On Weight, and Wait, and....

So. I've lost 6 pounds. Meh. I wish that attempting to lose weight wasn't so time consuming. I'm sure most of that is coming off the easterly trip--we ate so much salt, so much crap--it balloons you and then when you quit it deflates. Plus I finished my period (Welcome, TMI seekers!) and that always makes me lose like, 4 pounds. So I've actually lost 2. Ish.

Idk. Like, you'd think that if you could drop like, 10 pounds right off it would be good motivation to stick with it. Instead, you lose a pound here, a pound there, feel like total ass, tired, angry about having to drink so much water, your ass hurts from working out, you want to sit down and eat ice cream (or whatever) but you get to have--whee!--a banana or something. I know that losing too much weight too fast will pretty much guarantee you'll gain it back, but really? Really.

I'm not trying to deprive myself, I'm eating when I'm hungry and all that, I'm just watching portions and what goes inside my mouth. And getting exercise. I don't love it.

On more exciting news, I totally kicked T's ass while working out last night. That made me feel a little better about progress--being that we were on an even out-of-shape keel a week ago. It's something.

I need to go for a run, now. I hate it, hate it, hate it. HATE IT. But it works, so, well, there you go.

I'm over it. I looked at the wedding pictures again and it's just....shameful. Shameful, how I couldn't find it inside myself to try and look decent for one goddamn day. I'm so embarrassed that for the rest of my life I get to look at the pictures from one of the best days, most momentous days of my life and see me, as a whale. Awesome.

I suppose that's motivation. Seeing what I really look like, what a walking disaster I am, stop deluding myself into thinking I look like anything close to decent.

Bowie

I love David Bowie. Like, it's almost not ok. I want him to come to my house and talk to me while I mop the floors or something. We can go yarn shopping together. He could record my answering machine message and I would make him dinner. He could help T winterize the garden. Work on the Jeep.

Ok, enough weird fantasies for one blog entry.

You know what's funny? Forcing people to back pedal. It's awesome.

I need to work out again today. Yesterday was 'light duty' day, so we only went running and did an assload of crunches. It's super windy right now, so I don't know if I'm going running today. Maybe I'll run the vacuum with extra gusto.

T hung shelves in our guest room, and they're super awesome. As soon as he was done, I went in and covered them in photos and stuff, took a step back, and disappeared into our bedroom. Came out, put the 'finishing touch' on the shelf, and was happy. What was the finishing touch? A stuffed zombie. He's a plush toy--His body comes apart, he has a brain in his hand, it's SO COOL. (We sort of collect zombie stuff. Ask me about my new stand mixer sometime.) Hey, I gotta keep it real, right? Can't have too much class in one spot--it's our house we're talking about here. Maybe I'll take pics and post them. Hell, maybe I'll do that now.





So those are totally in backwards order. Whatever.

Losing Faith

Maine? Really? REALLY?

More often than I would like to admit, I feel ignorant. No, for real. The situation in Maine? I honestly didn't think that it would go down like that. I was seriously all, like, "We've come so far as a nation, things are changing now, this won't be a problem!" and then I look at the results and I'm totally fucking shocked. SERIOUSLY?? I feel totally ignorant for not even giving failure a second thought.

When I hear about shit like this, it makes me lose faith in the human race.

Look at what happened in WA. Washington is a BLUE STATE. (Well, mostly because Seattle and Western WA are blue, and more densely populated than Eastern WA--whatever.) Washington is a blue state, (always, pretty much) and 71 only passed by 1.9% or something amazing like that.

It sickens me. Seriously. Sickens me that we are still in a place where it can be 'wrong' to love someone.

I just wrote a fucking book about this. I read back over it--I'm being too emotional. You can't make good, well thought out, eloquent points when you're screaming inside. Maybe more later.

Fish

We're having fish tacos for dinner.

I'm ready for my head to stop hurting. I'm dealing with angry back muscles which is causing me to have the tension headaches. Bangin.

Whatever. I'm sleepy. Lazy. I've been working out and it makes my body mad. I know that I should be cleaning or something, but I just want to lay in bed and make T keep me warm with his nuclear heated body. (He hates that.)

Our carpet needs to be vacuumed. It looks like a Jackson Pollack painting.

Annnnyway. Nap time.

Ugh

I have a lot of chores to do today. I don't want to.

Going for a run actually sounds more appealing. That should tell you something.

My throat feels weird. Like, my ear is clicking for no reason like there's fluid involved, and that tonsil feels like there's a hard something stuck in it. This is also the ear that has the super thick eardrum, since I exploded my ear drums as a baby when my mom took me on a flight to Tennessee. I water-pik-ed it, now it just feels coated and weird. Whaaaatever.

