04/26/2011
285.2 lbs
Today is a so-so day.
I received some very valid constructive criticism today. It stung. Mostly because it's true.
So I have an established position in my career. I've been in my industry for 7 years which is nothing to balk at. (I hate ending sentences in prepositions, btw.) You all know that mostly I'm clever, charming, witty and fun. Well, I also have a brain and apparently I haven't been showing that feature off enough in the right circles.
You all know I travel. I go to conferences, conventions, meetings, what-have-yous on a very regular basis. I do have a good time, but I don't wimp out of my responsibilities either. I've always gone with the "Work Hard/Play Hard" mentality. It's worked for me up to now, because the same people I was playing hard with, also saw the work hard part. Well, when you're dealing with a "national level" or something bigger than your immediate daily reach, this isn't so much the case. Damn.
I plan on staying in this industry as long as I can. I really want to call it home. I have. I know things and speak as an expert at my home base level, but have what you might call stage fright everywhere else. My safetynet has been socializing. I know, taken on my own, my bright and shiney personality will win anyone over. HOWEVER. I have never felt comfortable to move past that. I feel like a big phony. Actually, I know I am.
I lack confidence.
Shocker, right? I've come a long way in life and have had to deal with many unpleasantries as most everyone who has or ever will come across this blog. I've climbed through, persevered and ended up mostly satisfied with life. The point, though, is that where I thought I had it all figured out was my career. I don't have marriage, I don't have kids, I have career. I'm happy with that choice. But, what happens when that falters? When I realize that I am not as solid in this aspect as I thought. How does it make any other area of my life which desperately needs attention (i.e.: or e.g.: I never know which is the appropriate one to use my weight) have a glimmer of a chance to be successful? There is a bigger picture here which needs to be addressed and, while I've known it for some time, I'm only just realizing it.
My mom came to visit for Easter. It was great to see her. It had been since Christmas. Long time, I know. She does not appreciate self-deprecating humor. So, the joke this weekend was, "I know I'm smart, but I'm kindof an Idiot". It's amazing how versatile that is. And how true. I have a brain and I don't always use it. I'm too old for that. Too established, too. My little criticism today pointed that out.
It could be worse, though.
Last week, I shat myself.
-jafg
Showing posts with label WTF. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WTF. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Whirlwind Update
03/16/2010
279.6 lbs
That was yesterday's weight. Today...it's a little higher, so I think I'll stick with that.
Kids, SO much has happened in the few weeks I've been gone. Firstly, I saw LDL. Boy, did I see him. A lot. Like many, many, many times. Repeatedly. I saw him. It was good. It was really good. I think you get the point.
Secondly, I haven't hit my gym up with Li'l Bit since being back in town. This is a bad thing. I have managed to lose a few lbs and keep them off since the CHALLENGE last month. This is a good thing. MAC (said challenger and ADVERSARY) is now with child. Shit. I'm SO happy for her, but now the whole percentage of loss thing...totally no longer applicable. Doesn't mean I'm no longer motivated. It just means I have to find someone else to blame for my pain when I exercise. It's always good to have a scapegoat (MAC, I don't think you're a goat...just wanna make that clear).
Holy Followers! I've jumped 5 followers in the few weeks I've been gone. That blows my mind! I am so happy that people like this blog enough to follow it and I've had a steady climb upward, but I've never had such a big jump in numbers before. It's humbling. And, of course, it feeds my ego. Ironic, I know, but it does work both ways.
I have a crazy summer formulating. The next few months have a lot going on socially. Great motivation for keeping on track. Also, lots of reasons to panic a bit since a few involve bathing suits. I can do it, I just have to gear up for it. You know what I mean.
To top everything off, I met someone locally. It's such a new, budding possibility I don't want to talk about it in detail right now. It's confusing because of LDL. But, then again, there's the L-D part of the equation which really sucks. Ugh. I see him again in May. Months between visits is not condusive for growing into anything more than whatever it is we are now.
WTH??? When did my life become so damn complicated????
Oh. Yeah. When sex came back into it.
