Belly and The Bug: rant

Showing posts with label rant. Show all posts

Part 1: Christmas recap and Part 2: The Horror

Part 1: Christmas recap

Hi Friends. We got home from our whirlwind Christmas vacation just a few short hours ago. We went to my sister Molly's house just outside of Little Rock, AR and a super swell time was had by all. For reals. It was beyond wonderful to see that side of my family and to show off Belly and the Bug. Plus I got to meet my little niece who was named after me (I can hardly believe she's 18 months old and this was the first time I'd met her in-person). We had tons of good food and drink (a constant with my family), lots of game-playing (another constant), and overall Christmas Happiness. Top that off with no drama and it was pretty damn near perfect! Except for one thing...

Part 2: The Horror

Erika and Molly and I thought it would be fun to leave the kids with the husbands and have a "sisters afternoon" - go to a movie, get pedicures, maybe do a little shopping. Molly and I both have little kids, so these particular activities are sadly lacking from our lives on any sort of consistent basis. We saw "Up in the Air" and I loved it. I laughed. I thought I might cry at one point. I truly loved it. Then we went for pedicures. I picked out a lovely shade of almost-black-purple and was all set. As they were leading me to the chair, I asked if I could also get a brow wax (this place was a salon and they clearly offered waxing services). The woman said yes and suggested she do that first. Great! I followed her into the waxing room. I told her "not too thin, please" and put my head back on the pillow. She leaned over me. "Hmmm. Do you want a lip wax, too?" Uh, okay. Sure. Clearly there was a need. And with that, she went to work. It seemed like she was taking a lot off the eyebrows but you know what? It feels like that EVERY time I get waxed. Then she did the upper lip. Then she went back to the brows to do some tweezing. She didn't put anything on the upper lip to calm it down while she did that and I could feel the region tingling in a not-good way. Finally she put some calming oil everywhere and gave me a hand mirror. What Had She Done To My Face? No really. What the friggledy-frug did she think "not too thin, please" meant?!?! Had she gone any thinner, my brows would've been completely gone and needed to be drawn on. I was stunned, horrified, at a total loss for words. We walked out to the pedicure chairs where I freaked as quietly as possible - texting Erika in the chair next to me and trying not to cry. Erika assured me that yes, they were thin but not weird-looking. She had to say that, though. It was pretty obvious that I was on the verge of losing my shit. I could not enjoy my pedicure. It was finally all over and we left. Erika informed me that she had been cut by the cuticle scissors and the nail tech had tried to hide it by putting her foot in the water. What?! Molly came out unscathed but will not be returning to that particular establishment. UGH.

That was yesterday. Today I think the eyebrows are way too thin but no, not totally bizarre - just strange on MY face. I look forward to them growing back in. Additionally, my upper lip has decided to take 24 hours to totally break out. Yep - Dude actually asked me when we got home this evening if I was having an allergic reaction to something. And when I said that it was just further trauma from the waxing yesterday, he asked incredulously, "You got your lip waxed?! I didn't know you did that!" He looked at me like I had just told him I have a giant walrus mustache that I shave every day. This just keeps getting better and better...

Today's Word of the Day: HARUMPH!

That's how I feel. A little pouty. A little bratty. A little...just...well...harumph! I got all polished up today for a meeting with a Portland Man-in-the-Know, a local celebrity guy of sorts. The whole idea is to network and forge strong connections that could lead to some consulting work. And clearly, there's the problem. WORK. I have come to realize that I just don't wanna!!!!!!!! Seriously. Dude thinks I should be moving forward with finding my next project so that I can always pick and choose instead of needing to jump at something I don't want to do if/when it becomes a necessity for me to bring in a paycheck again. And yes, I need to stay relevant. But so-help-me-God I'd much rather color pictures with the girls and eat cream cheese-and-jam sandwiches with the crusts cut off than pull out my Ann Taylor clothes and suit up to become Professional Rachael again. I have adult interaction on a regular basis. I'm not lacking in the mental stimulation department (I have Facebook, right?? Ha!). Just sitting in a conference room today reminded me of all the stress I used to have. I remember that feeling of panic creeping into my chest as I had 3 minutes between meetings to write a report, brainstorm the finer points of a new million-dollar project, respond to 36 emails (received in the last 45 minutes) and pee. No thank you. I'll pass on feeling like that again.

