripheral vision is. It was either like two nervous teenagers on a first date knowing that dad was two rows behind them watching their every move or it was two grown ass adults one of which couldn't catch a clue if Miss. Scarlet handed it to him in the library with a signed confession wrapped around the candlestick.
I'm not sure how pertinent the events leading up to this date are to this post. The abridged version is that I overheard a conversation between he and Laura that went a little something like "I'm not even thinking about relationships right now. Focusing on school. I've been burned. Woes me. Just wanna start as friends and see what happens." At which point she suggested to him that we hang out, catch a movie and kiss. A few days later he's telling me that we should hang out. Yesterday we do. There was no kissing. There was a goodbye hug and a suggestion by him that the hanging out continue, but certainly no kissing. There were also lots of texts in my inbox from Laura suggesting that she could hear adorable little Dutch babies being made. Bow chicka bow wow indeed.
So there you have it; my strictly platonic non-date with Alex. And since I know you come here for my tragic attempts at weight loss not my tragic attempts at love, who wants to tell me how I'm going to lose 50 pounds before the end of September? Anyone? Anyone?
I surrender, or quit rather. The responses I got last night from Alex were as follows:
Alex: No I did not know that. That's funny though...people always like to gossip.
Me: Daniel has been telling me to ask you out all day. What's that about?
Alex: I didn't say anything to him...I don't know what to say.
Me: Interesting. I guess I get Daniel harassing me and you get Laura. They probably won't stop until we're making out in a back room somewhere knowing them.
As of 11:30 last night...that's where we left it. And, to be honest, that's where we're going to leave it. My Gemini ways have me already getting bored. If anything ever happens it will be because he grew a pair and repeaked my interest because right now he's dropping back down to "just friends" status.
Did I mention that I went to 24 hour fitness on Tuesday? No, of course I didn't. I'm only posting about the ways of stupid socially inept boys these days because that and school are all I've focused on lately. Well, I did. I got a 7 day pass and went to use it. All the sales people were gone for the night so she just gave me a day use pass and said to come back and we'd initiate the 7 day pass. Whatevs. I worked out and realized I don't like that gym. It's one of the Lance Armstrong Super Sport versions and it's the only one between school and home that's somewhat easy to get to. It was packed, it was way too stuffy in there, and it's more expensive to join a super sport than a sport. No thanks. It was nice to be back at it, though. To feel like I'm making an effort again. I've lost a little at the last few WW meetings, but will only be going until the middle of next month. Can't afford the $40 a month with the way unemployment is fucking me these days. I'm so broke I'm taking summer classes just to try and get more financial aid money so I can live. Oddly though, I'm still not stressed out. It's like the day I decided I wasn't going to let all these things get me down...they didn't. Is that because I'm stronger or more at ease with things being out of my control? I don't know. Maybe I'm just so used to bad things happening that I'm unable to give a shit anymore. Either way, not caring is nice right now.
I have about one more week of classes for this term and it's going to be a rough one. There are a lot of projects due that involve a lot of work. After that I have two weeks off before summer classes start. My plan for summer was to really focus (like last summer) on losing as much weight as I can. It would be nice to go back to school in the fall and have people do a double take. We'll see what me, good food choices, my wii, and walking out at my brother's can do for me because I likely won't be able to join a gym just yet. Wish me luck, I could use some.
The Rock of Gibraltar is a mass of land made of limestone off of the southwestern tip of Europe. It is 1,396 feet high and borders Spain. My rocks? Are bigger. I got balls, yo. Not only have I invited Alex to a couple things now that have lead to the successful exchange of phone numbers, but today I texted him and said, "People seem consumed by the topic of Alex and Kelly did you know that? Lots of talk about being convinced that you like me and yet I'm oblivious to it. Do they have intel I don't?" I know. I don't believe it either. Here is where you're probably wondering what his response was. So are my friends, I assure you, and so am I. I haven't gotten one. I just sent it a couple hours ago while he was in class and I know for a fact that he's not as glued to his cell phone as I am. Lord only knows when I'll get a response.
You see, Daniel was pressuring me all day about the fact that I need to just ask Alex out. That Alex isn't going to do it because he has no game. Agreed, he does not; however, I am not bold enough to just ask him out. This was my very own version of getting to the bottom of things without making myself look like a complete ass and having everything crazy awkward for the next year. I've simply made an inquiry. I haven't confessed a rumored crush. I haven't asked him out only to be rejected. I've simply asked if what everyone ELSE thinks is true...is. Hee.
