I have a good friend that I love very dearly, but right now I am frustrated with her choices. I absolutely know without a doubt that I do not have any right to be frustrated. It is not my business, but I still let it eat me up inside.
Here is the deal:
My friend is very overweight, and has a lot of health issues. At the moment this is her circle:
She has some foot issues. Her foot issues are made worse because she is overweight. She needs to lose weight so she can walk on her feet. In order to lose weight she needs to exercise. It is hard for her to exercise due to her foot issues, and also due to the fact that she is out of shape because she has not been able to exercise. She can not lose weight, and therefore her feet are still in very poor condition at best. It has gotten so bad that at the age of 52 she has a handicap parking pass, and has to have a wheelchair to go shopping. She can not go for a walk with her husband; instead she sits in the car and draws while he walks the dog. I am certain that this is not how she wants to live her life.
Now she has another circle to add to the mix: she has fibromyalgia, and needs to exercise to lose weight to help manage the pain, but…and the circle goes round and round. She can not get a break.
She is also diabetic, and has bad case of sleep apnea. I am no doctor but I believe that if she lost weight she would have a better quality of life. If she doesn’t lose the weight; well… then she may have no life at all.
Hey if you want to be chubby that is fine with me. It makes me look better when I stand next to you. I don’t want to save the world by making sure there is a lapband in every fat person’s stomach. I have many overweight friends, and I like them very much thank you. I happen to be overweight myself. But then there is this friend who just makes me scared that I am going to lose her to her weight. Now I know what my family felt like.
We have discussed the possibility of her getting the band, and we don’t see eye to eye when it comes to her reservations.
1. It is not a matter of money; however she doesn’t feel that she is worth spending that much money for a lapband.
Yeah, but how much will your funeral cost? Or even worse what if you continue to get sicker; how much will the emotional and physical pain cost?
2. She is concerned that she is an emotional over eater; and as such she is afraid that the band will not prove effective.
But I ask you were we not all emotional over eaters? We did not get fat by portion control, or eating the ‘right’ foods. We ate what felt good, and we ate big portions.
I understand that you have to get in the right frame of mind before you can take on such as an endeavour such as this surgery, but what if your life is at stake? What if this is the end of the line? It is so hard for me to watch her suffer.
I know that I can not tie her to the car, drive her to the hospital, and throw her on the operating table to get a band. (I would if I could.) I know it is time for me to stop hounding her, and just let her be, and let God take care of her. I am not going to discuss the lapband with her anymore, because why beat a dead horse? I needed to get my frustration out, so I am writing this entry. If anything happens to my friend I can go back and read what I wrote, and know that I did everything I could to help her. I can’t save everyone; even the people that I love. I just hope that God can. I believe in miracles! I love you dear friend, and you are worth it!
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Monday, August 31, 2009
What Times Is It?
You might think I am coldblooded, but I am not too fond of babies. Let me correct myself and say that I am not fond of the work that is involved that it takes to take care of a baby.
You have to feed it, which takes a hell of amount of effort, because they want to eat constantly. Apparently babies have yet to discover the breakfast, lunch, and dinner concept. Then there is the changing of the diapers that comes as a result of the constant feeding. My question is how can such a little tummy hold so many poops? Of course there is the bathing, the burping, the cooing, cleaning up their spit-up, and my personal favorite trying to appease a fussy crying infant. Oh, I almost forgot the lack of sleep! How could I forget that?
We can’t forget what happens to mommy. We get the stretch marks, the sagging belly, and my personal favorite sexy milk leaking boobs.
I have a daughter, and as you probably can guess that I didn’t pick her up at a bus depot when she was five. I had her from start. Raising her was wonderful. I loved performing 100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall at 3:00 am. (Anything to help her sleep.) I loved wearing spit-up stained shirts; there was nothing sexier.
She was an excellent baby. She was rarely fussy. She was very easy going. It was a pleasure to raise her. It was, and continues to be the best thing I have done with my life.
Having another child is kind of risky. What if the next child is not as easy going? What if the next baby turns out to be a butt-head? What if the next baby doesn’t appreciate 100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall? I would have to learn a whole new song. I just don’t have that kind of time.
Some people want large families, some people don’t want any children, and there is us, a family who only wants one child. We are not risk takers so David had (in his words) major surgery to ensure we stay a family of three.
We were chugging along just fine with our ‘only child decision’, but a few weeks ago I started hearing a very faint “tick-tock” in the background. Was that my biological clock ticking?
Is my body punking me? Do you remember when I fell off of the table on Holly’s birthday? I must’ve hit my head harder than I thought. I am blaming all of this on that fall. It must’ve knocked something out of whack in my brain- oh I know what it was-it was the RATIONAL part.
It’s not that I don’t like babies; I do. I like OTHER people’s babies. My motto is let the other mommies feed them, hold them, burp them, and change them. I don’t like to get involve. Tick-tock, tick-tock, shhh… be quiet you! Well maybe I’ll take some notes, but I am still not going to pick up your baby.
I am ashamed to say that I have a touch of baby fever. I caught myself walking down the baby isle at the grocery store looking at the cost of baby diapers, toys, and food. Thank God I haven’t gotten to the point where I am stalking, and chasing down infant strollers just to get a glimpse of ‘your beautiful baby’. Tick-tock.
I knew of this happening to other people, but I never thought it would happen to me. I like my life the way it is. I like sleeping through the night, and doing whatever I want without having to worry about what the baby wants. We have a pretty good life just the three of us so I am hoping; no I am on bended knee praying that this baby thing will pass.
*Plus there is nothing I can do about it anyway thanks to David and his major surgery. Thanks David. Screw you biological clock!
You have to feed it, which takes a hell of amount of effort, because they want to eat constantly. Apparently babies have yet to discover the breakfast, lunch, and dinner concept. Then there is the changing of the diapers that comes as a result of the constant feeding. My question is how can such a little tummy hold so many poops? Of course there is the bathing, the burping, the cooing, cleaning up their spit-up, and my personal favorite trying to appease a fussy crying infant. Oh, I almost forgot the lack of sleep! How could I forget that?
We can’t forget what happens to mommy. We get the stretch marks, the sagging belly, and my personal favorite sexy milk leaking boobs.
I have a daughter, and as you probably can guess that I didn’t pick her up at a bus depot when she was five. I had her from start. Raising her was wonderful. I loved performing 100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall at 3:00 am. (Anything to help her sleep.) I loved wearing spit-up stained shirts; there was nothing sexier.
She was an excellent baby. She was rarely fussy. She was very easy going. It was a pleasure to raise her. It was, and continues to be the best thing I have done with my life.
Having another child is kind of risky. What if the next child is not as easy going? What if the next baby turns out to be a butt-head? What if the next baby doesn’t appreciate 100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall? I would have to learn a whole new song. I just don’t have that kind of time.
Some people want large families, some people don’t want any children, and there is us, a family who only wants one child. We are not risk takers so David had (in his words) major surgery to ensure we stay a family of three.
We were chugging along just fine with our ‘only child decision’, but a few weeks ago I started hearing a very faint “tick-tock” in the background. Was that my biological clock ticking?
Is my body punking me? Do you remember when I fell off of the table on Holly’s birthday? I must’ve hit my head harder than I thought. I am blaming all of this on that fall. It must’ve knocked something out of whack in my brain- oh I know what it was-it was the RATIONAL part.
It’s not that I don’t like babies; I do. I like OTHER people’s babies. My motto is let the other mommies feed them, hold them, burp them, and change them. I don’t like to get involve. Tick-tock, tick-tock, shhh… be quiet you! Well maybe I’ll take some notes, but I am still not going to pick up your baby.
I am ashamed to say that I have a touch of baby fever. I caught myself walking down the baby isle at the grocery store looking at the cost of baby diapers, toys, and food. Thank God I haven’t gotten to the point where I am stalking, and chasing down infant strollers just to get a glimpse of ‘your beautiful baby’. Tick-tock.
I knew of this happening to other people, but I never thought it would happen to me. I like my life the way it is. I like sleeping through the night, and doing whatever I want without having to worry about what the baby wants. We have a pretty good life just the three of us so I am hoping; no I am on bended knee praying that this baby thing will pass.
*Plus there is nothing I can do about it anyway thanks to David and his major surgery. Thanks David. Screw you biological clock!
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Tired and Texting
Iam so freaking-out tired that my eyelids are requiring tooth picks to keep them in the open position. I have been nodding off all day just like grandpa after Thanksgiving dinner. In my coma like state I have had the pleasure of watching the crappy TV shows that my husband, and daughter love. Oh crappy is too harsh of a word? Try two words: Dr. Who. Who watches that show? Come on, if you do please tell me, and maybe just maybe I will stop teasing them. How could the show be that bad if there are other people in the world enjoying that crap-tact-u-lar show?
I am typing this entry from my BlackBerry, which I love by the way. I am trying to improve my texting skills, and so I thought the best way is to blog my entry via my newest favorite toy.
I think everyone should get a CrackBerry. You can do everything with the help of this thing. Not to be crude but it will even help get you laid! There is an app that gives you pick-lines! (Not that I need any help in that department.)
Since I find it so amussing to text my blog from my phone I will be texting my entries from my BlackBerry in my other blog- 'Left to my Own Devices'. Look for me and my phone there!
I am typing this entry from my BlackBerry, which I love by the way. I am trying to improve my texting skills, and so I thought the best way is to blog my entry via my newest favorite toy.
I think everyone should get a CrackBerry. You can do everything with the help of this thing. Not to be crude but it will even help get you laid! There is an app that gives you pick-lines! (Not that I need any help in that department.)
Since I find it so amussing to text my blog from my phone I will be texting my entries from my BlackBerry in my other blog- 'Left to my Own Devices'. Look for me and my phone there!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
UPDATE
You might be disappointed in me but I must stop 'dieting'. The more I diet- the more weight I gain. It seemed to me the less I worried about my weight the more weight I lose. I am quiting.
