Weight: 21-something lbs lighter
Mood: Bloated
Listening To: Dancing With the Stars
Not long ago I met someone who is a member of Overeater's Anonymous. It was a rather interesting treat for me because I had never met anyone from OA before and he told me that his triggers were sugar and something else. This made me begin to wonder about my delectable affair with sugar, myself. After a few hours of wondering about it, I managed to put it out of my head until I was on the ride home tonight from a parent's night at one of my high schools.
You see, I had been doing rather well on my diet and work out up until the weekend with the Aussies. I mean dam can those people drink and eat and somehow, someway stay skinny . . . . I forced Brian to leave the party at 1am, but they were still in full swing - almost like they had just been warming up the entire day and most of the evening. Oye.
Well, I kinda let myself go that weekend. I told my trainer I wasn't going to work out Friday - Sunday because I could tell I was getting exhausted and needed a break. (It's now Tuesday and I have yet to get on an elliptical)So my trainer kicked my ass on Thursday like it had never been kicked before and I was out the door, shaking and almost in tears. Looking back on the weekend, I really didn't do THAT bad. I had some healthy choice mixed in with some bad choices. It's not like I went crazy and sucked on bacon all day, every day. Sure, the 10 or so drinks I poured down my throat might not have been a good idea, but that's cool. I was just tryin' to keep up. Now that I'm back in town, it's back on track, right?? Oh, so wrong . . .
It started when Brian DRAGGED me to Taco Bell to try the black tacos. (Rating = neh . . . ) I told him - last fatty meal, okay?? I knew I was lying when I said it . . . . then today happened. Breakfast wasn't all that bad. Lunch wasn't all that bad . . . then I made it to the college campus, where I was going to make camp for 3 or so hours before the parent's night at the High School. As soon as I pulled into campus, I heard them . . . .
"Hey . . . . hhheeeeeyyy . . . Did you forget about us?? We're in the student store, still. We're still waiting for you. Little cups of peanut butter hugged in chocolate. One or two bites won't hurt you, you know. We're still here and you have cash in your pocket. You won't even have to use your card!" I tried to fight it, I tried to ignore it but the voice just grew louder the closer I got to the student store, and hey - my office is right next to the student store. It's true, one or two can't hurt. Before I knew it, I had three little wrappers sitting on the desk in front of me as I was checking my farm on facebook.
My boss had to shut the office down earlier than I expected, so I went down to the information desk to hang out with the students who work down there. On my way down, I heard a different little voice. "Hey . . . . hhhheeeyyyy . . . . remember us, Mr. flamin' hot cheetos? Remember when you first started working here and you pulled some shifts at the info desk and we first met? Yeah, it was pretty memorable for me, too. You know we haven't talked in a long time and I heard you were going to be visiting me soon. Do you have any idea when that will be, because, well, I miss you." I tried to tell that little voice that I had one and a half more pounds left before we could sit down and visit and this is what it told me: "That's taking too long. I think you should just give it up and come and have a visit. You know you will eventually get there, but I want to visit now." As I rounded the corner of the information desk, I saw it. I saw what was going to make me break and the voice said to me "Oh, I see you haven't met my sister Miss BAKED flamin' hot cheetos. I think you two should meet." The next thing I knew. I was wiping bright orange powder from my hands and catching a look at the cookies my co-worker had brought with her. By then, any sense of reason was gone and as soon as a voice in my head said "Those look good!" another voice said "You have another dollar in your pocket."
There was more debauchery that surrounds the evenings gluttonous behavior, and as I was driving myself home I was reminiscing about all of the crap that I had put into my body and certain phrases like "You spend way too much money on a trainer to do this." and "You do way too much work with your trainer to revert back to this" and "You know you're not going to reach your goal. You need food with nutrition!" I began to think about eating real food. Food with some substance to it and I remembered this amazing noodle dish I got from Mao's kitchen a few days before and 'accidently' left the leftovers behind . . . . I started to actually taste it in my mouth, feel the noodles run over my tongue and the sponginess of the eggs. Then I debated whether or not to take Brian out to dinner that night "just because."
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Cheetos and Noodles
Monday, September 21, 2009
An Open Letter to Myself
Dear Self:
We need to talk. You know this has been a long time coming. You didn't really think you would get away with all those trips to the candy store for long, did you? I totally understand that losing weight is no easy task, but let's face it - you've gotten a little off track and we need to get this crazy train back to where it belongs before you are back to where you started. I'll give you this - you're amazing at maintaining your weight. With all the candy bars, coffees and things fried you've managed not to gain anything back . . . . . yet. But let's be serious - you're still a little fatty around the curves and that just won't do.
This all really began with the college, didn't it? You totally forgot what undergrad was like. The undergrad where you gained 15 pounds, but hell you could have stood to gain some at that point. That trip was filled with top ramen, Swanson dinners and my personal favorite, rice-a-roni. This new trip around the undergrad block? Well, it's been filled with Reeses peanut butter cups, flamin' hot cheetos and countless numbers of coffee well diluted in half and half. Oh, and the occasional cookie.
Remember that day when the candy first came to you? You had been doing so well; you were off your first plateau and on your way to your goal. Then she did it. That new boss of yours, bless her heart, opted for ice breakers to get everyone to know each other. All of which seemed to involve candy. Now, we both know you have issues when it comes to candy. We both know you can't control your hands. The best thing would have been to sit on them and push yours to the side. Instead . . . . you ate all of yours . . . . and your neighbors . . . . and then dove into the bucket full of candy until you found yourself surrounded by tiny little wrappers, lost in what everyone was talking about and wondering how to hide the evidence.
But it didn't stop there, did it. The co-worker of yours that reminds you of Mari, yeah, she showed you where to get MORE candy. The smart thing would have been to say no thank you and never even look in the spot. But you didn't do that, did you? You clicked your heels three times and said "There's nothing like candy, there's nothing like candy." And you were brought to the candy. Each individually wrapped and in deceivingly small servings. Each perfectly sweet, charming piece of candy was your new buffet. This was the beginning of that downhill spiral.
You've been all over the map since then, haven't you? Scoffing in the face of fat and calories and daring them to a fight. Well, you've officially stopped winning; I just thought I should let you know. You were ALMOST on belt loop 4 . . . . well, now that's starting to get tight. So you are officially on lock down. No more fried foods. No more candy. No more fatty foods. This affair of yours, it's over.
You're getting back on the workout track and here is what we have to address straight out - I know you hate the elliptical downstairs. You really gave it its fair shot in liking it, and really it's the only one you've ever felt real hatred for. And you know what? That's ruining your groove thing. You are going to have to learn to put up with it at least twice a week. No exceptions. We both know you are not going to leave the comfort of your apartment to get in your car and drive to the gym, so you might as well make friendly with the elliptical downstairs.
Oh, and every little thing you put in your mouth will be counted. You are paying way too much money for that trainer of yours to not count every little thing. Every french fry you steal every candy bar you say "Oh, well, this is small, it really won't count." Guess what, it does now.
You will reach your goal in February. You will be a skinny bitch once more. And to show I'm not a bad guy - I'll even throw in the fair at no extra . . . . well . . . let's just say I won't be that much of a bitch about it. But past that, welcome to your new hell. So pull up a chair, or should I say elliptical machine, and stay awhile because if I have anything to do with it, which I now will, you will be a skinny bitch.......
We need to talk. You know this has been a long time coming. You didn't really think you would get away with all those trips to the candy store for long, did you? I totally understand that losing weight is no easy task, but let's face it - you've gotten a little off track and we need to get this crazy train back to where it belongs before you are back to where you started. I'll give you this - you're amazing at maintaining your weight. With all the candy bars, coffees and things fried you've managed not to gain anything back . . . . . yet. But let's be serious - you're still a little fatty around the curves and that just won't do.
This all really began with the college, didn't it? You totally forgot what undergrad was like. The undergrad where you gained 15 pounds, but hell you could have stood to gain some at that point. That trip was filled with top ramen, Swanson dinners and my personal favorite, rice-a-roni. This new trip around the undergrad block? Well, it's been filled with Reeses peanut butter cups, flamin' hot cheetos and countless numbers of coffee well diluted in half and half. Oh, and the occasional cookie.
Remember that day when the candy first came to you? You had been doing so well; you were off your first plateau and on your way to your goal. Then she did it. That new boss of yours, bless her heart, opted for ice breakers to get everyone to know each other. All of which seemed to involve candy. Now, we both know you have issues when it comes to candy. We both know you can't control your hands. The best thing would have been to sit on them and push yours to the side. Instead . . . . you ate all of yours . . . . and your neighbors . . . . and then dove into the bucket full of candy until you found yourself surrounded by tiny little wrappers, lost in what everyone was talking about and wondering how to hide the evidence.
But it didn't stop there, did it. The co-worker of yours that reminds you of Mari, yeah, she showed you where to get MORE candy. The smart thing would have been to say no thank you and never even look in the spot. But you didn't do that, did you? You clicked your heels three times and said "There's nothing like candy, there's nothing like candy." And you were brought to the candy. Each individually wrapped and in deceivingly small servings. Each perfectly sweet, charming piece of candy was your new buffet. This was the beginning of that downhill spiral.
You've been all over the map since then, haven't you? Scoffing in the face of fat and calories and daring them to a fight. Well, you've officially stopped winning; I just thought I should let you know. You were ALMOST on belt loop 4 . . . . well, now that's starting to get tight. So you are officially on lock down. No more fried foods. No more candy. No more fatty foods. This affair of yours, it's over.
You're getting back on the workout track and here is what we have to address straight out - I know you hate the elliptical downstairs. You really gave it its fair shot in liking it, and really it's the only one you've ever felt real hatred for. And you know what? That's ruining your groove thing. You are going to have to learn to put up with it at least twice a week. No exceptions. We both know you are not going to leave the comfort of your apartment to get in your car and drive to the gym, so you might as well make friendly with the elliptical downstairs.
Oh, and every little thing you put in your mouth will be counted. You are paying way too much money for that trainer of yours to not count every little thing. Every french fry you steal every candy bar you say "Oh, well, this is small, it really won't count." Guess what, it does now.
You will reach your goal in February. You will be a skinny bitch once more. And to show I'm not a bad guy - I'll even throw in the fair at no extra . . . . well . . . let's just say I won't be that much of a bitch about it. But past that, welcome to your new hell. So pull up a chair, or should I say elliptical machine, and stay awhile because if I have anything to do with it, which I now will, you will be a skinny bitch.......
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Panties and Chocolates
Weight: 19.6lbs lighter
Mood: So Frustrated I Could Cry
Listening To: Money Fly Out of My Pocket and the Maintenance Guys Fixing My Air Conditioner
This past week, I worked every day at the college where I now have a part-time job. Since it was the first week of school, the hours were really full time and I worked in the sweltering heat of the valley, at times with no air conditioning. I kind of got screwed on my hours, working 10:30 - 7:30, leaving no time to really work out or to spend with Brian, considering the hour drive there and back in okay traffic. Since the week was so hectic, my feet hurt and I developed this kink in my neck, which meant I could no longer turn my head to the right, I made an appointment at the spa to relax and recover. Brian had just as hard of a week, so I also decided to surprise him with an appointment for a massage, too.
The alarm went off early in the morning today, but not too early as to be devastating. By now Brian knew where we were going, and he returned from an early morning workout so we could get on our way. I declined the breakfast sandwich he was making because working at the college had made it so I had eaten all sorts of crap and had practically fallen off of the wagon. I reeeealllly needed to get back on track. So I had my weight watchers frozen sandwich and a glass of milk. We checked into the spa, and when I went to my locker I discovered it was a lower half locker. As I walked back to the front desk to request a full locker, I wondered why they would give out half lockers on a day where practically no one was there. I didn't really think much more of it when they handed me a key to a full locker with a smile. I took some time and rested in the Jacuzzi, looking forward to the 80 minute massage I was about to get.
When the clock hit 11:30, I met with my would-be therapist and thought she had a little bit of a strange vibe, but whatever, I just hope she's good! I went over with her things that were bothering me - I have this kink in my neck to where when I turn my head right it hurts. Where is it? Oh, it runs right along here. My lower back also hurts when I lay on my belly. Not sure why, but it always does. Yes, I do have a curved back. Oh, and I've been working out a lot so my feet have really been hurting me. As I laid down on the table and felt my lower back cramp, I couldn't wait to get started. She really dug into my neck and shoulder to work out that kink. I can't lie, it felt great. I can't wait until she gets to my lower back.......huh......does she think that's my lower back? That's more like my middle back. This is a reputable place; she has to know that's not considered the lower back. I'll just wait and be patient. What's that you say? Time to flip over? Huh. Well, I guess you do think you hit the lower back area, unless you have some other tricks up your sleeve. I at least hope you do some foot work because I've been dying for it. Oh, yup, there's my foot! And there it went. That's all the work you are going to do? Really? Can't be. I mean, really, it can't. What's that? The massage is over? Well, I guess it can be. Yeah, you were great.....really.
While I sat in the Jacuzzi again, letting the bubbles run over my skin, I tried not to get totally frustrated when I thought about the two spots she missed, that I really wanted her to work on, and the almost $200 it cost me. I mean, really, the massage was really good. In all, I enjoyed it. I can always go to the local massage place and drop $60 for an hour massage to get those areas worked on. Didn't really plan for that, though. But overall the massage was good and I am relaxed. I could nap right now.
Once I paid the bill and met up with Brian, I suggested we go to lunch because I was starving. We sat down at a local deli and I passed up on the sandwiches and pasta for a cup of veggie soup and a Chinese chicken salad, tossed please. The veggie soup came and it was good, with the exception of the mushrooms I had to pick out of it. I've never known anyone to put mushrooms in a veggie soup, but to each their own. Huh, no crackers.....just as well. It would just me extra points that I don't need. Ah, there is my salad. Huh, doesn't look like it's tossed. No matter, it's still edible. Huh, that bite didn't have any dressing on it. Well, there has to be dressing somewhere. Nope, not there. Oh, piece of chicken, I'll give that a bite while I search for the dressing. Oh crap, that was a bite of cartilage! GROSS! I'm spitting that out, sorry for the grossness Brian. Still not finding any dressing in here. Where the hell is the waiter? Um, I'm sorry sir but there is no dressing on the salad. Do I want a side of it? I just want dressing on the salad, so fix it. Hmmmm.....I'll eat some of Brian's fries while I wait. Gawd I've had a lot of fries. I need to create a barricade with the water. Ah, there is my salad and this time, I can smell the dressing on it! This is gonna be good! Wait a minute. How much dressing did they put on it? A teaspoon? It's barely there! I can't believe this crap. Now I really am gonna have to ask for a side of dressing and this guy is going to think I am crazy. Okay, calm, breath. It's just dressing it's cool, people do it all the time. Excuse me, sir; can I have a side of dressing please? Oh, thank you. Now I'll just smother that in dressing. There is the salad I was looking for!