The boy is told to kiss me and then he still walks me to my car knowing full well that everyone is going to THINK he kissed me? I've told the boy he's adorable and he only talks to me more? We're having a critique in class and there are empty chairs everywhere. Who does he sit by? Me. These are just a few of the reasons Daniel swears that Alex likes me. Daniel says he knows men and this man likes me.
I feel like this is a win/win for me. Alex will either sac up and tell me that it's true and we'll get married, honeymoon in Holland and have little left handed, dutch, graphic design babies OR Alex will tell me that it's all absurd and complete bullshit and I will have proved Daniel wrong. Sweet victory, my friends, sweet victory. Regardless, if my socially inept friend ever checks his texts and responds, this is getting resolved ASAP. That's how I roll.
Today started with an interview. An interview for a Graphic Design Internship with the marketing department of my school. I wowed them, naturally, and they told me that I would most definitely be successful in this line of work. Problem is, I am currently enrolled with some of the most talented people this school has seen. They even said so. That the caliber of work that we, as first year students, are producing is mind blowing. Roughly stated: competition abounds for this job. Whatevs.
The day progressed with me working up the nerve to say something to the boy regarding last weeks events. The nerve to put myself out there and suggest that Laura might not have been completely off base with her comments. My first and second attempts to be alone with him were thwarted as other people came up to me just as he was about to go by. Damn my burdensome popularity. Both times he stopped and talked, but no way was I going to say what I had to say in front of other people.
Well, about a half hour ago I got my opportunity. I sat at the table outside of lab knowing that he would come in before heading to his class next door. I was working on projects and he came up. We talked about school and I suddenly didn't want to do it. I REALLY didn't want to do it. I had what I wanted to say somewhat planned out, but wasn't sure if I'd be able to eloquently execute it. I had told a couple of the friends that I was going to say something to him and now, there was no turning back. All or nothin'. Go big or go home.
"Soooo, I just wanted to apologize for Laura last week (pause for his reaction and comment suggesting we were on the same page). I don't know what all got said, but I DO know about the napkin (insert his laughter and surprise that I knew). And ummm, it might have been my fault (laugh). Laura has some mission to find a guy for me, and, uh, I may or may not have told her that I thought you were adorable."
Fuck me, that was awkward.
He told me that it was ok, that he had a good time, etc., etc. He was about to head into class, but stopped and sat with me instead. He showed me what he was turning in today and we talked about school some more. Nothing about my comments was mentioned. No professions of his mutual assessment of my adorableness. No suggestions of coffee were made. It was as if I'd said nothing.
I don't know if he sat down because he wanted to be there or if he felt like he had to be. I don't know if the feeling is mutual or if he's just merely flattered and being polite. I don't know if what I said was all he needed to hear to have the confidence to proceed or if he's a completely daft prick and completely didn't understand the magnitude of what just happened. I do know...that I kind of feel like an ass, but do appreciate that he sat down with me regardless of the reasoning behind it.
Kelly: Rumor has it that dear sweet Laura was up to no good last night, bless her little heart. That she may have suggested something was up with me and Alex???
Daniel: hahahaha suggested?
Kelly: What the heck was said?
Daniel: lets put it this way: a napkin reading "kiss her" was kicking around.
Kelly: OMFG, Daniel!! WTF?
Daniel: Wasn't me. No one included me. I did sleuth things out though. As did quite a few of the others.
Kelly: I know you didn't WRITE it. I saw her give it to him and asked her what she just did. I just didn't realize that everyone read it.
Daniel: It was sitting out on the table. Did he do it?
Kelly: Poor kid. He finally starts socializing and he gets Laura all up in his shit. Just what did all your sleuthing deduce?
Daniel: That love was/is in the air.
Kelly: LOL crackhead.
Daniel: Deny it, foo.
Kelly: I don't know what you want me to say. I've thought Alex was adorable since day one of typo last term, but I didn't know him. hardly constitutes love being in the air.
Daniel: And now you know him, and he's into you...so um...I don't know how I can make this anymore clear...go forth and kern closer together.
Kelly: Into me? Huh? I obviously missed a LOT on Thursday. Him being nice while Laura practically plans our wedding in front of everyone doesn't constitute him being into me.
Daniel: So, did you dudes make out in the porking lot?
Kelly: Hell no. He said he wanted to see my car cuz he found out I had a convertible. So, we walked to my car, talked, and I left.