There is more exciting news. I am going in for surgery at the end of September to have my port re-done. Apparently my port has done a little dance in my tummy, and I need to get some work done.
Good news: The pain I feel around my port when I move will be gone.
The could be uncomfortable news:
I have to go back in to get a full blown surgery. No half-assing it for me. I will become a proud owner of 3 inch scar on my tummy, because my doctor can not reposition my port without cutting. Oh and the port is being sewed on to the muscle. Best news of the after-surgery pain may be the same as it was after the lapband. Ouchie!
I am going back to eating whatever the hell I want. No more calorie counting.
There is more exciting news. I am going in for surgery at the end of September to have my port re-done. Apparently my port has done a little dance in my tummy, and I need to get some work done.
Good news: The pain I feel around my port when I move will be gone.
The could be uncomfortable news:
I have to go back in to get a full blown surgery. No half-assing it for me. I will become a proud owner of 3 inch scar on my tummy, because my doctor can not reposition my port without cutting. Oh and the port is being sewed on to the muscle. Best news of the after-surgery pain may be the same as it was after the lapband. Ouchie!
I am going back to eating whatever the hell I want. No more calorie counting.
Monday, August 24, 2009
This Has Been an Interesting Summer
There have been a few changes in my home in the last month. My daughter turned 12. It hit me like a ton of bricks falling from the sky going 1,000 miles an hour. BAM! Great now I have a parental concussion. Now I know what Wile e. Coyote feels like when the side of the cliff drops on his head. But just like Wile I brought on these stars that are swirling over my head.
My daughter is has two personalities. When she is at school she is outgoing, she joins every sports team. Expect track, she hates track! Just ask her. She is on the student council, and she has no lack of friends.
When she comes home she is quiet, and she will not leave me side. I encourage her to get together with her friends instead she sighs and she tells me that she is tired, has too much homework, or she doesn’t have her friend’s phone number.
My fear is that she is becoming a staying-at-home-daughter, because she is worried about me. As you know I am bipolar, and I think this has caused her to grow up faster than I would like. I am only guessing but I think that she feels that I need to be taken care of, and she is the one who is best suited for the job. My job is to make sure that she mentally fires herself from that job.
I had enough this summer. I decided that she had to live her life for her own good. David and I sat down with her and told her to go out and have fun. She finally took our advice. Thank you Jesus! (Sigh of relief.)
She found all her friend’s phone numbers, and started to go to the pool, the mall, and having sleepovers. Her calendar is always full. Ha! Holly you’re fired! Here’s your pink slip!
My phone hardly rings. Correct me if I am wrong, but is she not supposed to be tying up my phone line? I work for the phone company, so I prepared myself. I gave Holly her own number, which rings twice when her friends call. Her friends never call. Instead they MSN! All the wheeling-and-dealing happens online. She will be quietly typing on her laptop, and all the sudden she will lookup, and ask me if she can go with so-and-so to somewhere.
I was so looking forward to yelling up the stairs, “Holly, get off the phone!” Well there is always a silver lining, which is if you ever want to give me a call my phone line will not be tied up by silly tween conversations.
When I ask her why she doesn’t use the phone; she rolls her eyes and says, “Oh mom, we don’t use phones ANYMORE!”
Humph! Anymore…what? How did I get old?
Excuse me I got off track. The reason I am composing this entry is to announce that Holly has her first boyfriend, and she ‘hearts’ him. I am not too worried about it, but it is making me want to tie her up, and lock her in the closet.
Her boyfriend is similar to Holly. They are both active in sports, and they are on the honour roll list.
He is shy. David and I stay involved as much as possible. We took them out to dinner already, and the poor boy couldn’t even eat, because he was too nervous. He kept his eyes on David the whole time. He barely could spit out three words. It was cute.
From what I can see he is really sweet to my daughter. She just had her birthday, and he took her shopping so he could buy her a gift. They shopped for four hours, but she could not make up her mind. He ended up giving her the money instead. The main point was he went shopping! What boy will do that? Her father that’s who. David will go shopping to make me happy. It is my hope that she will always pick nice, smart gentlemen.
I know you might not agree with David and me when it comes to Holly having a ‘boyfriend’, but we feel that we can not stop her. She might do it behind our back. We support her and as a result she tells us everything that happens when they hangout. (We knew we she had her first kiss. GULP!) They go places with us. (After all they are only 12.) We met his parents. This is the first step down a long road of boyfriends, and if we get up-to-date post cards along the way it will let us sleep better at night. (Maybe.)
My daughter is has two personalities. When she is at school she is outgoing, she joins every sports team. Expect track, she hates track! Just ask her. She is on the student council, and she has no lack of friends.
When she comes home she is quiet, and she will not leave me side. I encourage her to get together with her friends instead she sighs and she tells me that she is tired, has too much homework, or she doesn’t have her friend’s phone number.
My fear is that she is becoming a staying-at-home-daughter, because she is worried about me. As you know I am bipolar, and I think this has caused her to grow up faster than I would like. I am only guessing but I think that she feels that I need to be taken care of, and she is the one who is best suited for the job. My job is to make sure that she mentally fires herself from that job.
I had enough this summer. I decided that she had to live her life for her own good. David and I sat down with her and told her to go out and have fun. She finally took our advice. Thank you Jesus! (Sigh of relief.)
She found all her friend’s phone numbers, and started to go to the pool, the mall, and having sleepovers. Her calendar is always full. Ha! Holly you’re fired! Here’s your pink slip!
My phone hardly rings. Correct me if I am wrong, but is she not supposed to be tying up my phone line? I work for the phone company, so I prepared myself. I gave Holly her own number, which rings twice when her friends call. Her friends never call. Instead they MSN! All the wheeling-and-dealing happens online. She will be quietly typing on her laptop, and all the sudden she will lookup, and ask me if she can go with so-and-so to somewhere.
I was so looking forward to yelling up the stairs, “Holly, get off the phone!” Well there is always a silver lining, which is if you ever want to give me a call my phone line will not be tied up by silly tween conversations.
When I ask her why she doesn’t use the phone; she rolls her eyes and says, “Oh mom, we don’t use phones ANYMORE!”
Humph! Anymore…what? How did I get old?
Excuse me I got off track. The reason I am composing this entry is to announce that Holly has her first boyfriend, and she ‘hearts’ him. I am not too worried about it, but it is making me want to tie her up, and lock her in the closet.
Her boyfriend is similar to Holly. They are both active in sports, and they are on the honour roll list.
He is shy. David and I stay involved as much as possible. We took them out to dinner already, and the poor boy couldn’t even eat, because he was too nervous. He kept his eyes on David the whole time. He barely could spit out three words. It was cute.
From what I can see he is really sweet to my daughter. She just had her birthday, and he took her shopping so he could buy her a gift. They shopped for four hours, but she could not make up her mind. He ended up giving her the money instead. The main point was he went shopping! What boy will do that? Her father that’s who. David will go shopping to make me happy. It is my hope that she will always pick nice, smart gentlemen.
I know you might not agree with David and me when it comes to Holly having a ‘boyfriend’, but we feel that we can not stop her. She might do it behind our back. We support her and as a result she tells us everything that happens when they hangout. (We knew we she had her first kiss. GULP!) They go places with us. (After all they are only 12.) We met his parents. This is the first step down a long road of boyfriends, and if we get up-to-date post cards along the way it will let us sleep better at night. (Maybe.)
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Let Me Explain
First day journaling: Not so hot. 1825 calories consumed. *EXACTLY*, 2000 calories burned. Not quite what I was hoping for. Let's see where my downfalls were.
After a two second review it might have been all of the bread products I ate. Two croissants, two rolls, and a gallon of peanut butter. I missed the protein boat.
I can only think of one positive thing, which is I normally eat a late night goodie, but since you are watching and it was not a day for the record book I am going to skip my late night snack.
After a two second review it might have been all of the bread products I ate. Two croissants, two rolls, and a gallon of peanut butter. I missed the protein boat.
I can only think of one positive thing, which is I normally eat a late night goodie, but since you are watching and it was not a day for the record book I am going to skip my late night snack.
No Where to Run to Baby...No Where to Hide!
(Foreshadowing music…)
Dum-Dum-Dumb-Dumpty-Dee-Duumm…Dumpty-Dee-Dum-Dumpty-Dee-Dummmm…
Today is the BIG day- I start food journaling. UGH. I want to have a stellar attitude about this, but I think I like burying my head in the sand a lot more.
I am going to food journal like I promised. No problem. I figured out that (and this is the ouch part…) if I am at the computer journaling anyway that I might as well jump over to my blog and report in to you.
Yes you will get to witness my days of sainthood, and gluttony. Unless I have fallen ill from consuming a cow, you will see my calorie count for that day. If you take a moment and look to your right you will see a section that reads: “Calories Consumed per Day”. You will be able to see if I went over, or under my target. (Please let it be under!)
I am using Apex, which is the Bodybugg system. I have a calorie tracker on my arm that tracks every calorie burned for that day. I am supposed to journal my food intake, and hopefully be at a deficit. My Bodybugg, who’s name is Bob, request that I burn off 2000 calories per day. Apex has instructed me to keep my calorie intake to 1500 calories per day.
I am going to make a commitment to you that I am going to keep you updated for two weeks. At which time I will re-evaluate my situation.
Dum-Dum-Dumb-Dumpty-Dee-Duumm…Dumpty-Dee-Dum-Dumpty-Dee-Dummmm…
Today is the BIG day- I start food journaling. UGH. I want to have a stellar attitude about this, but I think I like burying my head in the sand a lot more.
I am going to food journal like I promised. No problem. I figured out that (and this is the ouch part…) if I am at the computer journaling anyway that I might as well jump over to my blog and report in to you.