It is a calorie burner, tho.
-jafg
279.6 lbs
That was yesterday's weight. Today...it's a little higher, so I think I'll stick with that.
Kids, SO much has happened in the few weeks I've been gone. Firstly, I saw LDL. Boy, did I see him. A lot. Like many, many, many times. Repeatedly. I saw him. It was good. It was really good. I think you get the point.
Secondly, I haven't hit my gym up with Li'l Bit since being back in town. This is a bad thing. I have managed to lose a few lbs and keep them off since the CHALLENGE last month. This is a good thing. MAC (said challenger and ADVERSARY) is now with child. Shit. I'm SO happy for her, but now the whole percentage of loss thing...totally no longer applicable. Doesn't mean I'm no longer motivated. It just means I have to find someone else to blame for my pain when I exercise. It's always good to have a scapegoat (MAC, I don't think you're a goat...just wanna make that clear).
Holy Followers! I've jumped 5 followers in the few weeks I've been gone. That blows my mind! I am so happy that people like this blog enough to follow it and I've had a steady climb upward, but I've never had such a big jump in numbers before. It's humbling. And, of course, it feeds my ego. Ironic, I know, but it does work both ways.
I have a crazy summer formulating. The next few months have a lot going on socially. Great motivation for keeping on track. Also, lots of reasons to panic a bit since a few involve bathing suits. I can do it, I just have to gear up for it. You know what I mean.
To top everything off, I met someone locally. It's such a new, budding possibility I don't want to talk about it in detail right now. It's confusing because of LDL. But, then again, there's the L-D part of the equation which really sucks. Ugh. I see him again in May. Months between visits is not condusive for growing into anything more than whatever it is we are now.
WTH??? When did my life become so damn complicated????
Oh. Yeah. When sex came back into it.
It is a calorie burner, tho.
-jafg
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Happy New Year. Again. (Yea Rabbits!)
02/03/2011
???.? lbs
I know what that number is but weight is a reality that I choose not to face today.
So today is the Chinese New Year. The Year of the Hare. I'm a hare. Well, really, if you read what the traits are for the hare, you'd laugh at that. Cause they don't match up. Except for the hyper-sexual-and-super-social part. And who thinks rabbits are super social, anyway??
It's been over a week since my last post. I hope you don't feel abandoned. I do feel a little guilty. I can't help it, though. Things have been busy. Firstly, the first month of the year is always MAD busy at work. Like every last minute is usually put to something wicked productive. Which leaves me little time to meander into JAFG land. Then, of course, there is LDL (which is not a reference to my cholesterol levels, btw). My glasses are definitely still steamy. Despite all this, I decided I'm making time this morning to post.
Those of you who have been around for the long haul know that I mostly just write about my experiences. I don't really philosophize except to examine my own lot in life. As the blog says, it's about my love/hate relationship with the world of weight. Sometimes, that deals with the fit of clothing, sometimes food, sometimes exercise, a lot of times smoking... But lately... Well, lately I've been thinking about sex.
I'm nervous. It will be 4 months since the last time (also first time) that I've spent face-to-face time with LDL, the next time I see him. Did that make sense? Granted we spent quality time together, but that was 4 months ago. That's a long time. Especially when you're talking about sex.
I can't spend more than 5 minutes of conversation time chatting with him without wanting to crawl through the phone and, well, you know. There's still plenty of heat, but where has this nervousness come from? My misgivings about talking to someone and then meeting them are of no consequence. We met in person through a mutual acquaintance. I can't say the guy isn't interested. HE approached ME. He also talks a pretty hot game. So, why am I so nervous?
Well, I talk a big game and there are certain aspects of the bedroom that I know I have no problem with, but, truth be told...I'm no expert. There are things that even in my 35 years of living I have yet to check off my 'to-do' list. There are things I'd like to do but feel that there are physical limitations. How does one approach this? How do I figure these things out without completely feeling like a fool in the heat of the moment. And then there are the things I like. Well, actually, I'm not so worried about that. I know how to give directions.