Once lunch was over, I decided to take Brian by the local Vickie's Secret. Since I've been on the, eh-hem, bigger side of things my cute little panties don't fit any more. But, since I've lost some weight, I have four cute pairs that fit, one of which is falling apart, and I'm tired of rotating through them. I knew the cuts I was looking for, which are pretty common cuts, so we could totally find a few pairs. As soon as I got to the store, I scanned through the offerings and found one of the two cuts I was looking for. Awesome! It's the cut I really wanted, too. Let's go pick out some colors! Hey, wait a minute. Does that sign really say "One Size Fits All"? You've got to be kidding me. Maybe it's just this section. Nope, it's all of them. Again, you have got to be kidding me. Not only am I shocked that a store of this caliber would try to pull that kind of shit, but I can tell you right now, that what fits a size two in no way will fit my size large-ass. Gawd. Are they really pulling this shit? Maybe I can make it work. How big do these stretch out to? Well, maybe that will fit. Huh. Maybe if I hold it to my hips, it'll give me good news that they will fit. Nope, nope, nope. The only way these things will fit is if they are stretched out all the way, all day long. GUESS WHAT VICKIE!!!!???? THAT MEANS ONE SIZE DOESN'T FIT ALL, YOU BITCH!!!! As I left the store, feeling utterly betrayed, I thought maybe if we checked into a few more store fronts we could find what I'm looking for. Nope, nothing there. They don't sell panties here. Oh, look! Kittens!!! That'll brighten up my day a little bit!
It's not uncommon in this part of town for people to bring live acts out onto the street, or to ask for help for their organization. With the way my day had been going, seeing a cute little kitten play or just looking at them could really help turn it around, because fuck if things just aren't really going my way today. As I approached the cages, I saw the sweetest little calico kitten, and immediately told Brian I wanted it. He pointed out a Chester kitten and my heart just sank. They were so sweet, napping, licking themselves clean and playing with the papers stuck to the cage, gawd I wanted to take one home, and just seeing their sweet little faces was starting to turn my day around. Then the lady behind the cages started yelling at all of us about how we should donate money so they could pay their vet bills among other things. Her yelling at all of us blocked my ray of sunshine that was the kittens and I just had to walk away. It's true that I wanted to pull out my wallet and donate to them, and by now I was thinking that my money was misplaced in the massage I got earlier. But you know what else was true? My job is part time and pays crap. I don't even know if I can do the $60 to cover for the make-up massage. ::sigh:: I just wanted to see the kittens and this bitch ruined it.
At this point, I really needed to turn this day around. I mean, really, massage - okay but not great. Soup - had to pick out the mushrooms. Salad - no dressing. Panties - one size fits all. Kittens - bitchy handler. Maybe if I got a bite or two of chocolate from the local chocolatier. C'mon Brian - if there is one thing in this world that will cheer a girl up and put her day back on track, it's a bite of good, delicious chocolate. As we walked into the chocolatier there was a lady talking to the singular man behind the counter. She needed a full description of EVERYTHING on the menu. I was starting to feel my patience wane, but told myself to calm down. Sometimes people need some explaining, you know you've been there. It will be your turn in just a minute. I looked over the chocolates sitting behind the case, but no description was available to tell me what they were. Clearly, this was no Godiva, but what I was looking for was simple, easy. There is no way they couldn't have it. As I could tell my patience was growing less and less, the guy behind the counter looked over at all of us in line and asked if we were paying cash or credit. Before I could say anything, the man behind me said "credit" and the guy behind the counter said "okay." Huh. That was weird. I mean, I'm the next in line. Does he not care what my response is. I mean, I could go cash or credit. And why would he talk to the man behind me, and not me, the next person in line. Maybe it was just a general question to acknowledge we were all standing there. Or maybe he's a sexist.....no, no, girl. Benefit of the doubt. It was just a general question.
Once he finished up with the lady in front of me, he came over to the chocolate case and began to put on a glove, and also continued with his conversation with the man behind me, not once looking at me as I stared directly into his eyes. Okay, so he's telling the guy that he's low on cash and that's why he was asking the question. He hasn't yet asked anyone what their order is, and if this asshole behind the counter thinks he is going to "pass over the little lady and talk directly to the man" I am going to go the fuck off. And if this asshole thinks he is going to trump me in line just because he is a man, I am going to go the fuck off. So go ahead, jerk off, put on the glove. Let's see you do it because I will bring the wrath of hell to your doorstep for your sexist behavior. One step, dare you. Just as I could feel my blood boil and the darts in my eyes take aim, someone else came onto shift and he asked her to take over, because hey, he had to go on break as he explained to the man behind me. At least she had some sense, and knew I was next in line. One chocolate and caramel, please. What's that? You're sold out? Okay, common flavor it's cool. How about some sort of chocolate on chocolate, like a chocolate truffle? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T MAKE ANYTHING THAT IS ALL CHOCOLATE???? YOU ARE A FUCKING CHOCOLATIER!!! IT'S WHAT YOU DO!!!!!!!!!!! FUCK YOU ALL, I'M GOING HOME!!!!
And with that, I was on the street corner yelling at Brian to take me home. I sat quietly in the car, knowing that no matter what I said or what I suggested at this point, it would just go to crap. It was traffic almost the entire way home, until Brian jumped off onto a side street that I didn't suggest. He asked if maybe my new favorite would make me feel better? Frozen Peanut Butter Yogurt topped off with chocolate peanut butter bits. I knew what would happen if I went, some bitch who got there 2 minutes before me would decide she needed an extra large size of peanut butter flavor and stand there, filling up her extra large cup, while I sat there tapping my foot, not believing the kind of shitty luck I had. By the time I got to the flavor, it would have almost been tapped, to the point where I was getting the scrapings of the barrel where the fro-yo had the consistency of something between a slushee and fro-yo. Hey, it's happened before. So either that, or they will be out of the chocolate peanut butter pieces that I love so much. Or a combination of the two. So, no, take me home.
As we walked down the hallway to our place, I just caught glimpse of our repair guys who decided to finally come and fix our air conditioner. At 4:50pm on a Sunday. I stood out in the hallway, yelling at the ceiling, WHY GAWD, WHY?????? I let Brian deal with it, as I sat down on the couch with my computer, unable to turn on the air conditioner and unable to open up a window because of the lack of a screen. Let's face it - with my luck at this point, something with a stinger would fly right in and decide that somewhere on my body would be a good place to plant the stinger.
So I'm writing this, sweating on my couch, feeling my $200 massage melt away as I can once again no longer turn my head to the right. I've already explained to Brian that the plan for the rest of my day is to drink, and drink heavily. I'm lucky that he laughed at me and ran to the store to get groceries of the rest of the week. While he's been gone, I've discovered that he's emptied the dishwasher, made the bed and left a sweet little card on our bed that I have yet to read. On this, the day of our six-year anniversary, I realize that I really do have the best guy ever.
Mood: So Frustrated I Could Cry
Listening To: Money Fly Out of My Pocket and the Maintenance Guys Fixing My Air Conditioner
This past week, I worked every day at the college where I now have a part-time job. Since it was the first week of school, the hours were really full time and I worked in the sweltering heat of the valley, at times with no air conditioning. I kind of got screwed on my hours, working 10:30 - 7:30, leaving no time to really work out or to spend with Brian, considering the hour drive there and back in okay traffic. Since the week was so hectic, my feet hurt and I developed this kink in my neck, which meant I could no longer turn my head to the right, I made an appointment at the spa to relax and recover. Brian had just as hard of a week, so I also decided to surprise him with an appointment for a massage, too.
The alarm went off early in the morning today, but not too early as to be devastating. By now Brian knew where we were going, and he returned from an early morning workout so we could get on our way. I declined the breakfast sandwich he was making because working at the college had made it so I had eaten all sorts of crap and had practically fallen off of the wagon. I reeeealllly needed to get back on track. So I had my weight watchers frozen sandwich and a glass of milk. We checked into the spa, and when I went to my locker I discovered it was a lower half locker. As I walked back to the front desk to request a full locker, I wondered why they would give out half lockers on a day where practically no one was there. I didn't really think much more of it when they handed me a key to a full locker with a smile. I took some time and rested in the Jacuzzi, looking forward to the 80 minute massage I was about to get.
When the clock hit 11:30, I met with my would-be therapist and thought she had a little bit of a strange vibe, but whatever, I just hope she's good! I went over with her things that were bothering me - I have this kink in my neck to where when I turn my head right it hurts. Where is it? Oh, it runs right along here. My lower back also hurts when I lay on my belly. Not sure why, but it always does. Yes, I do have a curved back. Oh, and I've been working out a lot so my feet have really been hurting me. As I laid down on the table and felt my lower back cramp, I couldn't wait to get started. She really dug into my neck and shoulder to work out that kink. I can't lie, it felt great. I can't wait until she gets to my lower back.......huh......does she think that's my lower back? That's more like my middle back. This is a reputable place; she has to know that's not considered the lower back. I'll just wait and be patient. What's that you say? Time to flip over? Huh. Well, I guess you do think you hit the lower back area, unless you have some other tricks up your sleeve. I at least hope you do some foot work because I've been dying for it. Oh, yup, there's my foot! And there it went. That's all the work you are going to do? Really? Can't be. I mean, really, it can't. What's that? The massage is over? Well, I guess it can be. Yeah, you were great.....really.
While I sat in the Jacuzzi again, letting the bubbles run over my skin, I tried not to get totally frustrated when I thought about the two spots she missed, that I really wanted her to work on, and the almost $200 it cost me. I mean, really, the massage was really good. In all, I enjoyed it. I can always go to the local massage place and drop $60 for an hour massage to get those areas worked on. Didn't really plan for that, though. But overall the massage was good and I am relaxed. I could nap right now.
Once I paid the bill and met up with Brian, I suggested we go to lunch because I was starving. We sat down at a local deli and I passed up on the sandwiches and pasta for a cup of veggie soup and a Chinese chicken salad, tossed please. The veggie soup came and it was good, with the exception of the mushrooms I had to pick out of it. I've never known anyone to put mushrooms in a veggie soup, but to each their own. Huh, no crackers.....just as well. It would just me extra points that I don't need. Ah, there is my salad. Huh, doesn't look like it's tossed. No matter, it's still edible. Huh, that bite didn't have any dressing on it. Well, there has to be dressing somewhere. Nope, not there. Oh, piece of chicken, I'll give that a bite while I search for the dressing. Oh crap, that was a bite of cartilage! GROSS! I'm spitting that out, sorry for the grossness Brian. Still not finding any dressing in here. Where the hell is the waiter? Um, I'm sorry sir but there is no dressing on the salad. Do I want a side of it? I just want dressing on the salad, so fix it. Hmmmm.....I'll eat some of Brian's fries while I wait. Gawd I've had a lot of fries. I need to create a barricade with the water. Ah, there is my salad and this time, I can smell the dressing on it! This is gonna be good! Wait a minute. How much dressing did they put on it? A teaspoon? It's barely there! I can't believe this crap. Now I really am gonna have to ask for a side of dressing and this guy is going to think I am crazy. Okay, calm, breath. It's just dressing it's cool, people do it all the time. Excuse me, sir; can I have a side of dressing please? Oh, thank you. Now I'll just smother that in dressing. There is the salad I was looking for!
Once lunch was over, I decided to take Brian by the local Vickie's Secret. Since I've been on the, eh-hem, bigger side of things my cute little panties don't fit any more. But, since I've lost some weight, I have four cute pairs that fit, one of which is falling apart, and I'm tired of rotating through them. I knew the cuts I was looking for, which are pretty common cuts, so we could totally find a few pairs. As soon as I got to the store, I scanned through the offerings and found one of the two cuts I was looking for. Awesome! It's the cut I really wanted, too. Let's go pick out some colors! Hey, wait a minute. Does that sign really say "One Size Fits All"? You've got to be kidding me. Maybe it's just this section. Nope, it's all of them. Again, you have got to be kidding me. Not only am I shocked that a store of this caliber would try to pull that kind of shit, but I can tell you right now, that what fits a size two in no way will fit my size large-ass. Gawd. Are they really pulling this shit? Maybe I can make it work. How big do these stretch out to? Well, maybe that will fit. Huh. Maybe if I hold it to my hips, it'll give me good news that they will fit. Nope, nope, nope. The only way these things will fit is if they are stretched out all the way, all day long. GUESS WHAT VICKIE!!!!???? THAT MEANS ONE SIZE DOESN'T FIT ALL, YOU BITCH!!!! As I left the store, feeling utterly betrayed, I thought maybe if we checked into a few more store fronts we could find what I'm looking for. Nope, nothing there. They don't sell panties here. Oh, look! Kittens!!! That'll brighten up my day a little bit!
It's not uncommon in this part of town for people to bring live acts out onto the street, or to ask for help for their organization. With the way my day had been going, seeing a cute little kitten play or just looking at them could really help turn it around, because fuck if things just aren't really going my way today. As I approached the cages, I saw the sweetest little calico kitten, and immediately told Brian I wanted it. He pointed out a Chester kitten and my heart just sank. They were so sweet, napping, licking themselves clean and playing with the papers stuck to the cage, gawd I wanted to take one home, and just seeing their sweet little faces was starting to turn my day around. Then the lady behind the cages started yelling at all of us about how we should donate money so they could pay their vet bills among other things. Her yelling at all of us blocked my ray of sunshine that was the kittens and I just had to walk away. It's true that I wanted to pull out my wallet and donate to them, and by now I was thinking that my money was misplaced in the massage I got earlier. But you know what else was true? My job is part time and pays crap. I don't even know if I can do the $60 to cover for the make-up massage. ::sigh:: I just wanted to see the kittens and this bitch ruined it.
At this point, I really needed to turn this day around. I mean, really, massage - okay but not great. Soup - had to pick out the mushrooms. Salad - no dressing. Panties - one size fits all. Kittens - bitchy handler. Maybe if I got a bite or two of chocolate from the local chocolatier. C'mon Brian - if there is one thing in this world that will cheer a girl up and put her day back on track, it's a bite of good, delicious chocolate. As we walked into the chocolatier there was a lady talking to the singular man behind the counter. She needed a full description of EVERYTHING on the menu. I was starting to feel my patience wane, but told myself to calm down. Sometimes people need some explaining, you know you've been there. It will be your turn in just a minute. I looked over the chocolates sitting behind the case, but no description was available to tell me what they were. Clearly, this was no Godiva, but what I was looking for was simple, easy. There is no way they couldn't have it. As I could tell my patience was growing less and less, the guy behind the counter looked over at all of us in line and asked if we were paying cash or credit. Before I could say anything, the man behind me said "credit" and the guy behind the counter said "okay." Huh. That was weird. I mean, I'm the next in line. Does he not care what my response is. I mean, I could go cash or credit. And why would he talk to the man behind me, and not me, the next person in line. Maybe it was just a general question to acknowledge we were all standing there. Or maybe he's a sexist.....no, no, girl. Benefit of the doubt. It was just a general question.
Once he finished up with the lady in front of me, he came over to the chocolate case and began to put on a glove, and also continued with his conversation with the man behind me, not once looking at me as I stared directly into his eyes. Okay, so he's telling the guy that he's low on cash and that's why he was asking the question. He hasn't yet asked anyone what their order is, and if this asshole behind the counter thinks he is going to "pass over the little lady and talk directly to the man" I am going to go the fuck off. And if this asshole thinks he is going to trump me in line just because he is a man, I am going to go the fuck off. So go ahead, jerk off, put on the glove. Let's see you do it because I will bring the wrath of hell to your doorstep for your sexist behavior. One step, dare you. Just as I could feel my blood boil and the darts in my eyes take aim, someone else came onto shift and he asked her to take over, because hey, he had to go on break as he explained to the man behind me. At least she had some sense, and knew I was next in line. One chocolate and caramel, please. What's that? You're sold out? Okay, common flavor it's cool. How about some sort of chocolate on chocolate, like a chocolate truffle? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T MAKE ANYTHING THAT IS ALL CHOCOLATE???? YOU ARE A FUCKING CHOCOLATIER!!! IT'S WHAT YOU DO!!!!!!!!!!! FUCK YOU ALL, I'M GOING HOME!!!!