Yes you will get to witness my days of sainthood, and gluttony. Unless I have fallen ill from consuming a cow, you will see my calorie count for that day. If you take a moment and look to your right you will see a section that reads: “Calories Consumed per Day”. You will be able to see if I went over, or under my target. (Please let it be under!)
I am using Apex, which is the Bodybugg system. I have a calorie tracker on my arm that tracks every calorie burned for that day. I am supposed to journal my food intake, and hopefully be at a deficit. My Bodybugg, who’s name is Bob, request that I burn off 2000 calories per day. Apex has instructed me to keep my calorie intake to 1500 calories per day.
I am going to make a commitment to you that I am going to keep you updated for two weeks. At which time I will re-evaluate my situation.
Friday, August 21, 2009
You Should Never Start A New Diet on Friday Night.
I am not going to weigh-in this week. I got my ‘monthly shipment’ in, and I don’t think it would be fair to my self-esteem if I got on my scale. (It might not be fair to my scale either.) I promise next week that I will be standing on my scale ready to report my progress.
Do you food journal?
I do it when it is convenient for me. I don’t mean in the way of time convenience. I am talking about eye convenience.
It is virtually impossible for me to food journal when I see the words ‘cheese burger’, ‘pizza’, ‘Starbuck’s mocha’, on my journal menu.
Where are the words ‘chicken breast’, and ‘carrot sticks’? I can be a real downer to see the calorie counter moving up. Quick cover my eyes I don’t want to see that.
I know what you are thinking:
"But Amy, would you not say that food journaling is most effective when you have had a stuff-your-face-day?"
"Are these not the situations why some brilliant diet guru invented the idea food journaling?"
"Isn’t the purpose of food journaling to help motivate you to stay on track; SO you won’t be tempted to eat that really big helping of pasta with garlic bread? "
I agree that the answers to all the questions above are a big fat YES!
I am a trouble-shooter by nature. If something needs fixing; call me. Naturally I sat down and evaluated my situation. I came to the conclusion that I was not going to move forward with my weight-loss journey unless I keep an eye on my road, which meant I had to start food journaling once again. Unthaw the chicken, and break out the scale! No more eating out, because I can’t food journal restaurant items-who knows what is really in the food? (Fat, fat, fat, and more fat!)
I hatched a plan. Well it’s not really a plan, but more a pledge.
I know you can not see me, but as I am typing this pledge I am raising my right hand. (It is good thing I am left-handed, because typing this pledge would be really challenging, and thus the pledge itself might end up being too short for what I need it to say.)
“I solemnly promise…”
(Wait a minute… What does the word ‘solemnly’ mean? According to Google’s dictionary the definition of the word ‘solemnly’ means: “In a grave and sedate manner.”
Oh, did you notice the word ‘grave’ in the definition? That sounds serious. It may even be bad for my health. I can not chance it. Back to Google I go. The definition for the word ‘grave’ is: “requiring serious thought, momentous, or it can also mean dignified and sombre in conduct or character.”
Wow, I can not remember the last time someone referred to me as sombre. In fact I can’t remember the last time I had a serious thought that was momentous; all the while having sombre conduct. It is safe to say that I will not be using the words ‘solemnly’, and ‘grave’ in my pledge.
I am going to amend my pledge to better suit me.
Ahem...
I really-really-really promise to journal everyday; no matter what. I will be honest even if I have been a total pig that day. I will not fudge the calories to make myself to feel better even if I eaten 5,000 calories in one sitting- I will journal them. For better or for worse I will learn from the past, so that future days will turn ou t better.
I am serious about food journaling. I will do it. BUT…tonight happens to be David and I's 19th annual dinner and a movie date; which includes the following: hot wings, cheese burgers, milk shakes, movie popcorn, and m&ms. Granted I won’t be able to consume every last morsel on my plate, or in my bag- thank goodness for my lapband. That being said I can’t mustard up what it takes to journal these ‘sins’ on my first day. Therefore, I have made an executive decision that my food journaling will commence as of Saturday.
Hey, so I am not perfect!
Do you food journal?
I do it when it is convenient for me. I don’t mean in the way of time convenience. I am talking about eye convenience.
It is virtually impossible for me to food journal when I see the words ‘cheese burger’, ‘pizza’, ‘Starbuck’s mocha’, on my journal menu.
Where are the words ‘chicken breast’, and ‘carrot sticks’? I can be a real downer to see the calorie counter moving up. Quick cover my eyes I don’t want to see that.
I know what you are thinking:
"But Amy, would you not say that food journaling is most effective when you have had a stuff-your-face-day?"
"Are these not the situations why some brilliant diet guru invented the idea food journaling?"
"Isn’t the purpose of food journaling to help motivate you to stay on track; SO you won’t be tempted to eat that really big helping of pasta with garlic bread? "
I agree that the answers to all the questions above are a big fat YES!
I am a trouble-shooter by nature. If something needs fixing; call me. Naturally I sat down and evaluated my situation. I came to the conclusion that I was not going to move forward with my weight-loss journey unless I keep an eye on my road, which meant I had to start food journaling once again. Unthaw the chicken, and break out the scale! No more eating out, because I can’t food journal restaurant items-who knows what is really in the food? (Fat, fat, fat, and more fat!)
I hatched a plan. Well it’s not really a plan, but more a pledge.
I know you can not see me, but as I am typing this pledge I am raising my right hand. (It is good thing I am left-handed, because typing this pledge would be really challenging, and thus the pledge itself might end up being too short for what I need it to say.)
“I solemnly promise…”
(Wait a minute… What does the word ‘solemnly’ mean? According to Google’s dictionary the definition of the word ‘solemnly’ means: “In a grave and sedate manner.”
Oh, did you notice the word ‘grave’ in the definition? That sounds serious. It may even be bad for my health. I can not chance it. Back to Google I go. The definition for the word ‘grave’ is: “requiring serious thought, momentous, or it can also mean dignified and sombre in conduct or character.”
Wow, I can not remember the last time someone referred to me as sombre. In fact I can’t remember the last time I had a serious thought that was momentous; all the while having sombre conduct. It is safe to say that I will not be using the words ‘solemnly’, and ‘grave’ in my pledge.
I am going to amend my pledge to better suit me.
Ahem...
I really-really-really promise to journal everyday; no matter what. I will be honest even if I have been a total pig that day. I will not fudge the calories to make myself to feel better even if I eaten 5,000 calories in one sitting- I will journal them. For better or for worse I will learn from the past, so that future days will turn ou t better.
I am serious about food journaling. I will do it. BUT…tonight happens to be David and I's 19th annual dinner and a movie date; which includes the following: hot wings, cheese burgers, milk shakes, movie popcorn, and m&ms. Granted I won’t be able to consume every last morsel on my plate, or in my bag- thank goodness for my lapband. That being said I can’t mustard up what it takes to journal these ‘sins’ on my first day. Therefore, I have made an executive decision that my food journaling will commence as of Saturday.
Hey, so I am not perfect!
Friday, August 14, 2009
Party Mama / Weight Loss Challenge
Today is Friday, August, 14. I weighed myself today, and I am down to 171.2, but I think it was a fluke. This week I am going to limit my sugar intake. Close your eyes…picture a mountain of sugar. Now picture me sitting on top of said mountain of sugar with a straw. That's me loving my sugar! I need to get off of that mountain.
Goal for this week: Limit sugar intake.
Holly just had her 12th birthday. It was a busy day for me. David and I decided to throw a ‘surprise’ 7:00 am birthday party for her on her birthday.
We had been teasing Holly for the last few weeks in various ways with regards to the arrival time of her birthday gifts. (Truth be told it was mainly me. Okay truth really be told it was all me.) I would tell her that we were unorganized, and as a result she would not be able to get her gifts on the day of her birthday. I told her that we might be able to get her gifts to her by the following Sunday. She advised me that if I that if I waited too long that her gifts may sold out due to overwhelming demand. It was hard for me not to giggle; I don’t have a poker face. We already had the most awesome gift- a laptop- thank you very much!
I was happy. That was until Holly got me back. Normally Holly’s birthday list includes: books, a hoody, an Idog, the 4th book in the Twilight series, and so on. I had no intention of fulfilling her ‘wish list’ list; I left that to my mother in law.
Like I said I had bought her a laptop, a pink one. I also bought a carrying case with cute flowers on it. Here is where my money situation got a little non-refundable. I had the store program the computer, and add Microsoft Word, which was $200.00 investment.
For the first time in her life she actually asks for ‘something’ for her birthday, but it was after I had already purchased the laptop. She tells me shyly that she reconsidered her list, and she would like a Wii. (She figured that I haven't gone shopping yet, so revising her list shouldn't be a problem.) In addition to the Wii she gives me a list of the games she would be happy to get. As she hands me the list then she adds: ‘I don’t need anything on this list, so you don’t have to buy anything on it. If you don't want to.’
My daughter does not ask for much. When we go to the grocery story she buys her own gum. That is just how she is. For example a friend took her birthday shopping this year; they walked around the mall for four hours; she could not find anything that would be worthy enough to spend money on. Her friend ended up giving her the $40 in cash that was suppose to be for the gift. She plans on saving it.
‘I don’t NEED anything on the list, so if you want to use my first list you can.’ Because you guessed it- everything on the first list contained stuff she NEEDED.
I piped up, and told her that birthdays are not always about asking for things you ‘need’ it can be asking for things you ‘wish for’ as well. (SHUT UP AMY! YOU ALREADY BOUGHT THE LAPTOP. SHUT UP! IF YOU RETURN THE LAPTOP YOU WILL BE OUT $200!)
‘Okay I would really LOVE to get a Wii!’
Crap.
David and I had to hold several special birthday meetings. We were both scratching our heads about our situation. We both came to the conclusion that we were screwed. We decided to keep the laptop, and hope for the best. Maybe the Wii will be a future Christmas gift.