So back to the point. I'm nervous. It's sad to say this is the longest pseudo-relationship I've had in years. Well, since I've been in Small Southern City which has been, Lord....2 years this month! All this time and all this distance have really allowed some healthy anticipation to mix with a lot of unhealthy doubt. Shit.
I am a self-saboteur. I can recognize it (even if I haven't figured out how to completely overcome it). So now, I'm lost in my head and trying to only focus on the goal: Get Lucky. I keep telling myself that none of my imaginary hype will matter. When it's all said and done, and we're finally co-habitating the same space, I know we'll just go at it like rabbits.
But not jack rabbits, hopefully.
-jafg
???.? lbs
I know what that number is but weight is a reality that I choose not to face today.
So today is the Chinese New Year. The Year of the Hare. I'm a hare. Well, really, if you read what the traits are for the hare, you'd laugh at that. Cause they don't match up. Except for the hyper-sexual-and-super-social part. And who thinks rabbits are super social, anyway??
It's been over a week since my last post. I hope you don't feel abandoned. I do feel a little guilty. I can't help it, though. Things have been busy. Firstly, the first month of the year is always MAD busy at work. Like every last minute is usually put to something wicked productive. Which leaves me little time to meander into JAFG land. Then, of course, there is LDL (which is not a reference to my cholesterol levels, btw). My glasses are definitely still steamy. Despite all this, I decided I'm making time this morning to post.
Those of you who have been around for the long haul know that I mostly just write about my experiences. I don't really philosophize except to examine my own lot in life. As the blog says, it's about my love/hate relationship with the world of weight. Sometimes, that deals with the fit of clothing, sometimes food, sometimes exercise, a lot of times smoking... But lately... Well, lately I've been thinking about sex.
Yes. Sex.
I'm nervous. It will be 4 months since the last time (also first time) that I've spent face-to-face time with LDL, the next time I see him. Did that make sense? Granted we spent quality time together, but that was 4 months ago. That's a long time. Especially when you're talking about sex.
I can't spend more than 5 minutes of conversation time chatting with him without wanting to crawl through the phone and, well, you know. There's still plenty of heat, but where has this nervousness come from? My misgivings about talking to someone and then meeting them are of no consequence. We met in person through a mutual acquaintance. I can't say the guy isn't interested. HE approached ME. He also talks a pretty hot game. So, why am I so nervous?
Well, I talk a big game and there are certain aspects of the bedroom that I know I have no problem with, but, truth be told...I'm no expert. There are things that even in my 35 years of living I have yet to check off my 'to-do' list. There are things I'd like to do but feel that there are physical limitations. How does one approach this? How do I figure these things out without completely feeling like a fool in the heat of the moment. And then there are the things I like. Well, actually, I'm not so worried about that. I know how to give directions.
So back to the point. I'm nervous. It's sad to say this is the longest pseudo-relationship I've had in years. Well, since I've been in Small Southern City which has been, Lord....2 years this month! All this time and all this distance have really allowed some healthy anticipation to mix with a lot of unhealthy doubt. Shit.
I am a self-saboteur. I can recognize it (even if I haven't figured out how to completely overcome it). So now, I'm lost in my head and trying to only focus on the goal: Get Lucky. I keep telling myself that none of my imaginary hype will matter. When it's all said and done, and we're finally co-habitating the same space, I know we'll just go at it like rabbits.
But not jack rabbits, hopefully.
-jafg
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Just Another Funny Story. This Has Nothing To Do With Fat.
01/13/2011
283.4 lbs
I have a feeling I'm really going to hate that I've been guessing all week.
So, I'm 35. I don't look it, actually most people are shocked when they find out. I'm usually guessed at about 26-29. Although, I really don't believe the people who say 26, I do so LOVE the people who say 29. Hell, Even the ones that guess 32. I believe it's because #1 I've got a full face and full faces don't show wrinkles, and #2 I don't wear foundation. I use liquid eyeliner for my top lids, blush and lipstick. When I go out, I use mineral make-up and eyeshadow. And I try to moisturize regularly. But I don't drink enough water. I should work on that.