So I'm working out. And I didn't die. Like, the last time I did this particular work out, T had a super amazing asthma attack and I nearly vomited. No near vomiting this time.

Good side effect--I don't want to smoke. I had forgotten! Exercise=My body says "fuck that shit!" to smoking. WHY DIDN'T I REMEMBER THIS SOONER! I got in the shower with T (save water!) and had the super awesome "sense of smell from when I quit smoking", which is to say, normal, everyday smells that wouldn't bother me at all become totally caustic. T's soap seriously made me like, gag and my eyes water and I literally shoved T out of the way, doused my hair, leapt from the shower, flinging doors and windows open to try and air out the joint.

T stood there in the shower, water running, curtain akimbo, shivering in the new found arctic breeze I had created. "Honey? You're not....Pregnant, are you?"

"NO! It's your soap! It smells like chemicals!"

Thus ensued a long talk about smell and smoking and how there is really no way I'm pregnant right now, thanks.

So I suppose now I'll do my dishes or something. Sigh.

The 1st

It's the first of November. Huzzah, or something.

T and I have decided to go head to head in a "Biggest Loser" competition that I am doomed to lose, but I'm doing it anyway. After our trip eastward, we came back and our pants didn't fit. We weighed ourselves. There was some swearing.

So I came up with the idea--Whoever loses the most weight between now and the first of the year (awesome timing. Holidays, etc) gets to pick what we do for our birthday. He wants to go to Vegas, I want to do...something. Idk, go to Vegas too. But whatever, whoever wins calls the shots on the trip.

T can lose weight like nobodys business. I, however, can pack it on like no tomorrow. Seriously. He changes 1 thing in his diet, and whammo--he's 2 pants sizes smaller. Meanwhile, I'm working out, eating no sugar, drinking gallons of water, watching carb intake etc, and I lose 2 pounds and am angry all the time. The only time I have had success losing weight was when I stopped eating. Like, seriously. When I was working night shift pastry, I didn't eat, really. Slept through the eating hours, would eat one small thing, and then go bust my ass at work. Weight just fell off me (like, 30 pounds) and it was easy! I wasn't hungry! Hooray!

But then I went back to being a human and the weight piled on like the Griswolds into a station wagon.

Whatever. We need to eat better anyway. I'm sure that part of the reason we got porky out east is all the freaking crap we ate while we were there--the salt, the processed food, the sweets, the SALT.

Mostly, I'm just tired of hating myself. Hating my body. I have seriously tried EVERYTHING (diets, exercise, cardio, weights, on and on and on) with reasonably small success. It's discouraging. I'm not asking to weigh 110 pounds again, but I would like to not be embarrassed for my husband to see me naked.

Whatever.

Also: Time to quit smoking. Time to quit smoking! I may as well punish myself on all fronts. The last time I quit I gained a shitload of weight, so I may as well do it while I'm on the super awesome diet/exercise regimen. And lose no weight. (But at least not gain any.)

Yeah. Done smoking, I think. (I think. I've said this before.) Please don't preach at me, kids, I know that it's disgusting and will kill me and all that. So is being a fat ass.

I guess now that I don't have a job to worry about, I have the time to dedicate to not slowly killing myself in 9 different ways. Not like I have anything better to do.

I mean, if I'm not contributing to society in any way, I may as well look ok doing it.

(I played the bass clarinet, Brian.)

Hall-er-weenie

So it's Halloween. We bought candy to hand out to the, like, 5 kids we expect to get this year. We didn't carve pumpkins like last year (did I post pics of T's Death Star pumpkin? Because we're dorks. Also--He was Freddy Mercury. Awesome, awesome, awesome.) and we're not dressing up as anything other than lazy ass newlyweds who can't be bothered to wear real pants after 7pm--So, ourselves.

I used to LOVE Halloween. It was my stepdad's favorite holiday, he loved to prank me and my mom (I thought it was far more hilarious than mom did, of course), to do weird stuff to my friends (rigging up a net filled with god-knows-what to a trip line over our heavily wooded, 1/4 mile long drive way that would expel it's foul contents onto whichever car tripped said line.....It was hilarious until my friend drove me home in his dad's '69 Camero and we got to wash a car at midnight) and generally had a great time, even though we never got any trick-or-treaters.

Anyway, he's not here to rally the troops (but if he decided to make a cameo, today would be a fitting day to do so.) and I really just don't care any more.

