(Not having) The Time of My Life

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.

Nobody puts Baby in a corner

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!

The witching hour

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.

User Not Detected

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!

Kelly Scissorhands

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

Nailed it

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.

Lovely Rita, Meter Maid

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.

Weighing in

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

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...

Twitter: Making it easier for stalkers since 2006

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.

Chaos Theory

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.

We hold these truths to be self-evident

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?

Taste the rainbow

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.

BBQ, Me and You

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.

Can you smell...what the Rock is cookin'

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.

Who's my bitch?

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.

Never let it settle

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!

Video Diaries Are Scary...Take Two

If, as you watch this video, you're wondering what ghost opened the door and rattled her chains...that would be Lola. Ever the scene stealing whore.

Video Diaries Are Scary

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.

Bow chicka bow wow

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?