So ok. I really do have a point. I'm 35. I had an unhappy "who-who" in November. I was wondering if it was possible to catch some sexually transmitted disease through texting [refer to yesterday's LDL post ;-) ]when I went to visit a new g-y-n because weird things were happening in the below-the-belt area. Doc said I had an estrogen shortage. She gave me these little pills of estrogen to take for two weeks. They came preloaded in a pill injector. Yeah. I didn't take these orally. It was a weird experience.
So, I'm 35 and I have this thing called PCOS. I was diagnosed with it a few years ago. A lot of heavy girls are diagnosed with this. It gives you hair in places you don't want (and I've got an ethnically diverse background, this happens already), makes it difficult for pregnancy (not really an issue for me, per say), and means that hormones are hokey. I've also had an irregular cycle (read as nearly non-existent) all my life. With one exception: When I'm on Birth Control. Which was from about 21-27 years of age. I smoked then and wasn't too concerned because the "you shouldn't smoke while taking The Pill...Especially women over 35" didn't apply to me. It was so far away. 35 that is.
So that brings me back to my point. I'm 35. I've been placed back on The Pill. Doc did it to regulate me (turns out the thickening of your uterine lining greatly increases your chances for all sorts of cancers) and balance out my hormones which will help with the PCOS. She did this to me on November 28. About 3 hours after leaving her office, she calls me. Here's the conversation.
DOC: "I use my lunch time to review the charts of my new patients. I see you're 35." -No. Shit.- "It says here you smoke." -She called me just for this?- "You can't smoke and take The Pill." -Damn my honesty on my new patient forms!- "The risks for a stroke or heart attack are too high."
ME: "But I only smoke, like, 4 or 5 cigarettes a day. A pack can almost last me a week!" Desparation is really starting to set in.
DOC: "It's smoking. There's really no safe level. Especially on The Pill. You're 35." -I heard that the first time.- "You need to make a decision."
I like her and hate her all at the same time. I tell her that since it's only "a few a day", it shouldn't be a big deal to quit. It's a nasty habit with no redeeming qualities. A guilty pleasure whose guilt should outweigh the pleasure. Blah. Blah. Blah. So. Ok. I'm going to quit. Again. :-|
I've got a Pharmacist in the family. I ask her and every other Pharmacist I meet about this whole smoking and The Pill thing. Surely one every now and then would be ok. A little snack once in awhile shouldn't hurt.
The answer is always the same. "It's not recommended, especially for women your age." Bastards.
It's been a process through the Holiday Merriment. I made a solid commitment on January 3rd and haven't smoked once since the 4th. So, I'm on day 10 of smoke-free living. Go Me! I traded smoking for bleeding and wacked emotions on a monthly basis. On a good note, taking The Pill has made my boobs bigger. I don't remember that happening the first time around.
Oh. Doc ends the conversation like this.
DOC: "I'm scheduling you for a mamogram. It's time you get one. You're 35."
-Bitch.-
-jafg
283.4 lbs
I have a feeling I'm really going to hate that I've been guessing all week.
So, I'm 35. I don't look it, actually most people are shocked when they find out. I'm usually guessed at about 26-29. Although, I really don't believe the people who say 26, I do so LOVE the people who say 29. Hell, Even the ones that guess 32. I believe it's because #1 I've got a full face and full faces don't show wrinkles, and #2 I don't wear foundation. I use liquid eyeliner for my top lids, blush and lipstick. When I go out, I use mineral make-up and eyeshadow. And I try to moisturize regularly. But I don't drink enough water. I should work on that.
So ok. I really do have a point. I'm 35. I had an unhappy "who-who" in November. I was wondering if it was possible to catch some sexually transmitted disease through texting [refer to yesterday's LDL post ;-) ]when I went to visit a new g-y-n because weird things were happening in the below-the-belt area. Doc said I had an estrogen shortage. She gave me these little pills of estrogen to take for two weeks. They came preloaded in a pill injector. Yeah. I didn't take these orally. It was a weird experience.