Fast forward to 7:00 in morning of Holly’s birthday; it was time for the surprise party. We had 3 kinds of cakes, helium balloons, streamers, banners, and other birthday party stuff.
I got up at 5 am on the morning of Holly’s birthday to decorate. Everything was going great. I was hanging streamers; which looked fabulous.
I was putting up the streamers in the dining room, which has a ceiling that happens to be a little too high for me. Being the genius that I am I decided to use the dining room table as a 'ladder'. My system was going well… that was until the table lost its balance, and it toppled over with me on it. I hit the floor with a thud, and my heavy table landed with a thud on top of me. Hey guess what? It didn’t hurt too much; apparently I am able to withstand a table falling on me without harm. I kept hanging the streamers, but I used the dining room chairs instead. The show must go on.
The surprise party was a hit. She loved the laptop.
Holly ordered homemade pizza for her birthday dinner. It was time for me to make the homemade pizza sauce. (I let that sauce simmer for four hours. I have been watching The Food Network so I knew that simmering would let everything marry.) I made the pizza dough "Lucy Style"; meaning that flour and dough went flying all over my kitchen. (Dough actually ended up in my hair.) My kitchen was a mess. Yeah but unlike Lucy I didn't have a stage crew to clean up my mess!
Fast forward to today I can't move. My injuries include the following: A six by four inch bruise on my left forearm. I have a bruise on my inner left wrist, and my left hand is also bruised from top to bottom (my fingers were spared).
I also have some big bruises on my thighs. (Those bruises are from the stupid HEAVY table.)
I am not complaining or anything, but if I believe in evolution I SHOULD not be tempted to table dance again. But then we will see.
Goal for this week: Limit sugar intake.
Holly just had her 12th birthday. It was a busy day for me. David and I decided to throw a ‘surprise’ 7:00 am birthday party for her on her birthday.
We had been teasing Holly for the last few weeks in various ways with regards to the arrival time of her birthday gifts. (Truth be told it was mainly me. Okay truth really be told it was all me.) I would tell her that we were unorganized, and as a result she would not be able to get her gifts on the day of her birthday. I told her that we might be able to get her gifts to her by the following Sunday. She advised me that if I that if I waited too long that her gifts may sold out due to overwhelming demand. It was hard for me not to giggle; I don’t have a poker face. We already had the most awesome gift- a laptop- thank you very much!
I was happy. That was until Holly got me back. Normally Holly’s birthday list includes: books, a hoody, an Idog, the 4th book in the Twilight series, and so on. I had no intention of fulfilling her ‘wish list’ list; I left that to my mother in law.
Like I said I had bought her a laptop, a pink one. I also bought a carrying case with cute flowers on it. Here is where my money situation got a little non-refundable. I had the store program the computer, and add Microsoft Word, which was $200.00 investment.
For the first time in her life she actually asks for ‘something’ for her birthday, but it was after I had already purchased the laptop. She tells me shyly that she reconsidered her list, and she would like a Wii. (She figured that I haven't gone shopping yet, so revising her list shouldn't be a problem.) In addition to the Wii she gives me a list of the games she would be happy to get. As she hands me the list then she adds: ‘I don’t need anything on this list, so you don’t have to buy anything on it. If you don't want to.’
My daughter does not ask for much. When we go to the grocery story she buys her own gum. That is just how she is. For example a friend took her birthday shopping this year; they walked around the mall for four hours; she could not find anything that would be worthy enough to spend money on. Her friend ended up giving her the $40 in cash that was suppose to be for the gift. She plans on saving it.
‘I don’t NEED anything on the list, so if you want to use my first list you can.’ Because you guessed it- everything on the first list contained stuff she NEEDED.
I piped up, and told her that birthdays are not always about asking for things you ‘need’ it can be asking for things you ‘wish for’ as well. (SHUT UP AMY! YOU ALREADY BOUGHT THE LAPTOP. SHUT UP! IF YOU RETURN THE LAPTOP YOU WILL BE OUT $200!)
‘Okay I would really LOVE to get a Wii!’
Crap.
David and I had to hold several special birthday meetings. We were both scratching our heads about our situation. We both came to the conclusion that we were screwed. We decided to keep the laptop, and hope for the best. Maybe the Wii will be a future Christmas gift.
Fast forward to 7:00 in morning of Holly’s birthday; it was time for the surprise party. We had 3 kinds of cakes, helium balloons, streamers, banners, and other birthday party stuff.
I got up at 5 am on the morning of Holly’s birthday to decorate. Everything was going great. I was hanging streamers; which looked fabulous.
I was putting up the streamers in the dining room, which has a ceiling that happens to be a little too high for me. Being the genius that I am I decided to use the dining room table as a 'ladder'. My system was going well… that was until the table lost its balance, and it toppled over with me on it. I hit the floor with a thud, and my heavy table landed with a thud on top of me. Hey guess what? It didn’t hurt too much; apparently I am able to withstand a table falling on me without harm. I kept hanging the streamers, but I used the dining room chairs instead. The show must go on.
The surprise party was a hit. She loved the laptop.
Holly ordered homemade pizza for her birthday dinner. It was time for me to make the homemade pizza sauce. (I let that sauce simmer for four hours. I have been watching The Food Network so I knew that simmering would let everything marry.) I made the pizza dough "Lucy Style"; meaning that flour and dough went flying all over my kitchen. (Dough actually ended up in my hair.) My kitchen was a mess. Yeah but unlike Lucy I didn't have a stage crew to clean up my mess!
Fast forward to today I can't move. My injuries include the following: A six by four inch bruise on my left forearm. I have a bruise on my inner left wrist, and my left hand is also bruised from top to bottom (my fingers were spared).
I also have some big bruises on my thighs. (Those bruises are from the stupid HEAVY table.)
I am not complaining or anything, but if I believe in evolution I SHOULD not be tempted to table dance again. But then we will see.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
The Last 14
I am having a pep rally! Do I hear a woot-woot? I am on a weight loss challenge to lose the last 14 pounds! Yes I am down to the last 14!!! I know; I can’t believe it either!
I need to explain something before we go on. I am not going to be a size 8, or probably not even a size 10. I am striving for a size 12. I want to be curvy and delicious.
My goal weight is 158. Can you believe that I am going to be 158? I know (again)! 90 pound weight loss...giggle...giggle...giggle!
After I get down to my goal weight I am going to some plastics done. I want to get my tummy all firmed up.
What is my time frame? Good question. January 6, 2010; 5 months is totally doable.
Let’s rally. I need all the support I can get.
I need to explain something before we go on. I am not going to be a size 8, or probably not even a size 10. I am striving for a size 12. I want to be curvy and delicious.
My goal weight is 158. Can you believe that I am going to be 158? I know (again)! 90 pound weight loss...giggle...giggle...giggle!
After I get down to my goal weight I am going to some plastics done. I want to get my tummy all firmed up.
What is my time frame? Good question. January 6, 2010; 5 months is totally doable.
Let’s rally. I need all the support I can get.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Hey I Got A Job....As A Personal Shopper!
Before you ask where I have been; I was abducted by a secret military agency that needed my help in protecting the world from terrible salespeople.
It all started when my brother decided to get married…
My mother was very excited about the upcoming wedding, and she wanted to treat me to something special. I was excited by the fact that I would not be shopping in the ‘moo-department’ for a formal dress. She decided to buy me a dress to wear to this happy occasion. My mother had the brilliant idea that we go downtown and help each other find our perfect dresses. Ahem…I love my mother, but she needs my help in the fashion department much more than I need hers. However, I need more help in the wallet department, so this arrangement worked out beautifully.
Did I say wallet? To me if you spend $80 on a dress you paid too much, but if you found a dress marked down to $80 you got a good deal. Well let’s just say my mother does not subscribe to my price-point ideology. Let’s say she is not one to shop at Macy’s, or even Bloomingdale’s. Bloomingdale’s most expensive dress is the same price as the most marked down dress on clearance in the store she likes. (I just checked Bloomingdale’s website.)
When I checked the price tags of these dresses my heart literally missed a beat. And guess what? WE were going to get dresses from here! I decided maybe she was going to get a dress from here, but I could not do it, as I would have to wear my dress everyday for the rest of my life, and be buried in it to amortize the dress’ cost to a reasonable price. My mother is very generous bless her heart, but what if I spilt something on it? I think I would have a heart attack! No seriously I would.
I have never been in that high-end of a retail establishment; we poor folks tend to shop in the sticks. As a result I was overwhelmed by the bright lights, and the number of salespeople. The only thing I thought was their major downfall was there was no espresso machine. I figure if someone is paying $6,000 for a dress give the person an espresso damn it!
I mentioned that I was from the sticks right? I looked the part too. I had picked out some really cute clothes to go downtown in: lovely shorts, and a really cute top. I used to work downtown, so I know the score. We had been having a heat wave so I made sure I packed shorts, and only shorts. Yeah but the only problem was the next day our heat wave was over. I just packed these stupid made for heat wave clothes. I had to wear my dad’s sweater, my old tennis shoes, and the capri pants I wore last night. (Normally I would have just worn the damn shorts, but it was too damn cold, and it was raining.) I was a mismatched mess. My mother has her own style, which I call: ‘I wear what I want, and I don’t care what you all think. It only matters that I like it.’ As a result she looked a little mismatched too, but that is the norm for her. I forgot to mention my sister was there in a wheelchair looking pathetic, and my daughter was ramming her into the racks due to the fact that she does not have a ‘wheel chair driver’s license’. Yes, we were a motley crew.
So picture this: Four people, who should be shopping at Wal-Mart and using the layaway plan, wander into store where the prices could be for used cars, but instead were for articles of clothing.
(Please don’t touch our stuff, please don’t touch our stuff. Oh damn they are touching our stuff.)
I bet sales ladies drew straws to see which one had to come over to greet us. (God, this was going to be a waste of time!)