Daniel: Aight I gotta bounce. I'll see you at eight.
There is only one aspect of this conversation that needs translating..."And now you know him, and he's into you." Is Daniel assuming? Does Daniel have secret intel that no one else does? Is he just egging me on? Jerk didn't answer me. Tomorrow should be fun. I have two classes with Daniel, one of which Alex is in as well. Good times.
Journaling, for me, has always been a way to clear my head and get said things I might never be able to verbalize to anyone else. For me, it's therapy that money can't buy. This blog is the only journal I work on these days. Here, though, I edit myself and use a filter 85% of the time; careful not to say too much or be too inappropriate. I carefully try to balance sharing my life with not sharing too much. Letting readers in without letting them get too close. Today I'm throwing out all filters and getting to the core of some things.
I don't know how to let people get close to me. I've been treated badly, very badly, in my past and now I have walls up that might have served China well a few centuries ago. I am more guarded than the Queen of England only without all the ceremonial b.s. getting in the way of the task at hand. This gets in the way of trying to establish relationships.
I'm fat. I know. I just found out myself. Though I'm far greater at presenting self-confidence than I used to be, I am often overwhelmed with feelings of self-doubt, self-loathing, and self-consciousness. This works against me on so many levels when it comes to men. On the rare occasion that someone does peak my interest, I presume that, at my size, I don't stand a chance despite my sparkling personality. This means I'm not going to make any bold moves to make my intentions known. On the flip side, if the same guy shows me any signs that he is interested, I don't have the first clue how to deal with it. I misread the signs as him just being nice. I convince myself that it can't be possible. I give him no chance to proceed because I make it seem like it's the last thing I could possibly want despite how much I might. This gets in the way of trying to establish relationships.
When I am with someone, I can't verbalize how I feel. Often times, I don't even know how I feel, but mostly, I feel like if I actually SAID how much I liked someone that they would take that as their opportunity to hurt me. That it would be ammo in a very fucked up gunfight where I never win. Conversely, if I never admit how much I might care, then I can't get hurt. If I don't say it, then I don't care. Kind of like my philosophy on illnesses. If the doctor hasn't told me I have X, then I must not have X...despite the fact that I just plain haven't been to the doctor. Oddly, guys don't like this. They need reaffirming and ego stroking. This gets in the way of trying to establish relationships.
Are we seeing a trend? Are we beginning to understand why I'm single and why last night was so awkward for me? It's like I'd almost rather he'd have made it clear that he's not interested. That he just would have said to Laura, "I'm flattered, but I don't think it's a good idea." That's a reaction I'm oddly capable of dealing with. Like I was hoping that WAS my phone number he was pushing back across the table. If he'd have done that, then I wouldn't have to figure out how to let someone get close to me. If he'd have done that, then this would all be over and I wouldn't have to continue wondering if there are bright neon signs that I am misconstruing as friendship. If he'd done that, I could concentrate on my homework instead of obsessing with everything I did wrong last night. Believe me, that list is getting long. I'm a hot mess, people, a hot mess.
So, the frantic nature of this post might be because I'm just a flighty bitch sometimes, might be because I'm floored by the events of tonight, or it may or may not be because I'm still slightly intoxicated. Let's proceed shall we? Hang on, it's gonna be a bumpy ride.
Tonight was the night that my classmates and I were to go out and have drinks after class. On a normal night, I am working in the lab until 8 and right next door they are in class until almost 9. Not tonight. Tonight they got out at 6:30. I still had to stay until 8. They were all at the bar well before I could even leave school. Lame. Not the point of this post.
Before I continue with the events of tonight it's time to give names. Laura is my bestest bud in the program. Andy is another close friend. Andy and Laura were (notice I said were) the only one's that knew about my crush on Alex. Yes, Dutchie has a real name. Daniel is another one of my friends and will be explained later.
I get to the bar and walk in to our "usual" spot, pass Alex, Andy and Daniel's end of the table without saying anything, and head straight to Laura's end. Me. Coy. Subtle. Etc. Whatever. I'm barely there long enough to get my coat off when Alex comes up to say hi and tries to score a high five. I, naturally, inquire as to how much he's had without me as he has never suggested that we should high five nor has he slurred quite so much. We, and Laura, talk for a bit and he goes back to where he was originally. Andy informs me that he has intel but must pee first to sober up a little before he can tell me. On pins and needles, Laura and I wait outside the men's room for the scoop. Apparently, when someone from the program that was there that I really don't know very well asked who "Kelly" was before I got there, Alex was quick to jump on describing me with things like, "You know, she just cut her hair. She had really long hair and she just cut it really short. She..." and proceeded with giving information about me. Andy takes that as a good sign.