So, I'm 35 and I have this thing called PCOS. I was diagnosed with it a few years ago. A lot of heavy girls are diagnosed with this. It gives you hair in places you don't want (and I've got an ethnically diverse background, this happens already), makes it difficult for pregnancy (not really an issue for me, per say), and means that hormones are hokey. I've also had an irregular cycle (read as nearly non-existent) all my life. With one exception: When I'm on Birth Control. Which was from about 21-27 years of age. I smoked then and wasn't too concerned because the "you shouldn't smoke while taking The Pill...Especially women over 35" didn't apply to me. It was so far away. 35 that is.
So that brings me back to my point. I'm 35. I've been placed back on The Pill. Doc did it to regulate me (turns out the thickening of your uterine lining greatly increases your chances for all sorts of cancers) and balance out my hormones which will help with the PCOS. She did this to me on November 28. About 3 hours after leaving her office, she calls me. Here's the conversation.
DOC: "I use my lunch time to review the charts of my new patients. I see you're 35." -No. Shit.- "It says here you smoke." -She called me just for this?- "You can't smoke and take The Pill." -Damn my honesty on my new patient forms!- "The risks for a stroke or heart attack are too high."
ME: "But I only smoke, like, 4 or 5 cigarettes a day. A pack can almost last me a week!" Desparation is really starting to set in.
DOC: "It's smoking. There's really no safe level. Especially on The Pill. You're 35." -I heard that the first time.- "You need to make a decision."
I like her and hate her all at the same time. I tell her that since it's only "a few a day", it shouldn't be a big deal to quit. It's a nasty habit with no redeeming qualities. A guilty pleasure whose guilt should outweigh the pleasure. Blah. Blah. Blah. So. Ok. I'm going to quit. Again. :-|
I've got a Pharmacist in the family. I ask her and every other Pharmacist I meet about this whole smoking and The Pill thing. Surely one every now and then would be ok. A little snack once in awhile shouldn't hurt.
The answer is always the same. "It's not recommended, especially for women your age." Bastards.
It's been a process through the Holiday Merriment. I made a solid commitment on January 3rd and haven't smoked once since the 4th. So, I'm on day 10 of smoke-free living. Go Me! I traded smoking for bleeding and wacked emotions on a monthly basis. On a good note, taking The Pill has made my boobs bigger. I don't remember that happening the first time around.
Oh. Doc ends the conversation like this.
DOC: "I'm scheduling you for a mamogram. It's time you get one. You're 35."
-Bitch.-
-jafg
Monday, December 20, 2010
Oh. Fudge.
12/20/2010
281.4 lbs
I didn't want to weigh this morning, but I did it anyway. For the sake of the Blog.
Thursday night I made a chicken casserole. I had it at a Christmas dinner earlier this month and decided to make it for dinner myself. It's pretty basic. Chicken, campbell's soup, sour cream, and crushed crackers on top. And a stick of butter. Yeah, a whole stick. Well, I substituted panko bread crumbs for the crackers cause I didn't have any Ritz on hand. I looked at the "1 stick of butter" several times trying to figure out what to do about it. I then decided to use less-than-a-whole-but-more-than-a-half-a-stick of butter. I melted it, poured it on and baked the dish in the oven. Two hours later, after eating said casserole, I was miserable to say the least. I stayed home on Friday with a still upset tummy.
This also leads to the feeling of guilt (which I've had more than a few times lately) about my eating habits. I equate it to quitting smoking. When I fail to resist the urge to smoke, I feel really bad about it later--and sometimes while I'm doing it--because it's bad for me. There are no redeeming qualities. None. Not one thing about smoking a cigarette is good. But, I do enjoy it. Love it, even, when the circumstances are right. Granted, the enjoyment is fewer and farther between times and I really don't like the idea of smoking stone cold sober (stress is still a HUGE trigger though) but the fact remains, I enjoy a good smoke like I enjoy a good glass of wine. Or Jack and Coke.