My mother spent the next hour picking out dresses, to which MY DAUGHTER had to add to the change room. When my mom was picking out some Oh-So-Lovely-But-Are-You-Kidding-About-These-Damn-Prices-For Dresses; I found my mother some Hey-Since-Your-Crazy-Anyway-Why-Don’t-You-Buy-One-Of-These-Too.
We went into the change room; the sales lady HAD to come with us. I just want you to know that every dress that my mother tried on was ‘amazing’; according to the sales lady, but every dress was ‘crap’ according to me; with the exception of one.
The sales lady thanked me profusely for my opinions. She agreed with my estimations, but she claimed she was not allowed to tell customers that the clothes did not look good on them. WHAT!!! Are you telling me people are spending over $3400 for one outfit…(While my mom was shopping I put together an outfit that’s how come I know the price. It was jeans and a top) … and you have to nod and say, ‘That looks marvellous on you!’
She said it was a good thing I was here to tell my mother the ‘truth’. Whew!
The sales lady asked why my mother was in need of a dress. (My mother was in the change room at the time of our conversation.) I advised the sales lady that we were going to my brother’s wedding.
Sales lady: You must treat yourself at least once in a lifetime
Me: …
Sales lady: After all the hard work your mother has done she deserves something very nice for herself.
Me: ...
Sales lady: She can wear this dress not only to your brother’s wedding, but to Christmas parties, New Years parties, other weddings…
Me: Funerals? I mean she has to get as much mileage out of this dress as possible.
Sales lady: …
My mom finally picked a dress. Wrap it up let’s go home! Wait! it isn’t that simple. In a hooty-tooty establishment there are seamstress’ to make sure the dress is perfect. There is a pull in the dress. We will fix it. Come back tomorrow. Okay.
Mom now wants to take advantage of my sense of style, and try on the other items which I picked out. I am going to tell you up front the other items are cheaper than the dress, but that is a given, right?
At that particular moment I may have looked like a style-fool, but I don’t shop like one. She loves all of the clothes that I have picked out. She’ll take’em. Now I notice that my newest bestest-friend: the sales lady is looking worried. I am surprised. She should be happy, because she just scored a really huge commission, and she didn’t have to do anything. (My daughter added the clothes to the change room, my sister, my mother, and I pick out the clothing, and I sold them. She just stood there making sure we didn’t steal them.)
It dawned on me…she thinks my mother is going to change her mind about the dress! She thinks my mother is poor and can’t afford to buy it all.
Mom: Okay I’ll take all of it
SL: Instead…I will put them on hold and you can THINK about it. Just buy the dress today.
Mom: Why?
Me:(Laughing in my head…this stupid sales lady doesn’t think my mother has a pot to piss in! I don’t know if I should say anything, but I will. My mother isn’t getting why the sales lady doesn’t want her to buy the other clothes too.) I start to laugh out loud…
To the sales lady I say:
…You have a better chance of making this huge sale today then you will tomorrow. I won’t be here tomorrow, and if she tries it all on again tomorrow she might decide to go in another direction
I am still overcome with laughter.
SL: (reluctantly) Okay
(Then it finally dawned her that my mother is a NOT a Wal-Mart-Put-It-On-Layaway-Person). Now the fun began…now we needed accessories, shoes, and expensive jewellery. Nope, nope, and no, sorry lady you had your chance.
My mom laughed when I explained the sales lady’s hesitation to sell her the other clothing. She said that it happens all the time, and it doesn’t bother her; she likes it that way.
I got a dress too. Not from that store. My dress was designer dress. I don’t know how much it was. I purposely didn’t look at the price tags. It was the first designer ANYTHING I have ever owned. I love the dress she bought me. I plan on wearing it to Christmas, New Years, and birthday parties. I think I might wear it to pool parties too. She even bought me silver ballet slippers to go with my dress. The shoes make me feel like a princess.
But you know what was really cool? She also bought me a Calvin Klein t-shirt; you know the one with the rhinestones. It was a regular size LARGE! and it was on sale. (But my mom ended up paying regular price, because the cashier rung it up wrong. I so wanted to go back and fix it, but my mom said ‘Oh well.’)
It all started when my brother decided to get married…
My mother was very excited about the upcoming wedding, and she wanted to treat me to something special. I was excited by the fact that I would not be shopping in the ‘moo-department’ for a formal dress. She decided to buy me a dress to wear to this happy occasion. My mother had the brilliant idea that we go downtown and help each other find our perfect dresses. Ahem…I love my mother, but she needs my help in the fashion department much more than I need hers. However, I need more help in the wallet department, so this arrangement worked out beautifully.
Did I say wallet? To me if you spend $80 on a dress you paid too much, but if you found a dress marked down to $80 you got a good deal. Well let’s just say my mother does not subscribe to my price-point ideology. Let’s say she is not one to shop at Macy’s, or even Bloomingdale’s. Bloomingdale’s most expensive dress is the same price as the most marked down dress on clearance in the store she likes. (I just checked Bloomingdale’s website.)
When I checked the price tags of these dresses my heart literally missed a beat. And guess what? WE were going to get dresses from here! I decided maybe she was going to get a dress from here, but I could not do it, as I would have to wear my dress everyday for the rest of my life, and be buried in it to amortize the dress’ cost to a reasonable price. My mother is very generous bless her heart, but what if I spilt something on it? I think I would have a heart attack! No seriously I would.
I have never been in that high-end of a retail establishment; we poor folks tend to shop in the sticks. As a result I was overwhelmed by the bright lights, and the number of salespeople. The only thing I thought was their major downfall was there was no espresso machine. I figure if someone is paying $6,000 for a dress give the person an espresso damn it!
I mentioned that I was from the sticks right? I looked the part too. I had picked out some really cute clothes to go downtown in: lovely shorts, and a really cute top. I used to work downtown, so I know the score. We had been having a heat wave so I made sure I packed shorts, and only shorts. Yeah but the only problem was the next day our heat wave was over. I just packed these stupid made for heat wave clothes. I had to wear my dad’s sweater, my old tennis shoes, and the capri pants I wore last night. (Normally I would have just worn the damn shorts, but it was too damn cold, and it was raining.) I was a mismatched mess. My mother has her own style, which I call: ‘I wear what I want, and I don’t care what you all think. It only matters that I like it.’ As a result she looked a little mismatched too, but that is the norm for her. I forgot to mention my sister was there in a wheelchair looking pathetic, and my daughter was ramming her into the racks due to the fact that she does not have a ‘wheel chair driver’s license’. Yes, we were a motley crew.
So picture this: Four people, who should be shopping at Wal-Mart and using the layaway plan, wander into store where the prices could be for used cars, but instead were for articles of clothing.
(Please don’t touch our stuff, please don’t touch our stuff. Oh damn they are touching our stuff.)
I bet sales ladies drew straws to see which one had to come over to greet us. (God, this was going to be a waste of time!)
My mother spent the next hour picking out dresses, to which MY DAUGHTER had to add to the change room. When my mom was picking out some Oh-So-Lovely-But-Are-You-Kidding-About-These-Damn-Prices-For Dresses; I found my mother some Hey-Since-Your-Crazy-Anyway-Why-Don’t-You-Buy-One-Of-These-Too.
We went into the change room; the sales lady HAD to come with us. I just want you to know that every dress that my mother tried on was ‘amazing’; according to the sales lady, but every dress was ‘crap’ according to me; with the exception of one.
The sales lady thanked me profusely for my opinions. She agreed with my estimations, but she claimed she was not allowed to tell customers that the clothes did not look good on them. WHAT!!! Are you telling me people are spending over $3400 for one outfit…(While my mom was shopping I put together an outfit that’s how come I know the price. It was jeans and a top) … and you have to nod and say, ‘That looks marvellous on you!’
She said it was a good thing I was here to tell my mother the ‘truth’. Whew!
The sales lady asked why my mother was in need of a dress. (My mother was in the change room at the time of our conversation.) I advised the sales lady that we were going to my brother’s wedding.
Sales lady: You must treat yourself at least once in a lifetime
Me: …
Sales lady: After all the hard work your mother has done she deserves something very nice for herself.
Me: ...
Sales lady: She can wear this dress not only to your brother’s wedding, but to Christmas parties, New Years parties, other weddings…
Me: Funerals? I mean she has to get as much mileage out of this dress as possible.
Sales lady: …
My mom finally picked a dress. Wrap it up let’s go home! Wait! it isn’t that simple. In a hooty-tooty establishment there are seamstress’ to make sure the dress is perfect. There is a pull in the dress. We will fix it. Come back tomorrow. Okay.
Mom now wants to take advantage of my sense of style, and try on the other items which I picked out. I am going to tell you up front the other items are cheaper than the dress, but that is a given, right?
At that particular moment I may have looked like a style-fool, but I don’t shop like one. She loves all of the clothes that I have picked out. She’ll take’em. Now I notice that my newest bestest-friend: the sales lady is looking worried. I am surprised. She should be happy, because she just scored a really huge commission, and she didn’t have to do anything. (My daughter added the clothes to the change room, my sister, my mother, and I pick out the clothing, and I sold them. She just stood there making sure we didn’t steal them.)
It dawned on me…she thinks my mother is going to change her mind about the dress! She thinks my mother is poor and can’t afford to buy it all.
Mom: Okay I’ll take all of it
SL: Instead…I will put them on hold and you can THINK about it. Just buy the dress today.
Mom: Why?
Me:(Laughing in my head…this stupid sales lady doesn’t think my mother has a pot to piss in! I don’t know if I should say anything, but I will. My mother isn’t getting why the sales lady doesn’t want her to buy the other clothes too.) I start to laugh out loud…
To the sales lady I say:
…You have a better chance of making this huge sale today then you will tomorrow. I won’t be here tomorrow, and if she tries it all on again tomorrow she might decide to go in another direction
I am still overcome with laughter.