The three of us go back to the table and Alex is now sitting across from where I was sitting. Laura and I sit down and the three of us were talking about all kinds of things. She's asking all kinds of questions about him and his life and his past and does he have a girlfriend and "No? You don't? Kelly? You're single aren't you?" Wow. Good thing I'd had a couple drinks. Then Laura leaves he and I there to fend for ourselves (somehow, not sure, this is when Daniel found out that Alex and I getting together was Laura's mission and deems this something he can make happen). Alex and I continue to talk and laugh and get to know each other and all is right with the world. We casually start mingling with the others and every time I go to another table to talk to someone else, within no time, Alex is standing next to me again. I go to another table, turn, and Alex is standing next to me. After a while I look over and he is talking to Laura. She nods in my direction in a "get that, yo." sorta way. He laughs and tells her to shut up. She says something else and he says, "Yeah?" and "Really?" which I took as "Not a terrible idea." The I look back and see her slipping him a napkin. I think it's my phone number. He looks at it laughs and lays it back on the table. WTF? He's not taking it. He's ignoring it. Wait. He's folding it. No, leaving it. No, wait, he's??? WTF? I text her and ask her what she just did. Apparently, she wrote "Kiss her!" OMG.
After a little while longer, she takes my keys because I was ready to go and she didn't want me to. I ask for them again and she gives them to Alex and tells him, in front of everyone, that he should walk me to my car. He takes them. I tell everyone I'm leaving and he gives me my keys. I walk out. Mortified. I'm barely out the door when I hear "Hey, let me see this ride." It's Alex. He found out tonight what I drive. I said, "It should be over here somewhere." and just kept walking (I SHOULD have stopped and let him walk with me). We got to my car and talk a little while as I got my bag out of my trunk. Talked a little more as I opened my car door. Then he told me to drive safe (I SHOULD have stayed out there and talked to him and not made it look like I couldn't get out of there fast enough).
Here's why I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I didn't know what all got said to him when I wasn't around. I didn't know if he came out there on his own or if he was peer pressured into following me out. I didn't want him to think I had a hand in the awkward comments made by my friend or that it was all part of my master plan. After talking to my friend on the phone later I now know that he came out there all on his own. That she was surprised he did. I know that I'm a fucking dumb ass and totally cock blocked MYSELF! Who does that, by the way? I know that things could be all kinds of awkward when I see them all again. I know that I'm tired, confused, mortified, and going to bed. OMG and WTF?
Plan A: Make the most of summer vacation to get over this stupid crush and lose tons of weight.
For the last few days I thought that I only had to get through the next 4 weeks with this crush and that over the summer break I would find a way to get completely over it. I'd find a distraction, a replacement, a reason to never think twice about it again. Well, apparently there are forces at work that are beyond me. As it stands right now, he and I have both signed up for the same summer class. So much for that plan, onto plan B.
Plan B: Rid myself of the crush quickly by finding something so annoying about him that I can hardly even hold a conversation with him.
Though in its early stages, this plan isn't going very well. I keep hoping I'll hear him saying something rude or inappropriate; nothing. He's both nice and polite so far. I keep hoping I'll notice that his clothes are dirty or that he smells funny; nope. Bad teeth; no they're perfect. The only thing I can even remotely find fault in is that his nails are about a week past needing to be cut, but they're clean so really? How much can I bitch?
Plan C: I believe my new favorite bad ass, Liam Neeson, put it best in Taken...what I do have are a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you.
I'm going to wow him with my graphic design prowess, win him over with my sparkling personality, and just when I have him within my clutches, give him the ol' one two with my quick wit (I may or may not lean over his desk with a low cut shirt). He very likely has no current interest in me, but should Plan B backfire then I will spend the next year perfecting Plan C.
I chopped off all my hair yesterday. By chopped off I mean that my neck is bare. Dutchie cut his yesterday, too. See, we even think alike. I know this because today I was working in the Graphic Design computer lab with a couple friends when he came in. Neither of us mentioned our new dos...other people did it for us. Unfortunately, he looks even cuter. He's killin me. We talked quite a bit, but mostly project related things. One of my friends left and surprised us by bringing back ice cream sundaes for us all. He and I sat and ate ice cream together. Swoon.