My point with all this is unhealthy eating (like NEARLY a stick of butter in a recipe) is so totally ungood. No redeeming qualities. Nothing good can come from it. Thus the Friday ick-fest. This also takes it's toll mentally. I'm left alone and to my own devices to obsess over what I've done and whatnot. Anyway, it can leave a person in a rather insecure state of mind.
This all leads up to a party Saturday night. SAG (that's Skinny Athletic Girl just as a reminder) and I are going to this shindig together. We decide that if it's a bust, we'll head out on the town. No worries. Well, it's a bizzare group of people and tons of free good booze. So, we stay. Bonus, there's a boy here that I find mentally stimulating. He's very much an adult and easy to converse with and makes a hell of a drink. Laid back, educated, funny, basically, someone either to spend a "safer" fun-filled night with (don't judge!) or consider expanding to a more regular friend thing and possibly connect on facebook. That's what you do these days, btw. You friend people. You don't exchange numbers. It's hard to get used to.
As you may already know, I'm certainly not a wall flower. I'm a confident 30something woman. My size very rarely is a thought in my mind when I'm out on a town and meeting people. Never has been. (Online dating is a whole other topic all together and one we'll discuss at a different time). Remember, though, I'm still fighting a few fresh food demons here.
So, I'm talking with Mr. Potential all night, floating back and forth among the guests who aren't necessarily people that I'd be around regularly but still having a good time. Yes, I may be a bit of a snob, but seriously, who isn't? As the night progresses, things get weird. People are drinking more and well, I realize that the folks I do know are dwindling. SAG has gone to a show and I decided to stay (let's face it, because of Mr. Potential) and continue with the merriment. Before I know it, the hostess is making out with another chick and a male gay couple inform me they like taking women to bed.
W. T. F. I should leave, but for whatever lack-of-judgement reason I do not.
Let me state here that whatever someone's preferences are or are not when it comes to bedroom, does not bother me. Truly. However, I was not prepared for where this party was heading. There's no judgement here, but it was a freakin "Christmas Party"! None of the Christmas parties I've ever attended have ended up like this.
I decide to go outside, smoke a cigarette with Mr. Potential (I've been drinking) and down a shot of tequilla (I've been drinking). Tequilla is never a good thing. I still don't know how I got the shot in the first place. Then, a 6-foot Amazonian 23-year-old comes outside and starts talking about ulcers and migranes. I have a tendancy to give free advice even in my most sober of states. This night was not one of those states. I try to coherently tell her she's way to young to have migranes and ulcers and she tells me it's because she had gastric bypass surgery at 17. She says this like three times before it hits me. "17?!" I say, (again, standing next to Mr. Potential) "17! she says and then procedes with this statement: "I can tell that you're overweight...".
She said some other things after that, but I don't recall actually hearing the words.
Let me let you know how this went down in my head. Have you seen "The Christmas Story"? Remember the scene with the flat tire and Ralphie gets to be a big boy and help his dad change it? And he somehow drops all the lugnuts and also drops the f-bomb "Oh Fudge" line? Well, that slo-mo-drawn-out-hyper-pronounced speaking is how it sounded in my head when I hear the "you're overwieght" part from 23YO Glamazon Chick. To say awkward is an understatement. I'm maintaining my composure, actually trying to sustain the conversation like it's not a big deal, and about 1 minute later, Mr. Potential wanders back inside and I drink more. Like any sensible girl would. Oy. Vey.
I am now so far out of my comfort zone. Straight people are gay. Gay people are straight. And I've been pronounced "overweight" by a 23YO Glamazon in front of Mr. Potential. Bye Bye Healthy Ego. I'm reeling inside. My emotional pshyche is in a tailspin. My head may even be spinning a little from the whole adult beverages thing, as well. And then, the tequilla shot kicks in. Needless to say, tequilla jafg isn't a pretty jafg. She's mean. And now that she feels exposed/rejected, she's on a warpath.