SL: (reluctantly) Okay
(Then it finally dawned her that my mother is a NOT a Wal-Mart-Put-It-On-Layaway-Person). Now the fun began…now we needed accessories, shoes, and expensive jewellery. Nope, nope, and no, sorry lady you had your chance.
My mom laughed when I explained the sales lady’s hesitation to sell her the other clothing. She said that it happens all the time, and it doesn’t bother her; she likes it that way.
I got a dress too. Not from that store. My dress was designer dress. I don’t know how much it was. I purposely didn’t look at the price tags. It was the first designer ANYTHING I have ever owned. I love the dress she bought me. I plan on wearing it to Christmas, New Years, and birthday parties. I think I might wear it to pool parties too. She even bought me silver ballet slippers to go with my dress. The shoes make me feel like a princess.
But you know what was really cool? She also bought me a Calvin Klein t-shirt; you know the one with the rhinestones. It was a regular size LARGE! and it was on sale. (But my mom ended up paying regular price, because the cashier rung it up wrong. I so wanted to go back and fix it, but my mom said ‘Oh well.’)
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Dancing David's Parents into the Poorhouse.
Let’s see what has been happening in my life?
David got a new job , and really and truly that is why I have been away. He didn’t start right away so we have been playing this whole entire time. The house has been falling down around us but it hasn’t seemed to bother us in the least.
David is starting his new job on Monday. This is the last step for him in a long road that will take him to an accounting designation. (For me that means a really big house, and big garden; hot damn.) Like I said before he hasn’t started yet, so we had to get him spic-and-span for his new job: a new hair cut, new shirts, new shoes and some new suits. His parents bought the suits as a ‘congratulations’ gift. If I had to dress David he would be wearing potato sacks; do you know how much suits cost? Gulp!
The whole family had to come for the suit shopping event. It was laughable. All five of us stepped into the men’s store in awe; like we were walking into heaven. I think we were overwhelmed. You have to understand that all of us had waited for this moment for a long time- especially David.
The shark, or as some call him a salesman started to circle his prey. I knew the happy gushing was a bad idea. It was like going into the ocean with your legs already cut off.
Usually I am pretty good about getting rid of salespeople, but this time it was harder to do, because the whole family was doing the conga dance down the small isles to the suit section. Our new dance instructor (a.k.a. Shark Boy) was all too please to take us to the expensive suit section, and then for some reason that is where our conga line seemed to end.
I learned 8 things that day that I would like to share with you; just in case you find yourself having to surf the waves of a men’s retail shop.
1. Don’t bring your wife. (Or don't go with your husband.) What? That is so unlike me to say, because I am so pro-me, but in this case I mean what I say. Instead of asking David if he liked the suit Shark Boy insisted that David had no opinion in the matter, because I was going to be the one looking at him. “And we all know ‘She’ has better taste.” (I was waiting for him to call me ‘The Mrs.’
2. There are three people who have to like the suit, and it goes in this order: ‘The Mrs.’, ‘Shark Boy’, and then ‘The Poor Sap’ who has to walk around in the suit. Quote from Shark Boy, “Boom, Boom, Boom!” Pointing to me, then to himself, and then finally to David.
3. Pinstripes are in.
4. Shark Boy says that you must wear colourful suits. I inquired why was his suit was black. I also added for good measure that the nice black suit that he was currently wearing allowed him the opportunity to add a great splashy tie, and a nice shirt. He replied, “I am only wearing black because it is the only suit I own.” Good call Shark Boy!
5. These suits are too expensive for Shark Boy.
6. It is fun to go shopping with the entire family! The whole family was gathered around the small fitting room impatiently waiting for the next fashion show. Since we had nothing better to do one of us would take turn screaming over the fitting room door: “How’s it fit?" or " Honey, is it too small?”
7. When you get to the cash register keep a poker face when you hear the total.
8. And the last thing I learned was this: don’t get on your hands and knees and start worshiping David’s parents in the middle of the store. Worship them outside.
David got a new job , and really and truly that is why I have been away. He didn’t start right away so we have been playing this whole entire time. The house has been falling down around us but it hasn’t seemed to bother us in the least.
David is starting his new job on Monday. This is the last step for him in a long road that will take him to an accounting designation. (For me that means a really big house, and big garden; hot damn.) Like I said before he hasn’t started yet, so we had to get him spic-and-span for his new job: a new hair cut, new shirts, new shoes and some new suits. His parents bought the suits as a ‘congratulations’ gift. If I had to dress David he would be wearing potato sacks; do you know how much suits cost? Gulp!
The whole family had to come for the suit shopping event. It was laughable. All five of us stepped into the men’s store in awe; like we were walking into heaven. I think we were overwhelmed. You have to understand that all of us had waited for this moment for a long time- especially David.
The shark, or as some call him a salesman started to circle his prey. I knew the happy gushing was a bad idea. It was like going into the ocean with your legs already cut off.
Usually I am pretty good about getting rid of salespeople, but this time it was harder to do, because the whole family was doing the conga dance down the small isles to the suit section. Our new dance instructor (a.k.a. Shark Boy) was all too please to take us to the expensive suit section, and then for some reason that is where our conga line seemed to end.
I learned 8 things that day that I would like to share with you; just in case you find yourself having to surf the waves of a men’s retail shop.
1. Don’t bring your wife. (Or don't go with your husband.) What? That is so unlike me to say, because I am so pro-me, but in this case I mean what I say. Instead of asking David if he liked the suit Shark Boy insisted that David had no opinion in the matter, because I was going to be the one looking at him. “And we all know ‘She’ has better taste.” (I was waiting for him to call me ‘The Mrs.’
2. There are three people who have to like the suit, and it goes in this order: ‘The Mrs.’, ‘Shark Boy’, and then ‘The Poor Sap’ who has to walk around in the suit. Quote from Shark Boy, “Boom, Boom, Boom!” Pointing to me, then to himself, and then finally to David.
3. Pinstripes are in.
4. Shark Boy says that you must wear colourful suits. I inquired why was his suit was black. I also added for good measure that the nice black suit that he was currently wearing allowed him the opportunity to add a great splashy tie, and a nice shirt. He replied, “I am only wearing black because it is the only suit I own.” Good call Shark Boy!
5. These suits are too expensive for Shark Boy.
6. It is fun to go shopping with the entire family! The whole family was gathered around the small fitting room impatiently waiting for the next fashion show. Since we had nothing better to do one of us would take turn screaming over the fitting room door: “How’s it fit?" or " Honey, is it too small?”
7. When you get to the cash register keep a poker face when you hear the total.
8. And the last thing I learned was this: don’t get on your hands and knees and start worshiping David’s parents in the middle of the store. Worship them outside.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Toxic
I am not a person who takes pleasure in another person’s misery, but I take pleasure in knowing that I am not part of someone’s misery. Does that make sense? I will explain…
Do you remember: La La La I am not listening anymore? It was a classic blog entry in which I discussed my new relationship with my bathrobe, and my old toxic relationship with an ex-friend. I have some updates.
My old “friend” who I will refer to from this point forward as “Toxic T” has only a handful of friends. (I wonder why.) When I was thrown out on my ass I was one less victim…I mean friend. She only had 5 in her circle. Last week I got an email from another one of Toxic T’s victims asking me how I was doing? I thought, ‘Why is she consorting with the enemy?’ It turns out that she has been on a quest to find me for some time, because she walked away from Toxic T! Walked away? Who does that? I couldn’t do it.
I believe with all of my heart that if Toxic didn’t throw me off the train I would still be riding the rails with her; unhappy as ever. We talked for a number of hours, and we hardly talked about the Toxic One. It was just good to catch up.
Now let’s see if I am good at math: Toxic only had 5 friends. I am gone, Victim #2 left; wow that only leaves her with 3. Things are unravelling.
What if she loses more victims? Who will she pick on next? Her husband? Nope he is already beaten down.
Deep down I know that other people will be smarter and braver than I was. They will wise up and kick Toxic to the curb. It may take them time, because it is hard to breathe when you are breathing toxic fumes, but it is possible. Her victims will realize that they are beautiful, and that they deserve to be treated better than this.
I guess I am just glad to know that it wasn’t about me. I have peace, and I have a friend back, and that just goes to show me that people think highly of me despite the company I kept.
Do you remember: La La La I am not listening anymore? It was a classic blog entry in which I discussed my new relationship with my bathrobe, and my old toxic relationship with an ex-friend. I have some updates.
My old “friend” who I will refer to from this point forward as “Toxic T” has only a handful of friends. (I wonder why.) When I was thrown out on my ass I was one less victim…I mean friend. She only had 5 in her circle. Last week I got an email from another one of Toxic T’s victims asking me how I was doing? I thought, ‘Why is she consorting with the enemy?’ It turns out that she has been on a quest to find me for some time, because she walked away from Toxic T! Walked away? Who does that? I couldn’t do it.
I believe with all of my heart that if Toxic didn’t throw me off the train I would still be riding the rails with her; unhappy as ever. We talked for a number of hours, and we hardly talked about the Toxic One. It was just good to catch up.
Now let’s see if I am good at math: Toxic only had 5 friends. I am gone, Victim #2 left; wow that only leaves her with 3. Things are unravelling.
What if she loses more victims? Who will she pick on next? Her husband? Nope he is already beaten down.
Deep down I know that other people will be smarter and braver than I was. They will wise up and kick Toxic to the curb. It may take them time, because it is hard to breathe when you are breathing toxic fumes, but it is possible. Her victims will realize that they are beautiful, and that they deserve to be treated better than this.
I guess I am just glad to know that it wasn’t about me. I have peace, and I have a friend back, and that just goes to show me that people think highly of me despite the company I kept.
Friday, June 5, 2009
35...and Getting Older by the Minute...