I suppose it won't be like that, though. I have no intention of going to work full-time. And certainly not at a place like where I was before: The-Nonprofit-That-Everyone-That-Doesn't-Work-There-Loves-And-Would-Be-In-Shock-If-They-Knew-What-It's-Really-Like (or TNTETDWTLAWBISITKWIRL for short). People literally Oooh and Aahhh when they hear I worked there. It takes a great deal of restraint to not vomit on their shoes. I loved my immediate coworkers and, in theory, the place had a great mission. I too was an admirer before I knew the inner workings; the ineptitude at the highest levels; the in-fighting; the "who moved my cheese?" mentality; the ridiculous, ridiculous personalities, politics and bureaucracy. I've been gone for well over a year and I am still incredibly bitter. I'm hiding it so well, eh?

Anyway, I get that the whole idea of finding a project now is so that I'm always doing something cool. I guess I'm just scared that I'll get swallowed whole again and not be able to focus on my family, which is my top priority. And it didn't help that the Bug had a rough start of things with Nanni today. I had been gone only a couple minutes when Dude walked through the dining room where the girls were eating lunch. Buggy was looking down at her highchair tray with one hand clutching Belly's tray, trying with everything she had to keep it together. As soon as she saw Dude, the lower lip popped out and she totally lost her shit. Dude held and rocked her for 10 minutes before all was good again. And then the next four hours were fine until I got home. Things like that are not making this work thing any easier for me to accept.

HARUMPH, I say!

Oh to be hated again

WARNING: The following post contains the ramblings of a vain woman who feels fat.

When I was a teenager, I was a little bit of a hot-n-tot. I can admit that only because, well, facts are facts. Fact one: I had a 34-24-34 figure. Fact two: I routinely lied about my age so as to "seem" older. Fact three: I always preferred less clothing to more. You get the idea. Anyway, I often heard "You're so thin! I hate you!" And I won't lie - I didn't mind. I was a size 0 or 2 but I didn't need to do anything to have that figure. I ate whatever I wanted (and in large quantities - I am from Wisconsin, afterall); I drank; I shunned exercise for the sake of exercise. (Actually, I'm starting to hate my young self, too.)

When I turned 20, my metabolism started to shift. I joined a gym but never went. I was up to a size 4 or 6 for the first time in my life and felt like that was probably still alright. I moved to LA when I was 21 and suddenly felt like one of the fat girls. I knew that I needed to lose weight or I was only going to be cast as "the friend" instead of the leading lady. I half-assed worked out, but I never altered what I ate. The year I was 22, I started waiting tables at Spago and I gained ten pounds in about an instant. That was twelve years ago and oh how I wish that even that would've kicked my ass into the gym. But sadly, no.

There have been another ten pounds that I've put on and taken off and put on and taken off and put on and taken off since then. I know that counting calories and getting regular cardio exercise is the key to what works for me but man I hate that crap.

I had just embarked on losing that ten pounds when I got pregnant, which was not ideal, but whatever. All through my pregnancy, I was told to make sure I was eating a lot and getting enough fat in my diet, etc. And my doctor even told me that I only needed to exercise if I felt like it because, being pregnant with twins, it was important that I keep my energy levels up and not stress my body. So...I didn't really exercise while I was pregnant. I went for slow strolls and sometimes did a few laps in the pool, a few prenatal yoga classes. People, I am 5'4" (on a good day) and by the time I had those little pups, I weighed about 185 pounds. THAT is a lot.

Then came the big breastfeeding myth - "If you breastfeed, the pounds will fall right off!" It's a total lie. I'm serious. There was even a recent study that shows this. And the whole time I was nursing, I was told to make sure to drink whole milk, eats lots of nuts and seeds, blah, blah. This stuff = FAT. The pounds were not falling anywhere. They were staying put.