And with that, I was on the street corner yelling at Brian to take me home. I sat quietly in the car, knowing that no matter what I said or what I suggested at this point, it would just go to crap. It was traffic almost the entire way home, until Brian jumped off onto a side street that I didn't suggest. He asked if maybe my new favorite would make me feel better? Frozen Peanut Butter Yogurt topped off with chocolate peanut butter bits. I knew what would happen if I went, some bitch who got there 2 minutes before me would decide she needed an extra large size of peanut butter flavor and stand there, filling up her extra large cup, while I sat there tapping my foot, not believing the kind of shitty luck I had. By the time I got to the flavor, it would have almost been tapped, to the point where I was getting the scrapings of the barrel where the fro-yo had the consistency of something between a slushee and fro-yo. Hey, it's happened before. So either that, or they will be out of the chocolate peanut butter pieces that I love so much. Or a combination of the two. So, no, take me home.
As we walked down the hallway to our place, I just caught glimpse of our repair guys who decided to finally come and fix our air conditioner. At 4:50pm on a Sunday. I stood out in the hallway, yelling at the ceiling, WHY GAWD, WHY?????? I let Brian deal with it, as I sat down on the couch with my computer, unable to turn on the air conditioner and unable to open up a window because of the lack of a screen. Let's face it - with my luck at this point, something with a stinger would fly right in and decide that somewhere on my body would be a good place to plant the stinger.
So I'm writing this, sweating on my couch, feeling my $200 massage melt away as I can once again no longer turn my head to the right. I've already explained to Brian that the plan for the rest of my day is to drink, and drink heavily. I'm lucky that he laughed at me and ran to the store to get groceries of the rest of the week. While he's been gone, I've discovered that he's emptied the dishwasher, made the bed and left a sweet little card on our bed that I have yet to read. On this, the day of our six-year anniversary, I realize that I really do have the best guy ever.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Protien Shakes and Pretzels
Any girl that knows anything about hair, knows two things: 1) It's bad to wash it every day and 2) the day after a blow dry, your scalp is usually oily and you have to get creative if you plan on having that look another day. During one of my many lay out sessions by the pool since I've been unemployed, I found an item listed is the "best of" section of one of my magazines. It was called shampowder. Huh . . . . . a waterless shampoo that extends the life of your hairstyle by sopping up all that oil. Huh . . . . So I researched it online and found that a beauty supply store was right down the street from my new work. Little did I know that this supply store was in the mall.
I love the mall. So many things to look at and so many things to . . . . . eat. Crap. I love mall food. Really, it's my favorite. Sabarro, Auntie Anne’s, Mrs. Fields. I'm into all of it. I didn't quite anticipate walking by all of these store fronts, and I certainly didn't anticipate how wonderful they would all smell. As I turned one corner, I was immediately assaulted with the smell of fresh baked pretzels from Wetzel’s Pretzels. Oh that smells so good. I could feel the warm, soft pretzel in my hand, and taste the gooey, buttery cheese hitting every inch of my mouth with that slight twinge from a grain of salt. There is nothing better. Surely, just one pretzel wouldn't hurt. Remember when you had a pretzel on the way back from the fair? Remember being surprised in how low it points it was? Surely we can work this in to today’s points! Surely! . . . . . . . Then it happened. I heard the other voice and it went a little something like this: Now you remember Saturday? Oh, you don't? Well let me refresh your memory. You STARTED drinking at 2pm. You didn't STOP until midnight-ish. Girl, that was ten hours of drinking! I blame Brian. Oh, but it didn't stop there. You did good at the restaurant. Then you got your hands on those hot dogs, mac salad and cupcakes. If you open up that little weight watchers pamphlet, you will find that there is no wiggle room for the rest of the week. There is no working this in. You're either gonna lose weight, or you're gonna stay a fatty. What's your choice?
I was so offended. How dare that little voice say such hurtful things. But it's right, you know. That hot dog wasn't a turkey dog . . . . but it was good. And the chili I had it covered in. Yeah, I'm into that. Erin makes some mean cupcakes, too! Oh my gawd I feel fat and bloated just thinking about this. KEEP WALKING, KEEP WALKING!
As I rounded the corner, my nose picked up the familiar smell of Mrs. Fields cookies. Oh Mrs. Fields cookies. They had taken the one out of my local mall and this was one of only two locations that I know of in L.A.. You know, we should have at least one because gawd only knows when we are going to get this treat again. I could just get one of the small ones. What is that? Like 2, 3 points? Surely I can work that in. Can I even buy only one little one? I should ask . . . .
NO! WAIT! YOU STOP RIGHT THERE!!! There it was, that little voice again . . . . Do I really need to go through Saturday's menu with you again? You have been the worst dieter ever for the past week and a half! I bet you've even gained weight back!!! You need to knock this off. You're back on the road to fatsville . . . . just when you were starting to look good again and clothes were starting to get loose . . . You suck. I don't want to be on this crazy train.
I held my breath and looked the other way as I passed by. I thought about the apple I ate in the car and the protein shake that I was going to have on the way home. That's nice and chocolaty. That should be yummy. After stopping in two stores in the mall, neither one of them had what I was looking for. Dam them for dragging me into this pit of temptation for nothing.
On the way back to the car, I stopped right where a small arrow pointed the way to the food court. As I walked back and forth in a ten pace area, I thought about Sabarro. I thought about a weight watchers meeting. I thought about Panda. I thought about how loose my clothes have been getting. I thought about hot dog on a stick and I finally walked away, and to my car.
On the way home, I drank my protein shake and although it doesn't measure up to a regular milkshake, it does sit on my tummy like lead. I reassured myself that I would make something at home that would be a yummy lunch. Just for me, and within my point allowance. I did my best at making something yummy, but you know what? I would place my bets that the baked ziti and garlic bread that Sabarro would have been better.
I love the mall. So many things to look at and so many things to . . . . . eat. Crap. I love mall food. Really, it's my favorite. Sabarro, Auntie Anne’s, Mrs. Fields. I'm into all of it. I didn't quite anticipate walking by all of these store fronts, and I certainly didn't anticipate how wonderful they would all smell. As I turned one corner, I was immediately assaulted with the smell of fresh baked pretzels from Wetzel’s Pretzels. Oh that smells so good. I could feel the warm, soft pretzel in my hand, and taste the gooey, buttery cheese hitting every inch of my mouth with that slight twinge from a grain of salt. There is nothing better. Surely, just one pretzel wouldn't hurt. Remember when you had a pretzel on the way back from the fair? Remember being surprised in how low it points it was? Surely we can work this in to today’s points! Surely! . . . . . . . Then it happened. I heard the other voice and it went a little something like this: Now you remember Saturday? Oh, you don't? Well let me refresh your memory. You STARTED drinking at 2pm. You didn't STOP until midnight-ish. Girl, that was ten hours of drinking! I blame Brian. Oh, but it didn't stop there. You did good at the restaurant. Then you got your hands on those hot dogs, mac salad and cupcakes. If you open up that little weight watchers pamphlet, you will find that there is no wiggle room for the rest of the week. There is no working this in. You're either gonna lose weight, or you're gonna stay a fatty. What's your choice?
I was so offended. How dare that little voice say such hurtful things. But it's right, you know. That hot dog wasn't a turkey dog . . . . but it was good. And the chili I had it covered in. Yeah, I'm into that. Erin makes some mean cupcakes, too! Oh my gawd I feel fat and bloated just thinking about this. KEEP WALKING, KEEP WALKING!
As I rounded the corner, my nose picked up the familiar smell of Mrs. Fields cookies. Oh Mrs. Fields cookies. They had taken the one out of my local mall and this was one of only two locations that I know of in L.A.. You know, we should have at least one because gawd only knows when we are going to get this treat again. I could just get one of the small ones. What is that? Like 2, 3 points? Surely I can work that in. Can I even buy only one little one? I should ask . . . .
NO! WAIT! YOU STOP RIGHT THERE!!! There it was, that little voice again . . . . Do I really need to go through Saturday's menu with you again? You have been the worst dieter ever for the past week and a half! I bet you've even gained weight back!!! You need to knock this off. You're back on the road to fatsville . . . . just when you were starting to look good again and clothes were starting to get loose . . . You suck. I don't want to be on this crazy train.
I held my breath and looked the other way as I passed by. I thought about the apple I ate in the car and the protein shake that I was going to have on the way home. That's nice and chocolaty. That should be yummy. After stopping in two stores in the mall, neither one of them had what I was looking for. Dam them for dragging me into this pit of temptation for nothing.
On the way back to the car, I stopped right where a small arrow pointed the way to the food court. As I walked back and forth in a ten pace area, I thought about Sabarro. I thought about a weight watchers meeting. I thought about Panda. I thought about how loose my clothes have been getting. I thought about hot dog on a stick and I finally walked away, and to my car.
On the way home, I drank my protein shake and although it doesn't measure up to a regular milkshake, it does sit on my tummy like lead. I reassured myself that I would make something at home that would be a yummy lunch. Just for me, and within my point allowance. I did my best at making something yummy, but you know what? I would place my bets that the baked ziti and garlic bread that Sabarro would have been better.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
The SoCal Hood
I’ve lived in Los Angeles most of my life, but it hasn’t really been consistent until recently. My parents bounced me and my brother to multiple suburbs in California, finally settling in Irvine for my High School career. Ah Irvine, where the houses are big, the yards are green and all the kids get a car for their sixteenth birthday. I didn’t mind Irvine, I liked it actually. There was always a sense of safety no matter where you went. Along with that sense of safety, you always knew that you were being closely watched just because you were a teenager. I experienced some unwarranted pull-overs by Irvine P.D. because we were a group of teenagers. At the time it pissed me off, but looking back on it, I get it. They were trying to keep gangs and delinquents out of their perfect community.
When I was nineteen I left the Orange Curtain for Los Angeles and have lived here since. In the beginning there were struggles with anxiety of not having that same safe feeling, but I soon nestled into West Los Angeles with the help of my one-generation ahead sister. I found it funny how rap songs always talked about “the life of the Westside”, and found myself living it. I knew it was hard on the Eastside and touched on it every once in awhile. I can’t say I’ve been under exposed, I know what’s out my front door. I know the privilege I continue to live in, and struggle for. I’ve researched, met and talked with people from the Eastside, and I fooled myself into thinking that I get it.
Yeah, there are gangs, I get it. Yeah, you’re a single mom with three kids, I get it. Yeah, you’ve got bills to pay, I get it, so do I. But recently I started working on the Eastside. My first assignment was at a High School in East L.A., and I loved every minute of it. The kids told me about the gangs on campus, but I never found even one member in my office. They were just another kid passing me in the hall. In some of them, I found the poverty I knew so much about and there were times I had to take a moment to myself to fully take in the magnitude of what they were telling me. All I could do was lend a sympathetic ear and attempt to make High School just a little easier for them while giving them the hope and a pathway to something better.
However, the assignment I’m on now has brought me even deeper into “the hood”. Instead of the Hispanic Barrio of East LA, I find myself smack in the middle of the hood of South Central, trying to pull these young children out of the quicksand they find themselves surrounded by. I’ve broken up so many fights in the last three days and seen kids hit and kick at faculty and staff, that I’ve found a whole new side of myself that I knew was in there somewhere. I learned how to stand my ground with these kids and tell them how things are going to be. When they try to challenge me, I have learned how to make them back down and put them back in their place. Just this afternoon I was helping a Dean watch approximately 60 students in an auditorium when I caught one student hitting another one while they were sitting. Sure, seemed like play. I called the student out and told him to knock it off and stared directly at him, as if to dare him to do it again. When he backed down, I backed down too. When I looked back at him, I saw him threatening the student next to him again, who at this point was flinching. That’s it, I’ve had it, it’s your ass at this point. YOU! YEAH, YOU! GET UP, SIT IN THE BACK BY YOURSELF! WHY? BECAUSE I’M TIRED OF YOU HITTING HIM, THAT’S WHY! MOVE, NOW! Sure he tried to stare me down while he got up, but you know what? He complied. I stood my ground, I showed him I wasn’t messing around with him and it worked. The days I’ve worked there, I’ve had multiple incidents, but nothing has really made me think like Jason.
Jason is this small little seventh grader, who is actually cute as a button. When you see him, you just want to call him sunshine and spend some time with him. Jason came into my life when it was reported he was jumped by seven other students. With the exception of a bruise by his eye, he was surprisingly uninjured. Guess these kids don’t know how to throw a decent punch yet. It wasn’t until later that we recovered he was in fact part of a gang and was jumped by a rival gang on campus. Lucky for Jason, we aren't talking about major gangs like Bloods and Crypts. We’re talking about small campus crews that still have the potential of being broken up. Unluckily for Jason, belonging to these crews is the first step in belonging to a major gang later in life.
When his mother came onto campus with his older brother, I was in the meeting where we broke it to her that her son is a member in a gang. I didn’t know what to expect from her. Tears, anger, denial? It was clear his older brother is not a gang member, so what is going on with Jason? Why did he join? Why now? Why?? The funny thing, I didn’t get the reaction from her that I was expecting. She was very quiet. At first she didn’t believe us because her son always comes home on time. That means he’s not in a gang, right? We really had to explain to her that while Jason was heavily denying membership, we had too many eye witnesses that are putting him in the gang. Jason just sat there, head down, not making eye contact, feet dangling from the chair. His mother searched all of us, not knowing what to do next. She searched his brother, who at this point appeared very worried. The case is still continuing.
I finally felt the true grit of the hood. I felt it reach its ugly hand into that meeting room past me, past the dean and wrap itself around that small, cute as a button boy. I could feel myself wanting to pry its fingers from his body, try to not let it totally envelope him, but I knew what I could do was limited. I saw the potential Jason could be, bad and good, and it was all flashing by so quickly. I wanted to cry for his mother who was clearly struggling for a light in the dark of unexplored and unknown ground.
Now when I walk across the street to my favorite taco stand and see the boys hanging out on the corner, they all look like Jason. At one point they were all cute as a button with their legs dangling off of a chair in school. Now they are on the corner watching the neighborhood under the blanket of the Los Angeles heat. They are the very clear addict that is searching through the trash for gawd knows what. But they are also the guy in the car ahead of me, with the two kids in the back, fighting to make his way through this life. They are also the guy behind the counter ringing up my order and serving me my tacos. The difference between the two? The grip the hood has on them, and to what level it has over taken them.
I drove home today thinking about Jason with his head down. And I thought about the smile of satisfaction Arnold Schwarzenegger had on his face when it was announced that they had reached a budget for California. A budget that included nine billion dollars worth of cuts to education. Then I wondered if he had ever felt the true grit of the hood.
When I was nineteen I left the Orange Curtain for Los Angeles and have lived here since. In the beginning there were struggles with anxiety of not having that same safe feeling, but I soon nestled into West Los Angeles with the help of my one-generation ahead sister. I found it funny how rap songs always talked about “the life of the Westside”, and found myself living it. I knew it was hard on the Eastside and touched on it every once in awhile. I can’t say I’ve been under exposed, I know what’s out my front door. I know the privilege I continue to live in, and struggle for. I’ve researched, met and talked with people from the Eastside, and I fooled myself into thinking that I get it.