Since I lasted blogged I had a birthday. I was seriously considering not having my birthday, and just staying the same age. But since that isn’t possible, and I really like chocolate cake, and presents I decided to have my birthday. I think if there was no such thing as cake there would be a lot less birthdays in the world. It’s a birthday conspiracy; and cake is in on it.
I turned thirty-five, which means I am strongly advised not to smoke because it increases the risk of serious cardiovascular side effects including blood clots, stroke, and heart attack if I take birth control pills. The good news for me is that I do not smoke, but now I HAVE to be careful. Well it is settled…I won’t take birth control pills. I just can’t chance it.
My free-time is going to be taken up by spending time in the beauty department. Did you know that age 35 is when the face starts changing and noticeable wrinkles around our eyes and on the forehead appear? Vanity is such a bad thing. Wait I just thought of a solution: BOTOX, BOTOX, BOXTOX, and more BOTOX. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before!
Honestly I am feeling better since I started this entry. Maybe turning 35 isn’t too bad.
If you have been following my blog you will remember that I made goals for last year.
Fishing
Dancing
Running
Fishing: Here is what I accomplished:
I studied youtube.com until I learned how to set up a fishing line like a pro.
I spent time with a neighbour who fishes almost everyday. He taught me how to cast, and handle my rod. The people who are fortune enough to fish with me while I cast-out really liked that lesson. (To be fair I have only sent five people to the hospital for fishing related accidents.)
I went fishing with my brother, but we didn’t catch anything, which was not my fault. My brother thought his superior fishing skills would allow us to catch fish with no bait. He forgot the bait at the dock, and did not want to go back. I firmly believe if we had had bait I would have filled the boat with fish.
I am still going to continue to fish over the summer, but I will be very careful not to forget the bait.
Running: Did it! I can run 5km. It is still difficult, but I can do it.
This running thing is the challenge I hated the most. Having said that I am going to keep this challenge for another year. (Now I am making a frowny face because I have to keep this challenge.)
As for the dancing don't ask.
I turned thirty-five, which means I am strongly advised not to smoke because it increases the risk of serious cardiovascular side effects including blood clots, stroke, and heart attack if I take birth control pills. The good news for me is that I do not smoke, but now I HAVE to be careful. Well it is settled…I won’t take birth control pills. I just can’t chance it.
My free-time is going to be taken up by spending time in the beauty department. Did you know that age 35 is when the face starts changing and noticeable wrinkles around our eyes and on the forehead appear? Vanity is such a bad thing. Wait I just thought of a solution: BOTOX, BOTOX, BOXTOX, and more BOTOX. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before!
Honestly I am feeling better since I started this entry. Maybe turning 35 isn’t too bad.
If you have been following my blog you will remember that I made goals for last year.
Fishing
Dancing
Running
Fishing: Here is what I accomplished:
I studied youtube.com until I learned how to set up a fishing line like a pro.
I spent time with a neighbour who fishes almost everyday. He taught me how to cast, and handle my rod. The people who are fortune enough to fish with me while I cast-out really liked that lesson. (To be fair I have only sent five people to the hospital for fishing related accidents.)
I went fishing with my brother, but we didn’t catch anything, which was not my fault. My brother thought his superior fishing skills would allow us to catch fish with no bait. He forgot the bait at the dock, and did not want to go back. I firmly believe if we had had bait I would have filled the boat with fish.
I am still going to continue to fish over the summer, but I will be very careful not to forget the bait.
Running: Did it! I can run 5km. It is still difficult, but I can do it.
This running thing is the challenge I hated the most. Having said that I am going to keep this challenge for another year. (Now I am making a frowny face because I have to keep this challenge.)
As for the dancing don't ask.
Monday, June 1, 2009
I have not been well, and I continue to be ill. I can not keep up with my blog in my current state. I asked David to be a “ghost writer” but he said, ‘no’.
My mind feels like it is short circuiting, and I am having a difficult time being able to function-let alone blog.
I don’t know what the next few weeks are going to look like…
I wish I could just tell you what is in my mind, but I can’t.
The good and the bad of it is is the doctor’s have changed my meds, and we are all crossing are fingers.(These new meds have terrible side-effects in the beginning.) I am hoping I am able to write by the weekend.
Bipolar people are brilliant people with talent and energy, but like everything else in this world there is a cost. Right now I am just pay off my "tab”.
My mind feels like it is short circuiting, and I am having a difficult time being able to function-let alone blog.
I don’t know what the next few weeks are going to look like…
I wish I could just tell you what is in my mind, but I can’t.
The good and the bad of it is is the doctor’s have changed my meds, and we are all crossing are fingers.(These new meds have terrible side-effects in the beginning.) I am hoping I am able to write by the weekend.
Bipolar people are brilliant people with talent and energy, but like everything else in this world there is a cost. Right now I am just pay off my "tab”.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Jean-Do: A Hero.
Usually I don’t use my blog to do a movie review, but there is a first time for everything. Recently I had the pleasure of watching a movie called the “Diving Bell and the Butterfly.”
This movie is a French movie with English sub-titles. Normally I shy away from foreign films, because I find them to be pompous and confusing.
I even hate Canadian films. I get so angry when I rent one by mistake. I sit down to watch what I think is going to be an ‘okay’ movie, and then I see it…The Canadian Government symbol, which means that my government subsidized the bill for the film. I think to myself, ‘Great just great now I have to spend the next 90 minutes watching a hoser movie.’ (Hoser is Canadian slang meaning loser. Hoser is pronounced: hose-er.) 8 times out of 10 I am right. I am such a movie snob.
Last week I sat my movie snob butt down and surfed through the pay-per-view movies I came across a French film that intrigued me. David was sleeping and I thought maybe just maybe I could become a bit more cultured.
Here is the movie’s premise:
On December 8, 1995 Jean- Dominique Bauby, the editor-in-chief of Elle magazine, suffered a stroke and lapsed into a coma. He awoke 20 days later, mentally aware of his surroundings but physically paralyzed with the exception of some movement in his head and eyes (one of which had to be sewn up due to an irrigation problem). He wrote a book. The entire book was written by Bauby blinking his left eyelid, which took ten months (four hours a day). A transcriber repeatedly recite a French language frequented used lettered alphabet: (E, S, A, R, I, N, T, U, L, etc.), until Bauby blinked to choose the next letter. The book took about 200,000 blinks to write and an average word took approximately two minutes. The book also chronicles everyday events for a person with locked-in syndrome. These events include playing at the beach with his family, getting a bath, and meeting visitors.
Jean-Dominique Bauby was an ordinary man with an extraordinary illness. I am an ordinary woman complaining about the happenings of my ordinary life. Sometimes I need a reminder that I am not as broken as I feel. Wait I take that back…I am as broken as I let myself be, and that’s the truth.
As I watched this amazing true story I sat in awe of this man’s endurance and will. And I pondered what would I be like in that situation? Would I have the same endurance and will? Or would I give up and wilt away? When the days and nights seem long and endless will I remember this man’s journey? Will I preserver and go on? I hope so.
I think…wait I KNOW you should see this movie, which is on video. Or at least read the book. Don’t let an opportunity to see the world through someone else’s eye pass you by.
I give this movie an A, and a thumb’s up.
This movie is a French movie with English sub-titles. Normally I shy away from foreign films, because I find them to be pompous and confusing.
I even hate Canadian films. I get so angry when I rent one by mistake. I sit down to watch what I think is going to be an ‘okay’ movie, and then I see it…The Canadian Government symbol, which means that my government subsidized the bill for the film. I think to myself, ‘Great just great now I have to spend the next 90 minutes watching a hoser movie.’ (Hoser is Canadian slang meaning loser. Hoser is pronounced: hose-er.) 8 times out of 10 I am right. I am such a movie snob.
Last week I sat my movie snob butt down and surfed through the pay-per-view movies I came across a French film that intrigued me. David was sleeping and I thought maybe just maybe I could become a bit more cultured.
Here is the movie’s premise:
On December 8, 1995 Jean- Dominique Bauby, the editor-in-chief of Elle magazine, suffered a stroke and lapsed into a coma. He awoke 20 days later, mentally aware of his surroundings but physically paralyzed with the exception of some movement in his head and eyes (one of which had to be sewn up due to an irrigation problem). He wrote a book. The entire book was written by Bauby blinking his left eyelid, which took ten months (four hours a day). A transcriber repeatedly recite a French language frequented used lettered alphabet: (E, S, A, R, I, N, T, U, L, etc.), until Bauby blinked to choose the next letter. The book took about 200,000 blinks to write and an average word took approximately two minutes. The book also chronicles everyday events for a person with locked-in syndrome. These events include playing at the beach with his family, getting a bath, and meeting visitors.
Jean-Dominique Bauby was an ordinary man with an extraordinary illness. I am an ordinary woman complaining about the happenings of my ordinary life. Sometimes I need a reminder that I am not as broken as I feel. Wait I take that back…I am as broken as I let myself be, and that’s the truth.
As I watched this amazing true story I sat in awe of this man’s endurance and will. And I pondered what would I be like in that situation? Would I have the same endurance and will? Or would I give up and wilt away? When the days and nights seem long and endless will I remember this man’s journey? Will I preserver and go on? I hope so.
I think…wait I KNOW you should see this movie, which is on video. Or at least read the book. Don’t let an opportunity to see the world through someone else’s eye pass you by.
I give this movie an A, and a thumb’s up.
Friday, May 8, 2009
6 Days, 21 Hours 28 Minutes...
I changed the name of my blog to: I REALLY WANT A STARBUCKS! As it turns out I can live without a cookie, but I am not sure that I can say the same when it comes to Starbucks coffee. I have had to give up the most wonderful morning drink of my life. (I am aware that you may not LOVE Starbucks and I am not holding it against you. We are still friends.)
I am depressed. My coffee machine is on the counter with no one to love it.