Here's the deal, when you're drunk you make an ass out of yourself. Sometimes, it's remembered as the life of the party, and other times it's remembered as "that crazy chick last night". It's going to end one way or the other. Trust me, this comes from years of experience. I usually stay on the side of life of the party. I'm proficient enough in my 30something years to know where the line is between the two. Well. Saturday night, I crossed it.
I can't really bare re-living the humiliation of the rest of the evening which lasted about 20 more minutes. There were some inappropriate comments I make to The Man Formerly Known as Mr. Potential which led to overheard inappropriate comments and then I left. What the FUDGE was I thinking? I wasn't. I was hurt, embarrassed and wanting to pick a fight. The last part can be partially blamed on the environment and on the tequilla. But, Holy Crazy Parties, I was so not prepared for that evening.
Look, I have tough skin and have dealt with emotional blows enough that I can somewhat quickly recover; or successfully compartmentalize, anyway. Humiliation, either self inflicted or from external sources, isn't easy to admit. I'm trying to find something funny about all this, but really, right now, I can't. I'm a grown-up. I've put my "big girl panties" on so to speak [which really takes on a whole new meaning in this context] and moved forward and won't be attending any more events at that house again. But I'm still licking my wounds.
Thanks for listening. I can't say that I really feel better, but at least I got a blog post out of it.
Also, Mr. Potenial will forevermore be referred to as Mr. Douche.
-jafg
281.4 lbs
I didn't want to weigh this morning, but I did it anyway. For the sake of the Blog.
Thursday night I made a chicken casserole. I had it at a Christmas dinner earlier this month and decided to make it for dinner myself. It's pretty basic. Chicken, campbell's soup, sour cream, and crushed crackers on top. And a stick of butter. Yeah, a whole stick. Well, I substituted panko bread crumbs for the crackers cause I didn't have any Ritz on hand. I looked at the "1 stick of butter" several times trying to figure out what to do about it. I then decided to use less-than-a-whole-but-more-than-a-half-a-stick of butter. I melted it, poured it on and baked the dish in the oven. Two hours later, after eating said casserole, I was miserable to say the least. I stayed home on Friday with a still upset tummy.
This also leads to the feeling of guilt (which I've had more than a few times lately) about my eating habits. I equate it to quitting smoking. When I fail to resist the urge to smoke, I feel really bad about it later--and sometimes while I'm doing it--because it's bad for me. There are no redeeming qualities. None. Not one thing about smoking a cigarette is good. But, I do enjoy it. Love it, even, when the circumstances are right. Granted, the enjoyment is fewer and farther between times and I really don't like the idea of smoking stone cold sober (stress is still a HUGE trigger though) but the fact remains, I enjoy a good smoke like I enjoy a good glass of wine. Or Jack and Coke.
My point with all this is unhealthy eating (like NEARLY a stick of butter in a recipe) is so totally ungood. No redeeming qualities. Nothing good can come from it. Thus the Friday ick-fest. This also takes it's toll mentally. I'm left alone and to my own devices to obsess over what I've done and whatnot. Anyway, it can leave a person in a rather insecure state of mind.
This all leads up to a party Saturday night. SAG (that's Skinny Athletic Girl just as a reminder) and I are going to this shindig together. We decide that if it's a bust, we'll head out on the town. No worries. Well, it's a bizzare group of people and tons of free good booze. So, we stay. Bonus, there's a boy here that I find mentally stimulating. He's very much an adult and easy to converse with and makes a hell of a drink. Laid back, educated, funny, basically, someone either to spend a "safer" fun-filled night with (don't judge!) or consider expanding to a more regular friend thing and possibly connect on facebook. That's what you do these days, btw. You friend people. You don't exchange numbers. It's hard to get used to.
As you may already know, I'm certainly not a wall flower. I'm a confident 30something woman. My size very rarely is a thought in my mind when I'm out on a town and meeting people. Never has been. (Online dating is a whole other topic all together and one we'll discuss at a different time). Remember, though, I'm still fighting a few fresh food demons here.