So, I'm still hoping I'll find something unbearable about him that will help me cope because right now I'm so frickin' distracted that I can't focus on school the way I normally do. It's terrible. I've managed to save myself this agony for a very long time and don't especially dig this sort of thing. Should I need to put Plan C into effect...what are YOUR suggestions (besides losing a couple hundred pounds)?
Remember in grade school when you (or your friends) liked someone and everything could be sorted out with one well written note? Maybe you've even received one in your day. Passed from the back of the room, shoulder over shoulder, until it finally reached you. You'd open it and see, "I like you. Do you like me? Check yes or no." followed by the sloppily penned signature of your admirer. You'd check a box designating your chosen response and pass it back. If you chose yes, whether you ever spoke to him again or not, you were now his girlfriend. Done deal. End of story. When my brother was in grade school this is how he scored the affection of a particular girl. I'm not sure how long it lasted, but I do know that when they got a little older he must have crafted a much more devious plan to score her because he is now married to her.
I remind you of this dating ritual of our youth because right now I feel like I'm back in middle school. I feel distracted and giddy. I feel anxious and, well, stupid. Since high school (uh, that's a long time ago, people) the number of times I've had a thing for someone I've had to interact with on a daily basis is minimal and since I'm so socially inept I don't deal with them well. Think I'm kidding about being socially inept? Try this on for size. Last night I went to a bar I like that's close to my house. It's pretty low key and I knew that I could bring Mac and sit and work on some things for school. I was sitting there and the four seats to my right filled up with a group of friends. All of a sudden I heard the guy next to me say to his friend on the opposite end, "No, I'm not lonely down here. I've got a beautiful woman sitting to the left of me." Cue the crickets because I said nothing. Not thank you. Not "Sho you right." Nothing. I acted as if I didn't even hear him. Who's lame? I'm lame.
Which brings me to new boy from class. Hereforto known as Dutchie because a couple weeks ago he and I talked about the fact that his dad is Dutch. I know; so meant to be I can hardly stand it. Mondays and Wednesdays he and I have a class together. I got all dolled up and came to school. Comment after comment was made about my long straight hair and how cute I looked. I got through my first class and then it was time for my class with him. People were talking to me when he came in, but I saw him do a double take out of the corner of my eye as he entered. I sat at my desk (him sitting at the computer across the aisle to my right) and started working on my project while we waited for class to start. He got up and came over to me and said, "Hey, Kelly. How are you?" He could have done that from where he was sitting. I don't think for a split second that he likes me, but I like to read a lot into the fact that he got up and walked over to me instead of doing it 3 feet away from me. We talked for a minute and class started. I talked to him a little more later and at one point I sat between him and one of my guy friends so that I could talk to said friend. Dutchie participated in the conversation a little while he worked and I subtley put the pressure on him to join us for drinks next week.
Today I didn't see him until 2. I was secretly hoping that he would appear at my table again like he did Tuesday, but he didn't. I went to the Graphic Design work room that is between the two rooms we have classes in. I sat in there working and he showed up for his class. Initially nothing much got said. I said a few things to him when he'd come in there to get something off the printer, but not much. It was becoming more and more obvious that I'm not on his radar at this point. After that class it was time for me to slip into the other room and stand post as Graphic Design Lab Assistant. I do this every Tuesday and Thursday from 5-8. He usually comes in while he waits for his 6pm class. He hadn't. I decided to run over to the main building and get something to eat. I was walking up to my food vendor of choice and saw that he was there. I didn't say anything. I didn't look at him. I just walked past him and looked at what sandwiches they had. He bought his food and I heard, "Hey, Kelly. How are you?" Now, he could easily have just walked off and not said anything. For all he knew, I hadn't even noticed him. He didn't. He stuck around to say hi. We talked for a minute and as I turned my attention to the lady that wanted my money, he stepped away. I thought he was gone, but he had only stepped around the corner and as I started heading back to our building, he did, too. We walked back to class together and talked. If only he'd have carried my books. Oh wait, I didn't have any books.
So, yes, I do wish I could just pass him a note and get my definitive answer, but I can't. Life isn't that easy anymore. Life is all angsty and complicated now. My friend says she's going to help me out on that front as much as she can, but that at this moment she's not picking up on anything either way. There's only one thing that can sum up the way this is going. WTF?