Yeah, there are gangs, I get it. Yeah, you’re a single mom with three kids, I get it. Yeah, you’ve got bills to pay, I get it, so do I. But recently I started working on the Eastside. My first assignment was at a High School in East L.A., and I loved every minute of it. The kids told me about the gangs on campus, but I never found even one member in my office. They were just another kid passing me in the hall. In some of them, I found the poverty I knew so much about and there were times I had to take a moment to myself to fully take in the magnitude of what they were telling me. All I could do was lend a sympathetic ear and attempt to make High School just a little easier for them while giving them the hope and a pathway to something better.
However, the assignment I’m on now has brought me even deeper into “the hood”. Instead of the Hispanic Barrio of East LA, I find myself smack in the middle of the hood of South Central, trying to pull these young children out of the quicksand they find themselves surrounded by. I’ve broken up so many fights in the last three days and seen kids hit and kick at faculty and staff, that I’ve found a whole new side of myself that I knew was in there somewhere. I learned how to stand my ground with these kids and tell them how things are going to be. When they try to challenge me, I have learned how to make them back down and put them back in their place. Just this afternoon I was helping a Dean watch approximately 60 students in an auditorium when I caught one student hitting another one while they were sitting. Sure, seemed like play. I called the student out and told him to knock it off and stared directly at him, as if to dare him to do it again. When he backed down, I backed down too. When I looked back at him, I saw him threatening the student next to him again, who at this point was flinching. That’s it, I’ve had it, it’s your ass at this point. YOU! YEAH, YOU! GET UP, SIT IN THE BACK BY YOURSELF! WHY? BECAUSE I’M TIRED OF YOU HITTING HIM, THAT’S WHY! MOVE, NOW! Sure he tried to stare me down while he got up, but you know what? He complied. I stood my ground, I showed him I wasn’t messing around with him and it worked. The days I’ve worked there, I’ve had multiple incidents, but nothing has really made me think like Jason.
Jason is this small little seventh grader, who is actually cute as a button. When you see him, you just want to call him sunshine and spend some time with him. Jason came into my life when it was reported he was jumped by seven other students. With the exception of a bruise by his eye, he was surprisingly uninjured. Guess these kids don’t know how to throw a decent punch yet. It wasn’t until later that we recovered he was in fact part of a gang and was jumped by a rival gang on campus. Lucky for Jason, we aren't talking about major gangs like Bloods and Crypts. We’re talking about small campus crews that still have the potential of being broken up. Unluckily for Jason, belonging to these crews is the first step in belonging to a major gang later in life.
When his mother came onto campus with his older brother, I was in the meeting where we broke it to her that her son is a member in a gang. I didn’t know what to expect from her. Tears, anger, denial? It was clear his older brother is not a gang member, so what is going on with Jason? Why did he join? Why now? Why?? The funny thing, I didn’t get the reaction from her that I was expecting. She was very quiet. At first she didn’t believe us because her son always comes home on time. That means he’s not in a gang, right? We really had to explain to her that while Jason was heavily denying membership, we had too many eye witnesses that are putting him in the gang. Jason just sat there, head down, not making eye contact, feet dangling from the chair. His mother searched all of us, not knowing what to do next. She searched his brother, who at this point appeared very worried. The case is still continuing.
I finally felt the true grit of the hood. I felt it reach its ugly hand into that meeting room past me, past the dean and wrap itself around that small, cute as a button boy. I could feel myself wanting to pry its fingers from his body, try to not let it totally envelope him, but I knew what I could do was limited. I saw the potential Jason could be, bad and good, and it was all flashing by so quickly. I wanted to cry for his mother who was clearly struggling for a light in the dark of unexplored and unknown ground.
Now when I walk across the street to my favorite taco stand and see the boys hanging out on the corner, they all look like Jason. At one point they were all cute as a button with their legs dangling off of a chair in school. Now they are on the corner watching the neighborhood under the blanket of the Los Angeles heat. They are the very clear addict that is searching through the trash for gawd knows what. But they are also the guy in the car ahead of me, with the two kids in the back, fighting to make his way through this life. They are also the guy behind the counter ringing up my order and serving me my tacos. The difference between the two? The grip the hood has on them, and to what level it has over taken them.
I drove home today thinking about Jason with his head down. And I thought about the smile of satisfaction Arnold Schwarzenegger had on his face when it was announced that they had reached a budget for California. A budget that included nine billion dollars worth of cuts to education. Then I wondered if he had ever felt the true grit of the hood.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Vegetables and Sleeping Pills
Weight: Too scared to step on a scale
Mood: Speculative
Listening To: Family Guy
I once went to this restaurant with one of my girlfriends who claimed it was vegetarian. I thought to myself "no problem, I can do vegetarian!" and gladly skipped my way to the door with her. As I looked over the menu I immediately felt betrayed, confused and disgusted as I realized it was a RAW VEGAN restaurant. Instead of swearing under my breath and promptly walking out the door, I decided to give it a go. I can't remember exactly what I ate was called, but there was a lot of sprouts and some kind of vegan dressing on it. After awhile, it made me start to feel ill and I can't really tell you whether or not it was the idea of the food that made me sick, or the food itself. What I do know is that when I ate at El Pollo Loco later that night, I have never been more thankful for cooked food.
Here I am, possibly a year away from that event, but with it still crazy clear in my mind, when I am embarking on a week of being a vegetarian. It's really not for any environmental reason, or ethics reason. To fully be able to understand my newest adventure, I have to start from the best spot - the beginning.
It started the week before this past week (that would be two weeks ago to those who don't know how to count) when I was studying for the CBEST. Oh how very stressful that was. I used the Kaplan study guide, which was the worst guide I could have used, ends up. Once I sat down and took the test, I was quick to realize that Kaplan had me studying for things that weren't even touched upon on the test. I should have guessed it when Kaplan included linear algebra in a study guide for a test that has "basic education" in the title. Instead of investigating into the test off of the CBEST website, I took Kaplan's word for it and the stress was insurmountable. Did I work out to relieve the stress? Hell no. Meditation, maybe? Hell no, I needed immediate gratification. Oh hello my old friend spinach dip! Did it stop there? Hell no, I wasn't going to COOK!!! I have NO TIME to COOK!!! I'll just have to order in! I'll just do it tonight, and tomorrow I'll be good and cook. That discussion would continue in my head everyday for the entire week. I never did end up cooking.
Immediately after the test, I proceeded directly to the grocery store to shop for my 19-year-old niece and nephew that were coming in from Tennessee the following day. Hmmm . . . . . what do 19-year-olds like? Fruit? No, I don't even like fruit or veggies and I'm supposedly an adult. Well hello my old friends Doritos, Oreos, Top Ramen and White Cheddar Corn Puffs. It's been quite a long time since we've chatted. I think we should sit a spell. Especially since I won't be the only one visiting with you! I wasn't kidding myself; I knew I was going to have my fair share of visits with these old friends. During the week, I would have additional visits with other old friends like Cheeseburger, french fries, steak, cheese, chocolate and of course not to be missed - Peanut butter cups. Oh they were great visits! Unfortunately those visits will be sitting on my waist for a little while.
Once my babies left me to go back to Tennessee, I was quick to grab a trash bag to throw away the remaining Doritos and such. As I grabbed the bag, I heard them say hello and assumed we were sitting down for a visit. My arm fought me as I put them in the trash bag. I could hear them scream my name "NO!!! WE ARE SUPPOSSED TO HAVE A VISIT! JUST ONE MORE ISN'T GOING TO HURT! DON'T END IT LIKE THIS!!!" My self control somehow prevailed as I sealed the bag and put it by the door and gathered additional items to throw out. When I picked up the bag and saw bright red and orange from my old friend Doritos press up against the plastic. It taunted me, asked me not to end our relationship like this, and if I needed it had baby bags in the vending machine downstairs ready for a visit.
I wish I could say I felt relief when I threw the bag down the trash shoot, but I didn't. I felt regret that I ever said hello to these old friends again. I felt regret that I ended the relationship so abruptly. Although I knew one last visit wasn't worth it, I still think about the bright red and orange poking through at me, shining brightly and pulling me in.
To get back to healthy, I'm throwing myself on a vegetarian track for a week and being miss workout queen as well. I've got a workout scheduled for every day of the week. I'm nervous. Not so nervous about the food. Not so much nervous about the work outs, but more nervous about my self control than anything. Let's face a fact - I have no self control when it comes to food. I admit it, and it certainly shows on my figure. In any case, I treated myself to an Indian dinner as a send off and good luck, wrote down all of my vegetarian recipes for the week and took a sleeping pill to try and catch a little bit of a zero calorie high. Let the games begin . . . . .
Mood: Speculative
Listening To: Family Guy
I once went to this restaurant with one of my girlfriends who claimed it was vegetarian. I thought to myself "no problem, I can do vegetarian!" and gladly skipped my way to the door with her. As I looked over the menu I immediately felt betrayed, confused and disgusted as I realized it was a RAW VEGAN restaurant. Instead of swearing under my breath and promptly walking out the door, I decided to give it a go. I can't remember exactly what I ate was called, but there was a lot of sprouts and some kind of vegan dressing on it. After awhile, it made me start to feel ill and I can't really tell you whether or not it was the idea of the food that made me sick, or the food itself. What I do know is that when I ate at El Pollo Loco later that night, I have never been more thankful for cooked food.
Here I am, possibly a year away from that event, but with it still crazy clear in my mind, when I am embarking on a week of being a vegetarian. It's really not for any environmental reason, or ethics reason. To fully be able to understand my newest adventure, I have to start from the best spot - the beginning.
It started the week before this past week (that would be two weeks ago to those who don't know how to count) when I was studying for the CBEST. Oh how very stressful that was. I used the Kaplan study guide, which was the worst guide I could have used, ends up. Once I sat down and took the test, I was quick to realize that Kaplan had me studying for things that weren't even touched upon on the test. I should have guessed it when Kaplan included linear algebra in a study guide for a test that has "basic education" in the title. Instead of investigating into the test off of the CBEST website, I took Kaplan's word for it and the stress was insurmountable. Did I work out to relieve the stress? Hell no. Meditation, maybe? Hell no, I needed immediate gratification. Oh hello my old friend spinach dip! Did it stop there? Hell no, I wasn't going to COOK!!! I have NO TIME to COOK!!! I'll just have to order in! I'll just do it tonight, and tomorrow I'll be good and cook. That discussion would continue in my head everyday for the entire week. I never did end up cooking.
Immediately after the test, I proceeded directly to the grocery store to shop for my 19-year-old niece and nephew that were coming in from Tennessee the following day. Hmmm . . . . . what do 19-year-olds like? Fruit? No, I don't even like fruit or veggies and I'm supposedly an adult. Well hello my old friends Doritos, Oreos, Top Ramen and White Cheddar Corn Puffs. It's been quite a long time since we've chatted. I think we should sit a spell. Especially since I won't be the only one visiting with you! I wasn't kidding myself; I knew I was going to have my fair share of visits with these old friends. During the week, I would have additional visits with other old friends like Cheeseburger, french fries, steak, cheese, chocolate and of course not to be missed - Peanut butter cups. Oh they were great visits! Unfortunately those visits will be sitting on my waist for a little while.
Once my babies left me to go back to Tennessee, I was quick to grab a trash bag to throw away the remaining Doritos and such. As I grabbed the bag, I heard them say hello and assumed we were sitting down for a visit. My arm fought me as I put them in the trash bag. I could hear them scream my name "NO!!! WE ARE SUPPOSSED TO HAVE A VISIT! JUST ONE MORE ISN'T GOING TO HURT! DON'T END IT LIKE THIS!!!" My self control somehow prevailed as I sealed the bag and put it by the door and gathered additional items to throw out. When I picked up the bag and saw bright red and orange from my old friend Doritos press up against the plastic. It taunted me, asked me not to end our relationship like this, and if I needed it had baby bags in the vending machine downstairs ready for a visit.
I wish I could say I felt relief when I threw the bag down the trash shoot, but I didn't. I felt regret that I ever said hello to these old friends again. I felt regret that I ended the relationship so abruptly. Although I knew one last visit wasn't worth it, I still think about the bright red and orange poking through at me, shining brightly and pulling me in.
To get back to healthy, I'm throwing myself on a vegetarian track for a week and being miss workout queen as well. I've got a workout scheduled for every day of the week. I'm nervous. Not so nervous about the food. Not so much nervous about the work outs, but more nervous about my self control than anything. Let's face a fact - I have no self control when it comes to food. I admit it, and it certainly shows on my figure. In any case, I treated myself to an Indian dinner as a send off and good luck, wrote down all of my vegetarian recipes for the week and took a sleeping pill to try and catch a little bit of a zero calorie high. Let the games begin . . . . .
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Spinach Dip and the CBEST
Weight: Feeling Fat
Mood: Confused
Listening to: Summerboy by Lady Gaga (That was a random find, whereas Katy Perry would be all sorts on intentional.)
When I was in my late teens, I discovered something I would have a torrid affair with, lasting for years - spinach dip. I've always been a fan of the creamy delicacies and this topped my list of deliciousness. I had my first grown up moment with it when I was sitting at my grandmother's kitchen table in Indiana, talking with my cousins about my older cousins' spinach dip and how I couldn't wait to try it. A younger cousin chimed in on how it was gross and he didn't want it. I asked him if he had ever tried it before, which he hadn't. Then the dreaded grown up words came out of my mouth - don't knock it until you try it. My older cousin and mother would make me literally eat those words for two days. Somewhere around 13 years later, I found myself having a rather enjoyable visit with this very old friend who I hadn't seen in quite some time. We stopped talking once I realized how fat I got, and that this love affair had to end. As I smothered it on a roll of King's Hawaiian bread, the only thing going through my mind was that I was going to fail the CBEST.
You see, in California if you plan on working in the educational sector, you have to pass a state exam called the CBEST. It stands for California Basic Education something or other. The test consists of writing, reading and math. I've never been scared of any of these subjects, and since I went up to pre-cal in college - and liked it - I wasn't really intimidated. I always regretted not going further in math. I enjoyed the high I got knowing that I could solve those kind of problems with ease. It made me feel . . . well, smart.
For the past few weeks, I had been lightly studying all math, never really touching on the reading or writing, even though a previous practice test revealed the trickery of their questions. The skill isn't how well I understand the question or material; it's how well I understand the trickery of the questions. I have been amused over the past few weeks on how linear algebra was not a problem even after all these years. However, fractions and decimals were rocking my world . . . So I concentrated on the math, thinking reading and writing was in the bag. Until today, that is.
I finished my internships last week, and knew that this entire week was going to be dedicated to studying for the CBEST. Even with the interruptions of doctor's appointments and people climbing over the fence onto my patio I still managed to get some good study time in. After taking a practice test last night, and realizing that my scores were lower the then when I took the assessment test a few months ago (how the hell does that happen??), I zeroed in on things I needed to study more.