So, I'm talking with Mr. Potential all night, floating back and forth among the guests who aren't necessarily people that I'd be around regularly but still having a good time. Yes, I may be a bit of a snob, but seriously, who isn't? As the night progresses, things get weird. People are drinking more and well, I realize that the folks I do know are dwindling. SAG has gone to a show and I decided to stay (let's face it, because of Mr. Potential) and continue with the merriment. Before I know it, the hostess is making out with another chick and a male gay couple inform me they like taking women to bed.
W. T. F. I should leave, but for whatever lack-of-judgement reason I do not.
Let me state here that whatever someone's preferences are or are not when it comes to bedroom, does not bother me. Truly. However, I was not prepared for where this party was heading. There's no judgement here, but it was a freakin "Christmas Party"! None of the Christmas parties I've ever attended have ended up like this.
I decide to go outside, smoke a cigarette with Mr. Potential (I've been drinking) and down a shot of tequilla (I've been drinking). Tequilla is never a good thing. I still don't know how I got the shot in the first place. Then, a 6-foot Amazonian 23-year-old comes outside and starts talking about ulcers and migranes. I have a tendancy to give free advice even in my most sober of states. This night was not one of those states. I try to coherently tell her she's way to young to have migranes and ulcers and she tells me it's because she had gastric bypass surgery at 17. She says this like three times before it hits me. "17?!" I say, (again, standing next to Mr. Potential) "17! she says and then procedes with this statement: "I can tell that you're overweight...".
She said some other things after that, but I don't recall actually hearing the words.
Let me let you know how this went down in my head. Have you seen "The Christmas Story"? Remember the scene with the flat tire and Ralphie gets to be a big boy and help his dad change it? And he somehow drops all the lugnuts and also drops the f-bomb "Oh Fudge" line? Well, that slo-mo-drawn-out-hyper-pronounced speaking is how it sounded in my head when I hear the "you're overwieght" part from 23YO Glamazon Chick. To say awkward is an understatement. I'm maintaining my composure, actually trying to sustain the conversation like it's not a big deal, and about 1 minute later, Mr. Potential wanders back inside and I drink more. Like any sensible girl would. Oy. Vey.
I am now so far out of my comfort zone. Straight people are gay. Gay people are straight. And I've been pronounced "overweight" by a 23YO Glamazon in front of Mr. Potential. Bye Bye Healthy Ego. I'm reeling inside. My emotional pshyche is in a tailspin. My head may even be spinning a little from the whole adult beverages thing, as well. And then, the tequilla shot kicks in. Needless to say, tequilla jafg isn't a pretty jafg. She's mean. And now that she feels exposed/rejected, she's on a warpath.
Here's the deal, when you're drunk you make an ass out of yourself. Sometimes, it's remembered as the life of the party, and other times it's remembered as "that crazy chick last night". It's going to end one way or the other. Trust me, this comes from years of experience. I usually stay on the side of life of the party. I'm proficient enough in my 30something years to know where the line is between the two. Well. Saturday night, I crossed it.
I can't really bare re-living the humiliation of the rest of the evening which lasted about 20 more minutes. There were some inappropriate comments I make to The Man Formerly Known as Mr. Potential which led to overheard inappropriate comments and then I left. What the FUDGE was I thinking? I wasn't. I was hurt, embarrassed and wanting to pick a fight. The last part can be partially blamed on the environment and on the tequilla. But, Holy Crazy Parties, I was so not prepared for that evening.
Look, I have tough skin and have dealt with emotional blows enough that I can somewhat quickly recover; or successfully compartmentalize, anyway. Humiliation, either self inflicted or from external sources, isn't easy to admit. I'm trying to find something funny about all this, but really, right now, I can't. I'm a grown-up. I've put my "big girl panties" on so to speak [which really takes on a whole new meaning in this context] and moved forward and won't be attending any more events at that house again. But I'm still licking my wounds.
Thanks for listening. I can't say that I really feel better, but at least I got a blog post out of it.
Also, Mr. Potenial will forevermore be referred to as Mr. Douche.
-jafg
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