Then the dreaded happened. When the girls were about six months old, some woman thought I was pregnant. It took everything I had to hold back the tears at that moment. Oh but how they came when I got in my car. To say my body image was low is an understatement. I felt like I was walking around wearing a fat suit. A big, stretched-out fat suit. Looking in the mirror was something I avoided and I felt like I mentally understood how one heads down the path to an eating disorder.

I stopped nursing when the girls were nine months old and immediately started counting calories. I had some quick success and this spurred me on. But then we were moving and it was the holidays, etc., and it was just too dang hard. So I decided not to beat myself up over it and get back on track in January. Which I did. And the Lose It! app on my iPhone totally makes it even easier.

I'm currently back down to my pre-pregnancy weight (meaning that I still want to lose another 10 pounds or so) but my body is SO different. I'd say that overall, everything is saggier - especially the midsection - except my biceps are the biggest they've ever been (thank you, Belly and The Bug). I'm going to the gym a couple times a week and working on putting my abs back in place with a heinous class called "Ab Blast." It all sucks, but I've resigned myself to the fact that I'm going to be a terrible example for my girls if I'm so, so, so unhappy with myself. I have to get rid of the weight and be done with it once and for all. And it DOES feel good to not be trapped in a fat suit anymore. Progress is being made. I'm not there yet, but progress is being made.

Meanwhile, Valerie Bertinelli is on the cover of People magazine in an effing bikini. What is that? Good for her! But I don't find it particularly motivating. Unfortunately, without the assistance of a little cosmetic surgery, that will never be me again. I think I hate her.

About Face

Everyone seems to be writing blogs about Facebook these days - and I guess that's because we're all on it. And when I say all, I mean EVERYONE. My "friends" include a vast array of people from high school, my husband, my many siblings, my dad and friends from Milwaukee, Los Angeles, DC, Portland and everywhere in between. I was late in joining FB because I already had a MySpace account and it took so much work...I was reluctant to commit to yet another social networking site. But then my oldest (and often wisest) friend, Jillet, commanded me to join and I think I've been back on MySpace three times since. I thought - how simple and fun! And the crazy number of high school people adding me as a friend at all times of the day and night was astounding. It was like a virtual high school reunion except surprisingly enjoyable (even while sober).

But something has changed. I've realized that my "friends" list now includes my parents' friends, the minister who married us (although he is tres cool), friends of friends with whom I am only the merest of acquaintances, my Mormon aunt who says in her "25 random things" note that swearing "jars her soul," etc. You know - people that I don't necessarily need to have reading my latest status about my mini-crush on Eric Ripert (he's so hot in a perfectly polished and amazing chef kind of way) or seeing the middle school-era pictures of me posted by others or following my conversations about good break-up-and-make-up songs. It's really just TMI.

The way I see it, I have two choices: 1) I can censor myself more or 2) I can deny their friend requests. Either way, I don't like it. I'm very congnizant of the fact that FB is a public forum so it's not like I'm putting all my biznass up there for people to see, but I'd like to be able to say "effing" or "boobs" without worrying that somehow I'm offending people. And isn't it just flat-out rude to deny the friend request of someone I know (or kinda know)?

My panties are all in a bunch about this because some woman who was friends with my mom when I was a little kid (and is still close with one of my dad's friends) just sent me a friend request. I am 34 years old and I have not seen or spoken to this woman since I was probably 7 or 8. Am I the only one who thinks this is weird? I don't want to accept her as my friend on FB, but my older sister E says I have to out of politeness. Dude says I don't have to do anything I don't want to do. What to do?

For now I'm ignoring her friend request. I mean, I could accept her and it would probably be no big deal, but it really feels like a line has been crossed. I want to frolic online without the pressure of censure! I want FB to be fuuuuunnnn! Sigh. I'm sure this is no big deal and I'm wasting a ton of energy by fixating on it.

Belly and The Bug

Part 1: Christmas recap and Part 2: The Horror

Today's Word of the Day: HARUMPH!

Oh to be hated again

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