So today, I'm taking the full test. Roll up your sleeves, girl and get ready to prove you know this stuff! The great state of Cali wants you to prove it, so prove it. First test up - reading. Gawd these sections are boring. I'm totally getting distracted. What? Where would I find this lovely piece of literature? This is an actual question? What does that have to do with how well I read it? Hmmm. Magazine looks good. Gawd I can't wait until this is over. How many more questions do I have to go? 34, huh? This is going to take forever. . . . . Ah, finally done. I don't think I really even read those last few questions, but I'm totally confident on all my answers. Where is the answer key. Huh . . . I got that one wrong. Well, one or two is bound to happen. . . . Wait, that was three in a row that was wrong . . . what the hell is going on here?!!?? Damn. That score adds up to 66%. That's not even passing for my standards. Nowhere near passing. How the hell did I miss so many questions? Where are the answer explanations? What the hell do they mean that is the answer? For one, that's the dumbest question I've ever been asked, it's a trick question and I totally disagree with you. Who the hell wrote this test? I bet it was a cocky man who thinks the world of himself. Who else would come up with this crap? Well . . . . . at least I know I really have to think like a tricky asshole if I plan on passing this test. Fuck I hate that. I'm going to take a break. Zara should be calling me any minute.
As I sat on the couch fantasizing of telling off the jerk who wrote this test, I could feel the pain of my subconscious trying to decipher the way this test is formulated and how to think like the test writers think, who I am now working under the assumption are idiots. So, how to do you think like an idiot?
Zara eventually called and I went to go pick her up, and I could still feel myself on auto-pilot, slowing converting my thoughts over the math, which was the next test to be taken. Once I fought LA traffic and landed her in my car, we headed to the grocery store so she could pick up a birthday cake for the man in her life. I was dressed like a slob in jeans, sparkly flip flops and my oversized UCLA sweatshirt. I didn't have a trace of make up on and my hair was completely pulled back in a clip. I was studying for a huge test; beauty was not a priority at this point. The deeper we got into the grocery store, the more in a math trance I fell. I could no longer complete sentences because the only thing running through my head was "x squared minus the root of 25 equals what? Isn't there a formula for that? Speaking of formulas, one half the base times the height - that's for the area of a triangle right? Coefficients. Those are easy. What are those again?" I could feel myself getting deeper and deeper into this state, and not being able to understand or answer simple questions like "Paper or plastic?" I found myself avoiding eye contact because I knew that as soon as I made it, that stranger behind the counter would realize that I was totally not there, because my subconscious was taking over and when they looked at me, they would think there was nothing going through my head. I would look at them like Bambi staring into the lights of an oncoming Buick, while I tried desperately to decipher the meaning between paper and plastic. Was this a trick question? THERE ARE JUST SO MANY TRICK QUESTIONS!!! . . . . . . Ooooh, look, spinach dip!
I later went home and took the math test. I scored lower than the night before, in which I scored lower than the initial assessment I took months ago. So as I stood in my kitchen, enjoying the visit with my old friend spinach dip, I began to wonder something. I began to wonder if I was an idiot. I always thought I was one of the smartest people I know. But maybe this proves my theory true - when you're stupid, you don't know you're stupid. Fuck that would suck for me.
Mood: Confused
Listening to: Summerboy by Lady Gaga (That was a random find, whereas Katy Perry would be all sorts on intentional.)
When I was in my late teens, I discovered something I would have a torrid affair with, lasting for years - spinach dip. I've always been a fan of the creamy delicacies and this topped my list of deliciousness. I had my first grown up moment with it when I was sitting at my grandmother's kitchen table in Indiana, talking with my cousins about my older cousins' spinach dip and how I couldn't wait to try it. A younger cousin chimed in on how it was gross and he didn't want it. I asked him if he had ever tried it before, which he hadn't. Then the dreaded grown up words came out of my mouth - don't knock it until you try it. My older cousin and mother would make me literally eat those words for two days. Somewhere around 13 years later, I found myself having a rather enjoyable visit with this very old friend who I hadn't seen in quite some time. We stopped talking once I realized how fat I got, and that this love affair had to end. As I smothered it on a roll of King's Hawaiian bread, the only thing going through my mind was that I was going to fail the CBEST.
You see, in California if you plan on working in the educational sector, you have to pass a state exam called the CBEST. It stands for California Basic Education something or other. The test consists of writing, reading and math. I've never been scared of any of these subjects, and since I went up to pre-cal in college - and liked it - I wasn't really intimidated. I always regretted not going further in math. I enjoyed the high I got knowing that I could solve those kind of problems with ease. It made me feel . . . well, smart.
For the past few weeks, I had been lightly studying all math, never really touching on the reading or writing, even though a previous practice test revealed the trickery of their questions. The skill isn't how well I understand the question or material; it's how well I understand the trickery of the questions. I have been amused over the past few weeks on how linear algebra was not a problem even after all these years. However, fractions and decimals were rocking my world . . . So I concentrated on the math, thinking reading and writing was in the bag. Until today, that is.
I finished my internships last week, and knew that this entire week was going to be dedicated to studying for the CBEST. Even with the interruptions of doctor's appointments and people climbing over the fence onto my patio I still managed to get some good study time in. After taking a practice test last night, and realizing that my scores were lower the then when I took the assessment test a few months ago (how the hell does that happen??), I zeroed in on things I needed to study more.
So today, I'm taking the full test. Roll up your sleeves, girl and get ready to prove you know this stuff! The great state of Cali wants you to prove it, so prove it. First test up - reading. Gawd these sections are boring. I'm totally getting distracted. What? Where would I find this lovely piece of literature? This is an actual question? What does that have to do with how well I read it? Hmmm. Magazine looks good. Gawd I can't wait until this is over. How many more questions do I have to go? 34, huh? This is going to take forever. . . . . Ah, finally done. I don't think I really even read those last few questions, but I'm totally confident on all my answers. Where is the answer key. Huh . . . I got that one wrong. Well, one or two is bound to happen. . . . Wait, that was three in a row that was wrong . . . what the hell is going on here?!!?? Damn. That score adds up to 66%. That's not even passing for my standards. Nowhere near passing. How the hell did I miss so many questions? Where are the answer explanations? What the hell do they mean that is the answer? For one, that's the dumbest question I've ever been asked, it's a trick question and I totally disagree with you. Who the hell wrote this test? I bet it was a cocky man who thinks the world of himself. Who else would come up with this crap? Well . . . . . at least I know I really have to think like a tricky asshole if I plan on passing this test. Fuck I hate that. I'm going to take a break. Zara should be calling me any minute.
As I sat on the couch fantasizing of telling off the jerk who wrote this test, I could feel the pain of my subconscious trying to decipher the way this test is formulated and how to think like the test writers think, who I am now working under the assumption are idiots. So, how to do you think like an idiot?
Zara eventually called and I went to go pick her up, and I could still feel myself on auto-pilot, slowing converting my thoughts over the math, which was the next test to be taken. Once I fought LA traffic and landed her in my car, we headed to the grocery store so she could pick up a birthday cake for the man in her life. I was dressed like a slob in jeans, sparkly flip flops and my oversized UCLA sweatshirt. I didn't have a trace of make up on and my hair was completely pulled back in a clip. I was studying for a huge test; beauty was not a priority at this point. The deeper we got into the grocery store, the more in a math trance I fell. I could no longer complete sentences because the only thing running through my head was "x squared minus the root of 25 equals what? Isn't there a formula for that? Speaking of formulas, one half the base times the height - that's for the area of a triangle right? Coefficients. Those are easy. What are those again?" I could feel myself getting deeper and deeper into this state, and not being able to understand or answer simple questions like "Paper or plastic?" I found myself avoiding eye contact because I knew that as soon as I made it, that stranger behind the counter would realize that I was totally not there, because my subconscious was taking over and when they looked at me, they would think there was nothing going through my head. I would look at them like Bambi staring into the lights of an oncoming Buick, while I tried desperately to decipher the meaning between paper and plastic. Was this a trick question? THERE ARE JUST SO MANY TRICK QUESTIONS!!! . . . . . . Ooooh, look, spinach dip!
I later went home and took the math test. I scored lower than the night before, in which I scored lower than the initial assessment I took months ago. So as I stood in my kitchen, enjoying the visit with my old friend spinach dip, I began to wonder something. I began to wonder if I was an idiot. I always thought I was one of the smartest people I know. But maybe this proves my theory true - when you're stupid, you don't know you're stupid. Fuck that would suck for me.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
The Challenge
Weight: 12 pounds lighter
Mood: Freakin' Fantastic
Listening To: Cherry Lips by Garbage, oh yeah!
Every time I walk from my car to Lincoln High in East LA, I pass this house that is okay. It's not completely worn down like the others on the block, but it's not the best on the block either. The first animal I ever saw in the yard was an aging Chihuahua. In the passing weeks we would share moments of him barking at cars - not people, and me trying to wake him up when I thought he might have been dead. To my surprise I also discovered two turtles that like to wander around the yard, and check out people as they pass by. They get rather courageous in sticking their heads up and looking right at you at the edge of the gate. Every time I pass by, I hope to say hello to the turtles, but they have a mind of their own and aren't always around.
This morning was no different than any other when I passed the house, but it was totally different when I arrived on campus. I thought I was going to be working with this counselor who I "lovingly" call Miss Stupid Head. Mostly because she wants to be the popular girl on campus with the kids - not their counselor. I have a strong suspicion she didn't have many friends in High School. When I arrived at the office where she is located, she was not as her desk as usual. So I headed over to her mom's office. (Yeah, her mom is a counselor on the campus, too. . . . I'll give you a moment to let that sink in . . . . . moving forward.) They let me know that there is a meeting today, and Miss Stupid Head doesn't have any work for me to do today. Did someone say early day??
At the meeting, two things happened. I desperately wanted to give Miss Stupid Head some sort of pill so she would start using her indoor voice, not her outdoor voice; and the counselor that I have learned the most from is out indefinitely for "medical" reasons. Really, word around campus is that he is getting cut loose. As I contemplated the reasons why they would try to move him out and not Miss Stupid Head, I decided to use this to my advantage.
I aggressively, sneakily, wiggled my way into his spot. Hey, I can pick up his slack! Not a problem! You want me to program classes, not a problem. Did I mention that I'm looking for a job? What do you think of hiring me on for next year??
It took me somewhere around two hours to organize all of the crap on his desk to get some sense of order and what the hell I was doing, anyway. Once I had a plan in line, it all went to crap. Students were in and out all day - Hey Miss, can I have this? Hey Miss, can I have that? Miss, what about this?? And I ended my day with a senior who will have to take 2 classes over the summer, and he's considering dropping out because of that . . . . really??
The day just FLEW by and I loved every minute of it. I controlled my impulse to also organize the desk drawers. Don't want to go too crazy in case he's coming back. I'll wait until next week to do that.
So with this pumped feeling of joy and accomplishment, I have decided to put into action a plan I've been tossing around for the past few days - as soon as Brian steps foot out the door, I am not drinking alcohol for two weeks. Well, okay he leaves Tuesday and I'm starting Monday, but you get the point. I wonder how long this will last, but I'm sure there will be multiple blogs on it. . . . .
Now if you will excuse me, I have to go work off the Salvadorian food with some Wii boxing . . . .
Mood: Freakin' Fantastic
Listening To: Cherry Lips by Garbage, oh yeah!
Every time I walk from my car to Lincoln High in East LA, I pass this house that is okay. It's not completely worn down like the others on the block, but it's not the best on the block either. The first animal I ever saw in the yard was an aging Chihuahua. In the passing weeks we would share moments of him barking at cars - not people, and me trying to wake him up when I thought he might have been dead. To my surprise I also discovered two turtles that like to wander around the yard, and check out people as they pass by. They get rather courageous in sticking their heads up and looking right at you at the edge of the gate. Every time I pass by, I hope to say hello to the turtles, but they have a mind of their own and aren't always around.
This morning was no different than any other when I passed the house, but it was totally different when I arrived on campus. I thought I was going to be working with this counselor who I "lovingly" call Miss Stupid Head. Mostly because she wants to be the popular girl on campus with the kids - not their counselor. I have a strong suspicion she didn't have many friends in High School. When I arrived at the office where she is located, she was not as her desk as usual. So I headed over to her mom's office. (Yeah, her mom is a counselor on the campus, too. . . . I'll give you a moment to let that sink in . . . . . moving forward.) They let me know that there is a meeting today, and Miss Stupid Head doesn't have any work for me to do today. Did someone say early day??
At the meeting, two things happened. I desperately wanted to give Miss Stupid Head some sort of pill so she would start using her indoor voice, not her outdoor voice; and the counselor that I have learned the most from is out indefinitely for "medical" reasons. Really, word around campus is that he is getting cut loose. As I contemplated the reasons why they would try to move him out and not Miss Stupid Head, I decided to use this to my advantage.
I aggressively, sneakily, wiggled my way into his spot. Hey, I can pick up his slack! Not a problem! You want me to program classes, not a problem. Did I mention that I'm looking for a job? What do you think of hiring me on for next year??
It took me somewhere around two hours to organize all of the crap on his desk to get some sense of order and what the hell I was doing, anyway. Once I had a plan in line, it all went to crap. Students were in and out all day - Hey Miss, can I have this? Hey Miss, can I have that? Miss, what about this?? And I ended my day with a senior who will have to take 2 classes over the summer, and he's considering dropping out because of that . . . . really??
The day just FLEW by and I loved every minute of it. I controlled my impulse to also organize the desk drawers. Don't want to go too crazy in case he's coming back. I'll wait until next week to do that.
So with this pumped feeling of joy and accomplishment, I have decided to put into action a plan I've been tossing around for the past few days - as soon as Brian steps foot out the door, I am not drinking alcohol for two weeks. Well, okay he leaves Tuesday and I'm starting Monday, but you get the point. I wonder how long this will last, but I'm sure there will be multiple blogs on it. . . . .
Now if you will excuse me, I have to go work off the Salvadorian food with some Wii boxing . . . .
Friday, April 24, 2009
Yoga Pants and T-Shirts
Weight: 10 lbs lighter
Listening to: First Time by Lifehouse
Mood: Good but headachy. Hungry, maybe? I'm gonna rip open a pack of garlic parmesan pretzels - 2 points.
For the last couple of weeks, when I go to a Weight Watchers meeting I've noticed that there is a group of older adults who are rather familiar with one another. It's pretty evident that they have been coming to meetings for quite some time, and there have been talks about how they walk together for their work outs. It usually leaves me wondering if for them Weight Watchers is more a social event then a weight loss event. As that kind of frustrated me, I ignored it for the most part, but also took active note that they were never dressed very nicely. It was always loose, workout clothes that weren't very fashionable. Could they really be working out after the meetings every week? I kinda get the feeling that they don't work out THAT much. I don't even remember hearing about any of them hitting any sort of weight loss milestones. So if they are here to get out of the house and socialize, what is up with the workout clothes? Well, whatever. I'll just take pride in my cute little scarves, fashionable t's and slowly loosening jeans. It wasn't long until I found myself in work out clothes at a Weight Watchers meeting. But I digress; I must start from the beginning.
I ended up skipping a meeting last week, and although I was weighing myself almost daily, I knew I wasn't eating very well and to hell with working out with a knee injury. I had been developing this rather enjoyable, but rather bad pattern of behaviors called "happy hour." Gavin introduced me to the one at Enterprise Fish Co (see previous logs) and since then I've been happy hour McCrazy. The always adorable Chanthy came to town on day, and we hit up Barney's Beanery's happy hour - which sucks, but we still stayed - and had a multitude of drinks and fried foods. Then one sunny afternoon Brian remembered that Gyukaku has a happy hour and we ended up there - which is the best happy hour in the city. Ten 99 cent draft beers later we were on our way out the door. That was immediately followed by binging on more beer, pizza and somewhere gelato came into the mix.