What I want to know is why the pharmaceutical companies never invented a “Starbucks Patch”? You know a patch that would be similar to the kind of patch that people wear who want to quit smoking. It would be awesome, because every so often I would get a hit of espresso to my nervous system.
I am a one Venti-a-day drinker. So far I have been without a Starbucks for 2 hours and 56 minutes.
It is not all bad news. I can go back to my espresso sin in one week-if I want to. (Yes, please.) I am going back to my addiction for both of our sakes. If I don’t get coffee after one week than all of my entries are going to be about Starbucks, and they are going to have a real bitch flavour to them. That is “if” I can write. I might be in a padded room rocking back and forth plotting my escape to the closest Starbucks.
Time until next Starbucks: One week. Only 6 days and 21 hours to go.
Damn you Howard Schultz for opening a coffee shop that I love so much!
I am depressed. My coffee machine is on the counter with no one to love it.
What I want to know is why the pharmaceutical companies never invented a “Starbucks Patch”? You know a patch that would be similar to the kind of patch that people wear who want to quit smoking. It would be awesome, because every so often I would get a hit of espresso to my nervous system.
I am a one Venti-a-day drinker. So far I have been without a Starbucks for 2 hours and 56 minutes.
It is not all bad news. I can go back to my espresso sin in one week-if I want to. (Yes, please.) I am going back to my addiction for both of our sakes. If I don’t get coffee after one week than all of my entries are going to be about Starbucks, and they are going to have a real bitch flavour to them. That is “if” I can write. I might be in a padded room rocking back and forth plotting my escape to the closest Starbucks.
Time until next Starbucks: One week. Only 6 days and 21 hours to go.
Damn you Howard Schultz for opening a coffee shop that I love so much!
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Amy, Amy, How Does Your Photos Grow?
I am tired of all of the grey weather that we have been having; in order to feel better I went for a walk. Isn’t a walk supposed to make a person feel happier? Yeah, except I took a walk in the rain, perfect timing is not my forte. This is where I should mention in addition to Noah’s Ark’s rainfall there was also a gusty wind storm. Looking back on this whole situation I think my ultimate downfall was my failure was to look out my window.
Can you picture me in a rain storm walking against the wind? And you know what I forgot? My power boots, that’s what! I left my pink sparkle rain boots at home. Instead I wore the shoes my daughter refers to as “n-ike”. I tell her over and over again-the shoes are pronounced: “ni-key”! (Don’t argue with me. I am smarter than you!) Wait, I was the one that was wearing the dumbass shoes in a storm. AM I REALLY the smart one?
In my cold hands I have a hot pink IPod and a camera. A camera! Really? Why? I decided that I wanted to take pictures while I skip down the street trying to snap as many pictures as my camera would allow before it ran out of batteries.
Photography might be a good hobby for me. If you remember I am in the market for some new hobbies.
First attempt at a hobby: Photography in a storm with limited battery life.
I am going to show you the fruits of my labour. The good news is you will get to see a glimpse of how I see the world. Look at these photos and please give me feedback. These photos were taking on my street. Please look at these photos and please give me feedback.
And the best news: In the end the walk did lift my spirits.
Can you picture me in a rain storm walking against the wind? And you know what I forgot? My power boots, that’s what! I left my pink sparkle rain boots at home. Instead I wore the shoes my daughter refers to as “n-ike”. I tell her over and over again-the shoes are pronounced: “ni-key”! (Don’t argue with me. I am smarter than you!) Wait, I was the one that was wearing the dumbass shoes in a storm. AM I REALLY the smart one?
In my cold hands I have a hot pink IPod and a camera. A camera! Really? Why? I decided that I wanted to take pictures while I skip down the street trying to snap as many pictures as my camera would allow before it ran out of batteries.
Photography might be a good hobby for me. If you remember I am in the market for some new hobbies.
First attempt at a hobby: Photography in a storm with limited battery life.
I am going to show you the fruits of my labour. The good news is you will get to see a glimpse of how I see the world. Look at these photos and please give me feedback. These photos were taking on my street. Please look at these photos and please give me feedback.
And the best news: In the end the walk did lift my spirits.
Monday, May 4, 2009
It's a Zoo in There! Where? My Head- Silly.
Today I feel like I am trapped under an elephant, and I am doing anything I can just to keep breathing. It is like a constant pressure that I am feeling on my chest. I just checked, and there is an elephant sitting on me. I named him Jim.
However large he might be I don’t think Jim is my only issue. I am feeling a lot of other things that are causing me discomfort, and I will name those issues “Stress”. I have to say at this point I much prefer Jim to “Stress”.
I am not going to go into the reasons why me and “Stress” are hanging out, because I think that that will be a pointless exercise. I am not one of those people who complain. (Ouch- I was just struck by lightning. Are you okay Jim? Now Jim and “Stress” are hanging. I don’t think a stressed elephant who is sitting on you is a good thing.) Let’s just say I have a lot of my mind, and I wish that I didn’t. I have a lot to deal with, and I wish that I didn’t. I want to go back to simpler times; you know when the only time I saw an elephant was at a zoo.
You know what really ticks me off? It is when people say that they are having a “panic-attack”. If you happen to suffer from panic attacks then who am I to judge, but I would rather say I have an elephant named Jim hanging out with me than run around having panic attacks. Not only will I be stressed, but people will think I am crazy. Oh, and guess what? I will have an excuse to go to Costco and buy a lot of peanuts.
However large he might be I don’t think Jim is my only issue. I am feeling a lot of other things that are causing me discomfort, and I will name those issues “Stress”. I have to say at this point I much prefer Jim to “Stress”.
I am not going to go into the reasons why me and “Stress” are hanging out, because I think that that will be a pointless exercise. I am not one of those people who complain. (Ouch- I was just struck by lightning. Are you okay Jim? Now Jim and “Stress” are hanging. I don’t think a stressed elephant who is sitting on you is a good thing.) Let’s just say I have a lot of my mind, and I wish that I didn’t. I have a lot to deal with, and I wish that I didn’t. I want to go back to simpler times; you know when the only time I saw an elephant was at a zoo.
You know what really ticks me off? It is when people say that they are having a “panic-attack”. If you happen to suffer from panic attacks then who am I to judge, but I would rather say I have an elephant named Jim hanging out with me than run around having panic attacks. Not only will I be stressed, but people will think I am crazy. Oh, and guess what? I will have an excuse to go to Costco and buy a lot of peanuts.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Happy Birthday Dear David
I have had a lot on my plate in the last few weeks. David turned 40! (Right on David! Congratulations for living this long!) Maybe not, he is okay with the fact that he is becoming a “mature adult”, but I am not. Forgive me when I say that 40 seems so old. What happened to 20? We met when he was 21, and he never told me that he was going to turn 40. That is called false advertising. I didn’t know he had fine print, and I didn’t know that I was suppose to read it. I know you will find this hard to believe, but I was as shallow then as I am now. If I thought this whole David aging thing through; I might’ve just “leased” him for 8 years. (You know like a car.) Yeah but the only problem with leasing is- you have to make the “lease” or “buy” commitment at the time of purchase. And as far as boyfriends go he was (and still is) a Ferrari, so how could I not buy him? Who wants to “lease” a Ferrari? (Only a complete dumbass-that’s who.) Wait! Don’t Ferraris get more valuable with age? Yes they do! Too bad he isn’t a car. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression-too late. I would not trade David in; even for a newer Ferrari. My Ferrari is exactly the way I want it to be.
It is really not his age that paralyzes me- it’s my age! (Yes it does always come back to me.) My thinking is this: If David turned 40 then I will turn 40 in 5 years and 3 weeks. I am not ready to be 40 yet! I am running out of time.
I don’t care about wrinkles, or grey hair. (Truth: I do color my hair and wish I didn’t have wrinkles, but I am trying to make a point!) Being 40 scares me, because I have been waiting for the “perfect” time to start “living”. If I don’t get my butt into gear than I will spend the next 40 years of my life perfecting on being the ultimate online solitaire player. I can’t let life pass me by. I need to spend the next 5 years 3 weeks perfecting other interests that will fulfill my life, so by the time I turn 40 I will be an expert at “living my life to the fullest, and I won’t be afraid to have adventures.” I am going to tell you a secret: I am scared. Playing solitaire is so much easier.
Here is my plan: I am going to raise money for a new espresso machine for my birthday, because I think better under the influence of caffeine. I am going to make a list of the things that I want in my future. I already know one thing: I want a big back yard full of hydrangeas and cherry blossoms. I need a plan, because I need to get moving on this “mid-life crisis” that I am having on behalf on David. I am a wonderful person, because how many people would have a mid-life crisis for their partner? What? A Drama Queen? Shut up!
It is really not his age that paralyzes me- it’s my age! (Yes it does always come back to me.) My thinking is this: If David turned 40 then I will turn 40 in 5 years and 3 weeks. I am not ready to be 40 yet! I am running out of time.
I don’t care about wrinkles, or grey hair. (Truth: I do color my hair and wish I didn’t have wrinkles, but I am trying to make a point!) Being 40 scares me, because I have been waiting for the “perfect” time to start “living”. If I don’t get my butt into gear than I will spend the next 40 years of my life perfecting on being the ultimate online solitaire player. I can’t let life pass me by. I need to spend the next 5 years 3 weeks perfecting other interests that will fulfill my life, so by the time I turn 40 I will be an expert at “living my life to the fullest, and I won’t be afraid to have adventures.” I am going to tell you a secret: I am scared. Playing solitaire is so much easier.
Here is my plan: I am going to raise money for a new espresso machine for my birthday, because I think better under the influence of caffeine. I am going to make a list of the things that I want in my future. I already know one thing: I want a big back yard full of hydrangeas and cherry blossoms. I need a plan, because I need to get moving on this “mid-life crisis” that I am having on behalf on David. I am a wonderful person, because how many people would have a mid-life crisis for their partner? What? A Drama Queen? Shut up!
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