I hate all holidays, which is something that I've touched on here before. It's like a slowly descending scale--Halloween, eh. Thanksgiving, ugh. Christmas? UUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHHeh. (That's the sound of apathetic hatred, which is my newest fave oxymoron.)

Whatever.

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My house is dirty. I just need to get off my ass and do something about it (the kitchen and bathrooms are clean!) but the idea of folding that much laundry makes me shudder.

Yesterday was my official last day at the bakery. Everyone (aside from the people that matter) accused me of having a 'bad attitude', which, in my brain, doesn't even scratch the surface when it comes to my feelings on that place. Whatever, I'm free, I'm unemployed. Unemployed. Sigh.

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So in the magic that is social networking, a friend of mine from long, long ago has resurfaced. We were like, best friends as kids. Sat next to me in band (this now makes me still friends with all 3 guys that were in my section in band through Jr. High and HS. Says something about the power of dorkiness.) for years. We then went through puberty, stayed friends, only now we were make-out buddies, as teenagers are wont to be. (I remember he had braces and that caused a few problems. Ha!) He played football with T, we were all friends, and this was a long, long time ago. (I thought we were all friends. More on that in a moment.)

I haven't spoken with this person for very nearly 10 years until a few days ago. When I came back to watch my class graduate from my old school (I was already all grad-u-ma-cated and stuff from my new school in the state we don't mention) I ran into him there. He had just finished his Freshman year of college, blah, blah, blah, and he said to me: "I think our friendship would really benefit if you sucked my dick."

Thus ended the friendship.

I ran into him a few years later when I was in the middle of my beautiful and tragic love affair with drugs, and he didn't recognize me.

Anyway. None of that really matters.

So he appears on my friend request list on said social networking site. I agree to be his friend. He pops up in my chat screen thing. Tells me he's married, (to a child, imo, but that's neither here nor there.) he's just quit working as a sous chef, he lives in the city. He wants to get together with T and me, wants us to meet his wife, to catch up. I think this is a fine idea.

I mention it to T.

T, as we all know, is a calm, kind person. Very logical, doesn't let his emotions sully his actions. He rarely loses his temper, never gets vindictive.

Aside from now.

I tell T, and he FLIPS OUT! It was hilarious.

"Oh, we're going to meet them. Yes. And we're going to look HOT and I'm going to show him FINALLY that I WIN and he SUCKS and you and I are MARRIED and there's nothing he can do about it and we OWN our HOME and we had a REAL wedding and we have a NICE CAR and you have an AWESOME wedding ring and YES. When does he want to do this?"

I stood there in stunned silence.

"Honey? Is there something you're not telling me? I thought you were friends too....?"

"NO! The entire time I've known him! It was always 'Anything you can do I can do better'! You're the ONLY girl I ever dated that he didn't date too! And he tried to date you! Tried! Lorded your friendship over me! Rubbed it in my face after we broke up! Tried to outshine me on the football field! Got a scholarship to a big deal college and rubbed that in my face too! A GOLF SCHOLARSHIP!!!! GOLF!"

Rather than telling T that golf is a real sport and yes, you can get college scholarships for that, that no, I didn't date this person, that I'm sorry for everything he put him through, I said nothing.

After a few minutes, I said, "Honey. Do you really want to see him again, for old times sake, like I do, or do you seriously just want to lord our life over him? Because, well. Uhm, I don't know if that's the best idea."

"WE ARE GOING. AND WE WILL LOOK HOT. And yes, we are going for old times sake, with a SIDE OF I AM BETTER THAN YOU."

So we are. Sigh.

I think this is really funny. I shouldn't, but I do. I had NO idea that these two had anything but ok-ness between them, that I had factored into this in any way.

Idk. Maybe it's not a great idea. But I actually would like to see him (especially since he's no longer asking me to fellate him in order to remain friends) and catch up. And if T comes away from it with a little more confidence, an old 'score' being settled, in his mind, what's the harm? So long as he doesn't explode at dinner or something.

Weird.

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I cried at a high school football game last night. It was T's baby brother's last game of his senior year, and they were playing the rival school. They introduced the senior band members, cheerleaders, and football players, and their parents. I remembered when that was me, sitting in cold bleachers with my friends (stand partners with my maid of honor, actually), being rowdy (it was pep band. It's part of the deal) watching my future husband play football. How different I was then, how different we all were. How my parents would come to the games to hear the band, to watch us do field routines, how I had my whole life ahead of me.

And then, watching T's mom and brother walk out onto the field arm and arm, watching him give her flowers...Yeah.

So dumb.

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In closing, this picture makes me laugh until I cry. Have fun!