After that happy hour, I told Brian I'm giving up alcohol for awhile! All it does is cloud my better food judgment and makes me fat! I'm already fat! I don't need to be more fat! So, almost a week sober and I have a raging head ache. Coincidence? (Ha-ha, totally kidding, I know it's a sinus headache, dam pollen.) Well, that might have stopped the drinking, but that didn't stop the binging! After I polished off the bag of chocolate chips in the cupboard, I found myself desperately searching for the Reese's peanut butter cups that HAD to be somewhere in the kitchen, although I knew they weren't. What the hell? Why am I binging like this? Maybe I broke up with my therapist too soon . . . . I'm just going to go to my bedroom with this popcorn that's one point and try to forget about the peanut butter cups. Albertson’s needs to carry the weight watcher's version. Dam them for not carrying them!!!! DAM THEM!!!!
This morning was the moment of truth. No sleeping in, no doctor's appointments, I was going to a meeting. I stepped on the scale in the bathroom to help prep me for the disappointment I would feel at the meeting, because inevitably the scales there always say one pound heavier. Huh. That's not so bad. In fact, if the scale at weight watchers is the same, that means I've lost ten pounds. Why is that stupid scale always higher than the one in my bathroom? How can I keep this consistent until then? Of course I'm not eating until I weigh in, but I never do. How do I keep this?
That's when I remembered the yoga clothes I have, that I "discovered" when I was looking for something to wear to physical therapy. For those of you that aren't keeping up - I injured my left knee a few weeks ago, to the point where walking up stairs is a painful process and I've been limping around on it up until recently. I had a stroke of genius when I decided to see a physical therapist, and had my first appointment a week ago, which is why I missed my weight watchers meeting. I highly suggest everyone go to physical therapy, if only for a consultation. As I am laughing at certain weaknesses in my body, I am also learning how to fix them. Yesterday she strapped me into this Pilates machine, which good gawd am I sore today, but getting the ultrasound therapy on my knee made it all worth it.
Gawd those clothes are comfy. Huh. I wonder if I wear it to the meeting, if the scale will register the same there. Fuck, I'm going to be like one of those old people at the meeting that annoy me. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I want this pound, I want my 5% stars, I'm doing it.
Indeed the scale did register the same as the one in my bathroom. Maybe these old people are on to something. Or maybe they're just old and want to be comfortable. Who gives a crap; I got to my 5% goal. But of course I got in the line with the inept lady behind the computer that originally said I gained weight. Upon review of the notes and consultation with the meeting leader, it was confirmed that I was down 10 pounds. I was happy, and I wanted my dam stickers. However, this stupid lady forgot to write it down on the list, so I didn't get acknowledged and I didn't get my dam stickers. ALL I WANT ARE THOSE DAM STICKERS!!!!! Okay, calm down, what do I do? Do I ask the team leader for them after the meeting? Do I raise my hand and say "EXCUSE THE HELL OUT OF ME, I BELONG ON THAT STUPID LIST, TOO, AND I WANT THE STUPID STICKERS I EARNED, GAWD DAM IT!!!!!" No, no . . . . I think I'll refrain myself. I'm just going to sit here and pout until I calm down. Instead of making a big deal out of it after the meeting, I'll mention it when I weigh in next week. I'm going to get those stupid stickers at some point, and I'm going to put them on my stupid weigh in book.
But I can't just go about my day and not acknowledge this. Yeah, I texted a few people, but hell I should be happy about this, right?? How should I reward myself? Maybe I should just get those peanut butter cups I was hunting down last night. But they go by so fast! It's hard to savor that for a long time and I'm not going to bullshit myself and say I'll eat one now and another one later. Oooh! I know what I'll get myself. . . . .
Ten minutes later I was driving away from Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf with a small decaf soy latte. It was three points.
Listening to: First Time by Lifehouse
Mood: Good but headachy. Hungry, maybe? I'm gonna rip open a pack of garlic parmesan pretzels - 2 points.
For the last couple of weeks, when I go to a Weight Watchers meeting I've noticed that there is a group of older adults who are rather familiar with one another. It's pretty evident that they have been coming to meetings for quite some time, and there have been talks about how they walk together for their work outs. It usually leaves me wondering if for them Weight Watchers is more a social event then a weight loss event. As that kind of frustrated me, I ignored it for the most part, but also took active note that they were never dressed very nicely. It was always loose, workout clothes that weren't very fashionable. Could they really be working out after the meetings every week? I kinda get the feeling that they don't work out THAT much. I don't even remember hearing about any of them hitting any sort of weight loss milestones. So if they are here to get out of the house and socialize, what is up with the workout clothes? Well, whatever. I'll just take pride in my cute little scarves, fashionable t's and slowly loosening jeans. It wasn't long until I found myself in work out clothes at a Weight Watchers meeting. But I digress; I must start from the beginning.
I ended up skipping a meeting last week, and although I was weighing myself almost daily, I knew I wasn't eating very well and to hell with working out with a knee injury. I had been developing this rather enjoyable, but rather bad pattern of behaviors called "happy hour." Gavin introduced me to the one at Enterprise Fish Co (see previous logs) and since then I've been happy hour McCrazy. The always adorable Chanthy came to town on day, and we hit up Barney's Beanery's happy hour - which sucks, but we still stayed - and had a multitude of drinks and fried foods. Then one sunny afternoon Brian remembered that Gyukaku has a happy hour and we ended up there - which is the best happy hour in the city. Ten 99 cent draft beers later we were on our way out the door. That was immediately followed by binging on more beer, pizza and somewhere gelato came into the mix.
After that happy hour, I told Brian I'm giving up alcohol for awhile! All it does is cloud my better food judgment and makes me fat! I'm already fat! I don't need to be more fat! So, almost a week sober and I have a raging head ache. Coincidence? (Ha-ha, totally kidding, I know it's a sinus headache, dam pollen.) Well, that might have stopped the drinking, but that didn't stop the binging! After I polished off the bag of chocolate chips in the cupboard, I found myself desperately searching for the Reese's peanut butter cups that HAD to be somewhere in the kitchen, although I knew they weren't. What the hell? Why am I binging like this? Maybe I broke up with my therapist too soon . . . . I'm just going to go to my bedroom with this popcorn that's one point and try to forget about the peanut butter cups. Albertson’s needs to carry the weight watcher's version. Dam them for not carrying them!!!! DAM THEM!!!!
This morning was the moment of truth. No sleeping in, no doctor's appointments, I was going to a meeting. I stepped on the scale in the bathroom to help prep me for the disappointment I would feel at the meeting, because inevitably the scales there always say one pound heavier. Huh. That's not so bad. In fact, if the scale at weight watchers is the same, that means I've lost ten pounds. Why is that stupid scale always higher than the one in my bathroom? How can I keep this consistent until then? Of course I'm not eating until I weigh in, but I never do. How do I keep this?
That's when I remembered the yoga clothes I have, that I "discovered" when I was looking for something to wear to physical therapy. For those of you that aren't keeping up - I injured my left knee a few weeks ago, to the point where walking up stairs is a painful process and I've been limping around on it up until recently. I had a stroke of genius when I decided to see a physical therapist, and had my first appointment a week ago, which is why I missed my weight watchers meeting. I highly suggest everyone go to physical therapy, if only for a consultation. As I am laughing at certain weaknesses in my body, I am also learning how to fix them. Yesterday she strapped me into this Pilates machine, which good gawd am I sore today, but getting the ultrasound therapy on my knee made it all worth it.
Gawd those clothes are comfy. Huh. I wonder if I wear it to the meeting, if the scale will register the same there. Fuck, I'm going to be like one of those old people at the meeting that annoy me. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I want this pound, I want my 5% stars, I'm doing it.
Indeed the scale did register the same as the one in my bathroom. Maybe these old people are on to something. Or maybe they're just old and want to be comfortable. Who gives a crap; I got to my 5% goal. But of course I got in the line with the inept lady behind the computer that originally said I gained weight. Upon review of the notes and consultation with the meeting leader, it was confirmed that I was down 10 pounds. I was happy, and I wanted my dam stickers. However, this stupid lady forgot to write it down on the list, so I didn't get acknowledged and I didn't get my dam stickers. ALL I WANT ARE THOSE DAM STICKERS!!!!! Okay, calm down, what do I do? Do I ask the team leader for them after the meeting? Do I raise my hand and say "EXCUSE THE HELL OUT OF ME, I BELONG ON THAT STUPID LIST, TOO, AND I WANT THE STUPID STICKERS I EARNED, GAWD DAM IT!!!!!" No, no . . . . I think I'll refrain myself. I'm just going to sit here and pout until I calm down. Instead of making a big deal out of it after the meeting, I'll mention it when I weigh in next week. I'm going to get those stupid stickers at some point, and I'm going to put them on my stupid weigh in book.
But I can't just go about my day and not acknowledge this. Yeah, I texted a few people, but hell I should be happy about this, right?? How should I reward myself? Maybe I should just get those peanut butter cups I was hunting down last night. But they go by so fast! It's hard to savor that for a long time and I'm not going to bullshit myself and say I'll eat one now and another one later. Oooh! I know what I'll get myself. . . . .
Ten minutes later I was driving away from Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf with a small decaf soy latte. It was three points.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Everything Fried and Alcoholic
Weight: 6.5 lbs lighter
Listening to: Unsolved Mysteries
Mood: Good
Every so often I run into someone who dyes their hair, and have by now forgotten what their natural hair color is. I always thought that was a little ridiculous, until I realized that I have long since forgotten what my natural hair style is. I'm usually straightening it, putting it up in curlers or using a very specific combination of hair products to "enhance the natural curl" that I've totally forgotten what it looks like when I do nothing to it. Today I find myself letting my hair dry on its own to see where it ends up. So far so good. It's still curly, but still has yet to show how curly it is. And I really did forget how incredibly soft it is. After the craziness of spring break and Easter, I'm spending my last day of "vacation" watching my hair dry and doing laundry.
It had been so long since I have actually had a Spring Break, that I forgot how to handle myself and spent most of it buzzed on a variety of alcohols and chowing down on cheese burgers and sweet potato fries. (The Counter has the best sweet potato fries, if you're on the search.) I actually did try to balance it out by eating light for most days out of the week, but I certainly did have my fill of gluttonous behavior. So when Friday morning came around, I wasn't going to bullshit myself.
I knew I had totally indulged in everything fried and alcoholic and I had a total disregard to my fatness. So when I stepped on that scale of torture, I was praying that I maintained my weight, at the very least. My prayers were not answered that morning, when I discovered that I actually had gained back one pound. But that's when something interesting happened. Having gained back that one pound gave me more motivation to staying on track and counting my points then when I lost five pounds! Huh. Well, let's not make this a habit . . . .
I carefully listened to everything they talked about, wrote down some notes and burned TEEN into my memory - Try Everything, Eat Nothing. That was going to be my plan for Easter! I had decided to make Easter dinner on my own for two reasons - 1) to have more control over the menu, and thus make it healthier. That didn't work out so well. I still have a pound of butter sitting in the fridge, if you need any. And 2) Kai and Shelby, who ended up not going to my sister's after all.
Maybe if I had gone to my sister's I would have avoided the near death experience of my thumb. There I was happily slicing veggies on a mandolin slicer until my thumb decided to pick a fight with the blade . . . . . . . . and lost. After swearing and jumping up and down a bit, I ran to the bathroom to put it under water. Oh my gawd it hurt SO BAD. AND WHERE THE HELL IS BRIAN?? HERE I AM DIEING AND HE IS NOWHERE!! Oh, wait there he is. We were both kind of shocked by the amount of blood a small little cut could cause, and believe me it was all over the bathroom counter. It wasn't clotting very quickly, and it bled through the first band-aide. I didn't think I needed a stitch, so I held my hand up over my head in the kitchen while I played supervisor in the kitchen to Zara and Brian for the rest of the event.
All in all, I think dinner turned out well and everyone seemed to enjoy it. So today I'm resting up my thumb and recovering the place from Easter. It's also a little funny that I decided today to watch my hair dry, since today is my recommitment to my points, and believe me after yesterday I have no extra points in my back pocket. I'm also looking forward to Friday morning, which will be my first session with a physical therapist to try and recover my knee. I have no idea what to expect, but I do know this - is some sort of semblance of a workout, which is what I desperately need at this point!
Listening to: Unsolved Mysteries
Mood: Good
Every so often I run into someone who dyes their hair, and have by now forgotten what their natural hair color is. I always thought that was a little ridiculous, until I realized that I have long since forgotten what my natural hair style is. I'm usually straightening it, putting it up in curlers or using a very specific combination of hair products to "enhance the natural curl" that I've totally forgotten what it looks like when I do nothing to it. Today I find myself letting my hair dry on its own to see where it ends up. So far so good. It's still curly, but still has yet to show how curly it is. And I really did forget how incredibly soft it is. After the craziness of spring break and Easter, I'm spending my last day of "vacation" watching my hair dry and doing laundry.
It had been so long since I have actually had a Spring Break, that I forgot how to handle myself and spent most of it buzzed on a variety of alcohols and chowing down on cheese burgers and sweet potato fries. (The Counter has the best sweet potato fries, if you're on the search.) I actually did try to balance it out by eating light for most days out of the week, but I certainly did have my fill of gluttonous behavior. So when Friday morning came around, I wasn't going to bullshit myself.
I knew I had totally indulged in everything fried and alcoholic and I had a total disregard to my fatness. So when I stepped on that scale of torture, I was praying that I maintained my weight, at the very least. My prayers were not answered that morning, when I discovered that I actually had gained back one pound. But that's when something interesting happened. Having gained back that one pound gave me more motivation to staying on track and counting my points then when I lost five pounds! Huh. Well, let's not make this a habit . . . .
I carefully listened to everything they talked about, wrote down some notes and burned TEEN into my memory - Try Everything, Eat Nothing. That was going to be my plan for Easter! I had decided to make Easter dinner on my own for two reasons - 1) to have more control over the menu, and thus make it healthier. That didn't work out so well. I still have a pound of butter sitting in the fridge, if you need any. And 2) Kai and Shelby, who ended up not going to my sister's after all.
Maybe if I had gone to my sister's I would have avoided the near death experience of my thumb. There I was happily slicing veggies on a mandolin slicer until my thumb decided to pick a fight with the blade . . . . . . . . and lost. After swearing and jumping up and down a bit, I ran to the bathroom to put it under water. Oh my gawd it hurt SO BAD. AND WHERE THE HELL IS BRIAN?? HERE I AM DIEING AND HE IS NOWHERE!! Oh, wait there he is. We were both kind of shocked by the amount of blood a small little cut could cause, and believe me it was all over the bathroom counter. It wasn't clotting very quickly, and it bled through the first band-aide. I didn't think I needed a stitch, so I held my hand up over my head in the kitchen while I played supervisor in the kitchen to Zara and Brian for the rest of the event.
All in all, I think dinner turned out well and everyone seemed to enjoy it. So today I'm resting up my thumb and recovering the place from Easter. It's also a little funny that I decided today to watch my hair dry, since today is my recommitment to my points, and believe me after yesterday I have no extra points in my back pocket. I'm also looking forward to Friday morning, which will be my first session with a physical therapist to try and recover my knee. I have no idea what to expect, but I do know this - is some sort of semblance of a workout, which is what I desperately need at this point!
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Really, Disappointment?
Weight: 7.5 lbs lighter
Listening to: Some random, horrible movie
Mood: Mellow
This past Friday meant another meeting of the fats. Since I had lost 5 lbs the week before, I set myself up in my mind to lose another 5. Although, I did find myself begging God to give me just one pound. When I stepped on the scale of torture, I discovered I lost another 2.6 lbs.! This is where I should have felt excitement. Strangely enough, I felt disappointment. I had set myself up to lose another 5 lbs, when realistically you should expect 2 - 3 lbs a week as success.
It was great losing the five in one week, but it definitely set up an expectation in my head. Hopefully I'll know better in the future.
In any case, I'm back to elevating and icing my knee AGAIN 'cause I got too confident on it earlier today. Good lawrd this is beginning to get obnoxious.
Oh, and I also blew all of my extra points for the week on dinner with Brian . . . . and I loved every minute of it!
Listening to: Some random, horrible movie
Mood: Mellow
This past Friday meant another meeting of the fats. Since I had lost 5 lbs the week before, I set myself up in my mind to lose another 5. Although, I did find myself begging God to give me just one pound. When I stepped on the scale of torture, I discovered I lost another 2.6 lbs.! This is where I should have felt excitement. Strangely enough, I felt disappointment. I had set myself up to lose another 5 lbs, when realistically you should expect 2 - 3 lbs a week as success.
It was great losing the five in one week, but it definitely set up an expectation in my head. Hopefully I'll know better in the future.
In any case, I'm back to elevating and icing my knee AGAIN 'cause I got too confident on it earlier today. Good lawrd this is beginning to get obnoxious.
Oh, and I also blew all of my extra points for the week on dinner with Brian . . . . and I loved every minute of it!
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
I Could Have Had the Large Fries for That
Weight: 5lbs lighter
Listening To: Morningside by Sara Barielles
Mood: Happy and Bouncy
I'm a huge believer in the crunchy on the outside, and soft and explosive on the inside. I can spot the perfect fry, and am very picky about my egg rolls. It's incredibly difficult to find a good egg roll in this city, and I found them at a restaurant down the street that I usually get delivery from. When I drive by and take a look at it tho, I deny it's where I really order from. They also have an amazing curry, and I can usually get white meat only chicken for a buck extra. Ah, those were the days. Not much unlike today where I found myself eating an egg roll.
To understand the situation completely, I have to explain that the week was nothing that I had planned on. It started out the way I expected, but lunches morphed into something that was totally unplanned for and totally uncalled for.
On Monday and Tuesday I was working with the High School. We had set up camp at the Middle School this week to get 'em while they're young, wait that was private industry, I meant to transition the eighth graders to High School. I packed up my lunch on Monday, like the good little dieter I am, only to discover that the counselors wanted to have lunch together. Wait. This isn't what I planned! We never have lunch together! What? You want to have Mexican food? You guys are trying to keep me fat, aren't you? This is bullshit. Am I hyperventilating? Where the hell is my phone?
I reached out to those who have been a ridiculous support team for me in the whole process - Brian and my comrade, Maia. I also reached out to one of the chicklet twins 'cause I figured if I wanna be a skinny bitch, I should ask one what she would order. Yeah, she was no help. Brian and Maia did their best to help me come up with a solution. Oder and only eat half? Don't go? Then I got it! I would have the lunch I brought before we go! It filled me up enough to resist the tacos they were shoving at me but I did sneak a few chips and salsa in there, all counted in my points! I was pretty proud of myself.
On Tuesday the chicklet twins were also working at the middle school, 'cause that is their regular internship placement. They were easier to negotiate with on lunch, and I split the meal with the aforementioned twin. Bless her little heart.
Today, well, today was a totally different story. Those Glaceau guys reached out to me, wanting to have lunch on Wednesday, to return my computer and sign the final lay off paperwork. They wanted to meet early in the day, but I had a commitment at the adult school that couldn't be changed. So I told them to go ahead and have lunch without me, and I would meet them later to turn in my computer and sign the paperwork. I knew it was a tight fit, and at first I thought I could pound down one of my weight watcher meals and head out to Buena Park for the meeting. That didn't happen, and by the time I left the adult school I was starving and I didn't want to sit through this meeting starving, besides I had stuff I had to do later in the day as well. I can't go hungry. I need to dashboard dine. But where? Hmmmmmm. No tacos. Those are too hard to eat on the freeway and it won't fill me up. A hamburger? Maybe a small, simple one. I remember them being like 6 points, or something. Perfect.
I pulled up to the golden arches and took a look at the menu. Wait a minute, chicken mcnuggets. Those are even less. I'll get the kids meal! 4 mcnuggets and a small fry. Perfect portion size, and I could totally work that into my points today! Yay solutions!! And no, I don't want a drink. I don't care if 'it comes with it' lady, I told you no drink. Really? You really want me to have a drink. You got some water behind that counter? Bottled? Sure, whatever. You're really pushing those drinks. No wonder we're all fat.
As I pulled up to Panda-something in Buena, I had finished eating my fries and mcnuggets and didn't have one iota of guilt. I was comfortably full and had no real interest in Chinese food. They were supposed to have met at 11:30, so they should just be finishing up. Perfect. I walked up to their table and found, wait, what was that? . . . MENUS!!?? What the fuck, did they not eat? Oh crap they waited for me. As much as I wanted to scream bullshit, it was a really nice gesture. Dam it, dam it, dam it. What the hell am I going to do now? I can't turn down the final lunch! That would be such a bad gesture, and they waited for me. Hmm . . . lunch specials. Those should be small. Quick, look it over and figure it out. Orange chicken! It's chicken! It's a lean protein! DONE!
My now defunct counter-part arrived shortly after me and ordered exactly what I did. It made me feel like I made the right move 'cause she's stick thin. Back in the day, five months ago, I would try to discuss with her my weight loss and how I was trying to be conscious of what I ate. She would join in and tell me how fat she is, too, because she's all the way up to 130. I'm surprised I didn't get violent at times like that.
When lunch came, it wasn't small at all. Dam it, dam it, dam it. Remember, girl, split the plate in half. You've already eaten, you probably won't even eat half of it. What is she eating? Try to model it after her. She's really chowing down on that chicken. Huh. How is she so dam skinny? I mean, fuck. Wait! FOCUS! That's right! Focus! Focus on the soup and salad. Let that fill in the gaps and nibble on the chicken. Skip the rice all together.
At the end of the meal I had a cup of soup - low points, good. Salad with somewhere around a tablespoon of dressing - low points, good. One egg roll, I couldn't help it. Surprisingly low points, I can work that in - good. Let's see, I ate about a cup of the chicken, probably more like 3/4ths of a cup. WHAT THE HELL!!!?? You've gotta be kidding me? Orange chicken is HOW MANY POINTS? That's gotta be wrong. Are all the dishes that many points? Hmm . . no, no they are not. I managed to order the one item with the highest amount of points. Good job. Well, let's see how this will work out.
Yup, I've run a deficit. Well, Let's do the total math. Hmm. If I don't eat anything for the rest of the day, or use my last two extra points for today, and stay strict on track tomorrow, I should be able to come in at my point level.
I just know that tonight I'm going to be glaring at Brian while he eats the curry we made last night, and I nibble on tasteless California tomatoes. This better be worth it . . . . .
Listening To: Morningside by Sara Barielles
Mood: Happy and Bouncy
I'm a huge believer in the crunchy on the outside, and soft and explosive on the inside. I can spot the perfect fry, and am very picky about my egg rolls. It's incredibly difficult to find a good egg roll in this city, and I found them at a restaurant down the street that I usually get delivery from. When I drive by and take a look at it tho, I deny it's where I really order from. They also have an amazing curry, and I can usually get white meat only chicken for a buck extra. Ah, those were the days. Not much unlike today where I found myself eating an egg roll.
To understand the situation completely, I have to explain that the week was nothing that I had planned on. It started out the way I expected, but lunches morphed into something that was totally unplanned for and totally uncalled for.
On Monday and Tuesday I was working with the High School. We had set up camp at the Middle School this week to get 'em while they're young, wait that was private industry, I meant to transition the eighth graders to High School. I packed up my lunch on Monday, like the good little dieter I am, only to discover that the counselors wanted to have lunch together. Wait. This isn't what I planned! We never have lunch together! What? You want to have Mexican food? You guys are trying to keep me fat, aren't you? This is bullshit. Am I hyperventilating? Where the hell is my phone?
I reached out to those who have been a ridiculous support team for me in the whole process - Brian and my comrade, Maia. I also reached out to one of the chicklet twins 'cause I figured if I wanna be a skinny bitch, I should ask one what she would order. Yeah, she was no help. Brian and Maia did their best to help me come up with a solution. Oder and only eat half? Don't go? Then I got it! I would have the lunch I brought before we go! It filled me up enough to resist the tacos they were shoving at me but I did sneak a few chips and salsa in there, all counted in my points! I was pretty proud of myself.
On Tuesday the chicklet twins were also working at the middle school, 'cause that is their regular internship placement. They were easier to negotiate with on lunch, and I split the meal with the aforementioned twin. Bless her little heart.
Today, well, today was a totally different story. Those Glaceau guys reached out to me, wanting to have lunch on Wednesday, to return my computer and sign the final lay off paperwork. They wanted to meet early in the day, but I had a commitment at the adult school that couldn't be changed. So I told them to go ahead and have lunch without me, and I would meet them later to turn in my computer and sign the paperwork. I knew it was a tight fit, and at first I thought I could pound down one of my weight watcher meals and head out to Buena Park for the meeting. That didn't happen, and by the time I left the adult school I was starving and I didn't want to sit through this meeting starving, besides I had stuff I had to do later in the day as well. I can't go hungry. I need to dashboard dine. But where? Hmmmmmm. No tacos. Those are too hard to eat on the freeway and it won't fill me up. A hamburger? Maybe a small, simple one. I remember them being like 6 points, or something. Perfect.
I pulled up to the golden arches and took a look at the menu. Wait a minute, chicken mcnuggets. Those are even less. I'll get the kids meal! 4 mcnuggets and a small fry. Perfect portion size, and I could totally work that into my points today! Yay solutions!! And no, I don't want a drink. I don't care if 'it comes with it' lady, I told you no drink. Really? You really want me to have a drink. You got some water behind that counter? Bottled? Sure, whatever. You're really pushing those drinks. No wonder we're all fat.
As I pulled up to Panda-something in Buena, I had finished eating my fries and mcnuggets and didn't have one iota of guilt. I was comfortably full and had no real interest in Chinese food. They were supposed to have met at 11:30, so they should just be finishing up. Perfect. I walked up to their table and found, wait, what was that? . . . MENUS!!?? What the fuck, did they not eat? Oh crap they waited for me. As much as I wanted to scream bullshit, it was a really nice gesture. Dam it, dam it, dam it. What the hell am I going to do now? I can't turn down the final lunch! That would be such a bad gesture, and they waited for me. Hmm . . . lunch specials. Those should be small. Quick, look it over and figure it out. Orange chicken! It's chicken! It's a lean protein! DONE!
My now defunct counter-part arrived shortly after me and ordered exactly what I did. It made me feel like I made the right move 'cause she's stick thin. Back in the day, five months ago, I would try to discuss with her my weight loss and how I was trying to be conscious of what I ate. She would join in and tell me how fat she is, too, because she's all the way up to 130. I'm surprised I didn't get violent at times like that.
When lunch came, it wasn't small at all. Dam it, dam it, dam it. Remember, girl, split the plate in half. You've already eaten, you probably won't even eat half of it. What is she eating? Try to model it after her. She's really chowing down on that chicken. Huh. How is she so dam skinny? I mean, fuck. Wait! FOCUS! That's right! Focus! Focus on the soup and salad. Let that fill in the gaps and nibble on the chicken. Skip the rice all together.
At the end of the meal I had a cup of soup - low points, good. Salad with somewhere around a tablespoon of dressing - low points, good. One egg roll, I couldn't help it. Surprisingly low points, I can work that in - good. Let's see, I ate about a cup of the chicken, probably more like 3/4ths of a cup. WHAT THE HELL!!!?? You've gotta be kidding me? Orange chicken is HOW MANY POINTS? That's gotta be wrong. Are all the dishes that many points? Hmm . . no, no they are not. I managed to order the one item with the highest amount of points. Good job. Well, let's see how this will work out.
Yup, I've run a deficit. Well, Let's do the total math. Hmm. If I don't eat anything for the rest of the day, or use my last two extra points for today, and stay strict on track tomorrow, I should be able to come in at my point level.
I just know that tonight I'm going to be glaring at Brian while he eats the curry we made last night, and I nibble on tasteless California tomatoes. This better be worth it . . . . .
Friday, March 27, 2009
Five Pounds Lighter
Weight: 5 lbs. lighter
Listening to: Starry Eyed Surprise by Oakenfold
Mood: Pretty Damn Happy
Brian and I share this drawer in the bathroom, where we keep hairbrushes, toothpaste, all the essentials - and it's an absolute mess. I've been saying we need to get a drawer organizer to the point of where he no longer wants to hear about it. I finally found that organizer today at Century City, which is where I found myself after my weight watchers meeting this morning.
When I initially went into the meeting, I was begging God to let me have lost just one pound. Not GAIN, mind you, God, but LOSE. I was growing a little impatient in line because it takes a lot to work up the nerve to step on that scale and watch the numbers spin like a slot machine. When it was finally my turn, I did the ritual, take off anything that isn't vital - shoes, purse, jacket - and stepped onto that platform of torture. As I watched the number spin, I was quick to realize that it was a lower number then last week. Wait . . . a lot lower then I was expecting. Are you sure the scale is right? Hold on, this is going too quick, I can't do the math. I was half way to sitting in a seat when the leader announced it was my second week - round of applause. Then she announced I had lost FIVE POUNDS!!! Gasps all around me, the applause seemed louder this time and I was getting ready to cry. Hold it together, girl, it's just five pounds, let's not make yourself out to be a blubbering idiot over five pounds. I told them all about my blog, with giggles all around when I mentioned the title. How do you start something like that? People were asking. Huh. Maybe this was a good idea after all.
After the meeting was over, I took away the message of eating out - are you eating out because it's easy or because it's a special occasion. Okay, got it. I wasn't even out the door when I was texting people "OH MY GAWD! FIVE POUNDS!!" What do I do with myself? I mean, damn, five pounds. I need to reward myself somehow. Candy bar? No, that will just add fuel to the never ending fire of cravings. Panda Express for lunch? Well, that will take all of my extra points for the week, and I'm holding out for Cafe Bravo on Monday. What the hell do I do?
Then I remembered my favorite perfume - Ginger Essence by Origins. The next thing I knew, I as headed to Century City. I knew it was a big reward, for really such a small accomplishment on a long road but hell, do you have any idea what I had to do to accomplish that? I fought off chicken strips, french fries and Reese’s peanut butter cups! As soon as I sprayed a little on myself I said "Good job, girl" and smiled.
I met my mom for lunch and I had the rotisserie chicken - no extra sauce, with a double serving of vegetables.
Listening to: Starry Eyed Surprise by Oakenfold
Mood: Pretty Damn Happy
Brian and I share this drawer in the bathroom, where we keep hairbrushes, toothpaste, all the essentials - and it's an absolute mess. I've been saying we need to get a drawer organizer to the point of where he no longer wants to hear about it. I finally found that organizer today at Century City, which is where I found myself after my weight watchers meeting this morning.
When I initially went into the meeting, I was begging God to let me have lost just one pound. Not GAIN, mind you, God, but LOSE. I was growing a little impatient in line because it takes a lot to work up the nerve to step on that scale and watch the numbers spin like a slot machine. When it was finally my turn, I did the ritual, take off anything that isn't vital - shoes, purse, jacket - and stepped onto that platform of torture. As I watched the number spin, I was quick to realize that it was a lower number then last week. Wait . . . a lot lower then I was expecting. Are you sure the scale is right? Hold on, this is going too quick, I can't do the math. I was half way to sitting in a seat when the leader announced it was my second week - round of applause. Then she announced I had lost FIVE POUNDS!!! Gasps all around me, the applause seemed louder this time and I was getting ready to cry. Hold it together, girl, it's just five pounds, let's not make yourself out to be a blubbering idiot over five pounds. I told them all about my blog, with giggles all around when I mentioned the title. How do you start something like that? People were asking. Huh. Maybe this was a good idea after all.
After the meeting was over, I took away the message of eating out - are you eating out because it's easy or because it's a special occasion. Okay, got it. I wasn't even out the door when I was texting people "OH MY GAWD! FIVE POUNDS!!" What do I do with myself? I mean, damn, five pounds. I need to reward myself somehow. Candy bar? No, that will just add fuel to the never ending fire of cravings. Panda Express for lunch? Well, that will take all of my extra points for the week, and I'm holding out for Cafe Bravo on Monday. What the hell do I do?
Then I remembered my favorite perfume - Ginger Essence by Origins. The next thing I knew, I as headed to Century City. I knew it was a big reward, for really such a small accomplishment on a long road but hell, do you have any idea what I had to do to accomplish that? I fought off chicken strips, french fries and Reese’s peanut butter cups! As soon as I sprayed a little on myself I said "Good job, girl" and smiled.
I met my mom for lunch and I had the rotisserie chicken - no extra sauce, with a double serving of vegetables.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
It Always Begins and Ends With Gavin
Weight: Still Fat
Listening To: The Way I Are By Timbaland
Mood: Hung over, still
A few months ago, Brian and I purchased a new couch for the living room. It's a natural brown, microfiber, with a chaise lounge. In short, it's fabulous. Outside of the bed, it's my first major furniture purchase, and it was a rather thrilling event.
I was sitting on that very couch last night, trying not to think about food while I was waiting for Brian to get home so we could have dinner. Then came the text - What are you doing? It was Gavin, the guy I've known a few life times over. He wanted to go to happy hour in Santa Monica at the Enterprise Fish Co., 'cause they apparently have the best happy hour in town. After some whining about rush hour traffic, and a quick calculation of my points, I was headed out the door. I had some extra points in my pocket, so I figured one drink, a small something grilled, and some veggies and I would be set! Yeah, that's not what happened.
I sit down with Gav, and drill him about how he knows nothing about my East LA gig - does he not check my status updates on Facebook? Apparently not!!! In the haze of that evening with him, I manage to go through 4 drinks, some bread and garlic butter, a couple of fried shrimp, a grilled artichoke and chips and salsa. At one point, I think he was yelling "Points! Points!" at me. Details surrounding the gorge are a little hazy.
About an hour and a half in, my bestie Zara joins us. She has the body of a goddess, and if she wasn't such a cool chick I think I may just hate her for it. Once she arrived, I came out of my food coma, and managed to put a halt to it all. Maybe just being around her helps to remind me why I'm starving myself to begin with? Once Gav left, I confessed my food sin and she didn't hate me for it. She just said that if it was her, she would consider that her dinner. Yeah, dinner. I'm into it!
Regardless of what happened last night, I will never forget the screaming headache I had from my hang over as I was trying to tell one of my students they aren't going to graduate on time. Ah, memories.
Listening To: The Way I Are By Timbaland
Mood: Hung over, still
A few months ago, Brian and I purchased a new couch for the living room. It's a natural brown, microfiber, with a chaise lounge. In short, it's fabulous. Outside of the bed, it's my first major furniture purchase, and it was a rather thrilling event.
I was sitting on that very couch last night, trying not to think about food while I was waiting for Brian to get home so we could have dinner. Then came the text - What are you doing? It was Gavin, the guy I've known a few life times over. He wanted to go to happy hour in Santa Monica at the Enterprise Fish Co., 'cause they apparently have the best happy hour in town. After some whining about rush hour traffic, and a quick calculation of my points, I was headed out the door. I had some extra points in my pocket, so I figured one drink, a small something grilled, and some veggies and I would be set! Yeah, that's not what happened.
I sit down with Gav, and drill him about how he knows nothing about my East LA gig - does he not check my status updates on Facebook? Apparently not!!! In the haze of that evening with him, I manage to go through 4 drinks, some bread and garlic butter, a couple of fried shrimp, a grilled artichoke and chips and salsa. At one point, I think he was yelling "Points! Points!" at me. Details surrounding the gorge are a little hazy.
About an hour and a half in, my bestie Zara joins us. She has the body of a goddess, and if she wasn't such a cool chick I think I may just hate her for it. Once she arrived, I came out of my food coma, and managed to put a halt to it all. Maybe just being around her helps to remind me why I'm starving myself to begin with? Once Gav left, I confessed my food sin and she didn't hate me for it. She just said that if it was her, she would consider that her dinner. Yeah, dinner. I'm into it!
Regardless of what happened last night, I will never forget the screaming headache I had from my hang over as I was trying to tell one of my students they aren't going to graduate on time. Ah, memories.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Chicken Strips and French Fries
Weight: Still fat
Listening To: Beautiful silence
Mood: Fussy, but mellow
In a way, I'm a french fry consesouir. The perfect fry is crisp and light on the outside, so when you bite into it, you get that crunch. Then the inside comes pouring out, like a burst, which is warm and soft, almost melts in your mouth. The best french fry I've ever had has been at McDonald's. The worst french fry - well, that's been all over the place and not limited to In and Out, regardless of what you might say.
On Monday I started a new quarter of classes, and the teacher decided he was going to hold us until 9:30pm - the absolute latest time he can hold us until. He really didn't have anything to say, other than repeating himself over and over and over. He just wanted to stroke his *eh-hem* ego, and exercise his power. Whatever.
So being the good little dieter I am, I had packed myself up a day's worth of food the night before, and was fully prepared for any hunger strikes. What I wasn't prepared for were the chicken strips.
I seemed to be the only one that brought any sort of sustenance and sooner or later, the chicklet twins and my comrade in dieting all started to get hungry. At break, I walked with them up to the restaurant and contemplated a small salad with a little bit (wink, wink) of ranch dressing, but calculated the points and decided I was better off with something I already brought.
I didn't pay much attention to what they ordered, but I did pay more attention when it was delivered. Wouldn't you know it, the chicklet twins got chicken strips and my comrade got french fries. Not much of a comrade, eh?
I'm not sure if they noticed, but at the moment of the unveiling, I sat there, sideways in my chair, staring longingly at their chicken strips. They looked so good. They were golden, and perfect, and they even had the ranch dressing to dip them in. Forget it if chicken strips usually makes me sick, they are golden delicious over there!!! So I just stared, longingly. I stared even more then they soaked it down in ranch and took a bite. I could feel the texture in my mouth, almost taste the coolness of the ranch with the crispiness of the chicken strips. So I had to turn around . . . . and be tempted by my partner's french fries. I were right there!! All I had to do was reach over and grab one, she wouldn't know if I timed it right, and if I didn't - hell, it's not like she would kill me over a french fry, or two, maybe three?
I began to wonder how many points these things were, maybe I could make it work. I furiously turned the pages in my points pocket guide . . . french fries, french fries, fuck that's too much. Chicken!! chicken, chicken, chicken . . where are the strips?? Really?? Dam, that sucks for me.
So I pulled the grapes out of my bag, and sat there secretly pouting while I ate them.
Listening To: Beautiful silence
Mood: Fussy, but mellow
In a way, I'm a french fry consesouir. The perfect fry is crisp and light on the outside, so when you bite into it, you get that crunch. Then the inside comes pouring out, like a burst, which is warm and soft, almost melts in your mouth. The best french fry I've ever had has been at McDonald's. The worst french fry - well, that's been all over the place and not limited to In and Out, regardless of what you might say.
On Monday I started a new quarter of classes, and the teacher decided he was going to hold us until 9:30pm - the absolute latest time he can hold us until. He really didn't have anything to say, other than repeating himself over and over and over. He just wanted to stroke his *eh-hem* ego, and exercise his power. Whatever.
So being the good little dieter I am, I had packed myself up a day's worth of food the night before, and was fully prepared for any hunger strikes. What I wasn't prepared for were the chicken strips.
I seemed to be the only one that brought any sort of sustenance and sooner or later, the chicklet twins and my comrade in dieting all started to get hungry. At break, I walked with them up to the restaurant and contemplated a small salad with a little bit (wink, wink) of ranch dressing, but calculated the points and decided I was better off with something I already brought.
I didn't pay much attention to what they ordered, but I did pay more attention when it was delivered. Wouldn't you know it, the chicklet twins got chicken strips and my comrade got french fries. Not much of a comrade, eh?
I'm not sure if they noticed, but at the moment of the unveiling, I sat there, sideways in my chair, staring longingly at their chicken strips. They looked so good. They were golden, and perfect, and they even had the ranch dressing to dip them in. Forget it if chicken strips usually makes me sick, they are golden delicious over there!!! So I just stared, longingly. I stared even more then they soaked it down in ranch and took a bite. I could feel the texture in my mouth, almost taste the coolness of the ranch with the crispiness of the chicken strips. So I had to turn around . . . . and be tempted by my partner's french fries. I were right there!! All I had to do was reach over and grab one, she wouldn't know if I timed it right, and if I didn't - hell, it's not like she would kill me over a french fry, or two, maybe three?
I began to wonder how many points these things were, maybe I could make it work. I furiously turned the pages in my points pocket guide . . . french fries, french fries, fuck that's too much. Chicken!! chicken, chicken, chicken . . where are the strips?? Really?? Dam, that sucks for me.
So I pulled the grapes out of my bag, and sat there secretly pouting while I ate them.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Hello My Old Friends
Weight: Still Fat
Listening to: The Basketball Game Bri is Watching
Feeling: Curious
Shortly after I posted by first blog and decided to go public to my friends and family to keep up the pressure of "I can do this . . " I got an amazing response. Girls I thought totally didn't have weight issues, did. Maybe I wasn't the only fat girl out there . . . .
In any case I went to my final today, and am now officially on vacation . . . . for a day and a half. As we were sitting in the hall, waiting for someone to unlock the door to the class room, the chicklet twins came down the hall. Two adorably sweet girls, but also two adorably sweet girls that are just as skinny as I was in High School. Bitches.
We chit chatted and finally got into the class. Once we sat down, I took a look around at all the yummy treats everyone had in front of them. Coffees, muffins . . . . as I looked at them all, I felt myself getting angry and jealous over their treats. I started to imagine they were the most amazing treats in the world, and damn it, I bet some of them even have hot chocolate!!!
So I took a walk to the vending machine. Can't tell you why, just did. Yup, the Dorritos were still in there. Oh, and so were the Reese's Peanut Butter cups. I longingly stared at my old friends and wondered if there were new friends to be made. A nutrition-nut bar of some sort there, trail mix here. We were never friends. I don't think we ever will be.
So I walked away from the machine, hands empty.
Listening to: The Basketball Game Bri is Watching
Feeling: Curious
Shortly after I posted by first blog and decided to go public to my friends and family to keep up the pressure of "I can do this . . " I got an amazing response. Girls I thought totally didn't have weight issues, did. Maybe I wasn't the only fat girl out there . . . .
In any case I went to my final today, and am now officially on vacation . . . . for a day and a half. As we were sitting in the hall, waiting for someone to unlock the door to the class room, the chicklet twins came down the hall. Two adorably sweet girls, but also two adorably sweet girls that are just as skinny as I was in High School. Bitches.
We chit chatted and finally got into the class. Once we sat down, I took a look around at all the yummy treats everyone had in front of them. Coffees, muffins . . . . as I looked at them all, I felt myself getting angry and jealous over their treats. I started to imagine they were the most amazing treats in the world, and damn it, I bet some of them even have hot chocolate!!!
So I took a walk to the vending machine. Can't tell you why, just did. Yup, the Dorritos were still in there. Oh, and so were the Reese's Peanut Butter cups. I longingly stared at my old friends and wondered if there were new friends to be made. A nutrition-nut bar of some sort there, trail mix here. We were never friends. I don't think we ever will be.
So I walked away from the machine, hands empty.
The Day I Started
You know that I can direct you to some of the best Mac 'n Cheese in Los Angeles? It's true, and if you need directions, or company, let me know. I have always had an obsession with Mac 'n Cheese. But that's not where it all started. It all started when I quit smoking and started buying Dorritos. Much to my beau's dismay I used food to alleviate my oral fixation and before I knew it, I looked in the mirror and I was a whopping 50 lbs. heavier.. Crap. So, through lying to myself, and pretending it just wasn't happening I managed to maintain my newly acquired weight. When Brian left for extended trips, I lost about 20lbs, but when my party-loving beau came back, so did the 20 lbs.. Crap, again.
So this morning I found myself in a weight watchers center. I thought I just might burst into flames the minute I stepped on the scale, but it was relatively painless. The good news - I haven't gained much since my last meeting with them five months ago. The bad news - I'm still fat. So I got through the meeting without having a nervous breakdown, and decided to post some of their sayings up around my kitchen. Some quips like:
Feelings are waves, choose which ones you will ride.
Acknowledge your feelings, don't feed them (Which is now scrolling on the bottom on my computer. I wonder how long that will take to annoy me.).
I hope my never-gain-one-pound-no-matter-what beau doesn't mind having them posted all over the place, 'cause they're gonna be!
So good bye creamy curries - I will miss you. Good bye big boxes of Buncha Crunch -you were all too happy to accompany me to the movies. Good bye restaurant chips and salsa - you were always a good friend. Good bye to the creamy goodness of mac 'n cheese - you comforted me on the worst of days. Good bye tempura - I will miss you the most.
Now, how am I gonna make it though lunch with Naveen on Sunday? Things are about to get interesting . . . . .
So this morning I found myself in a weight watchers center. I thought I just might burst into flames the minute I stepped on the scale, but it was relatively painless. The good news - I haven't gained much since my last meeting with them five months ago. The bad news - I'm still fat. So I got through the meeting without having a nervous breakdown, and decided to post some of their sayings up around my kitchen. Some quips like:
Feelings are waves, choose which ones you will ride.
Acknowledge your feelings, don't feed them (Which is now scrolling on the bottom on my computer. I wonder how long that will take to annoy me.).
I hope my never-gain-one-pound-no-matter-what beau doesn't mind having them posted all over the place, 'cause they're gonna be!
So good bye creamy curries - I will miss you. Good bye big boxes of Buncha Crunch -you were all too happy to accompany me to the movies. Good bye restaurant chips and salsa - you were always a good friend. Good bye to the creamy goodness of mac 'n cheese - you comforted me on the worst of days. Good bye tempura - I will miss you the most.
Now, how am I gonna make it though lunch with Naveen on Sunday? Things are about to get interesting . . . . .
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