The ugly cry

Why, good morning. It's only 9:20am or so, and I already know that the gods hate me. How? The comedy of errors that was my morning, that's how.

So, I've not been sleeping well, for probably a lot of reasons. Normally it's not a huge problem, but I've also been feeling a little under the weather. And still can't sleep. So, yesterday when I hit that afternoon time when I really wanted to nap, I did not. In order to sleep well that night.

Fast forward. It's 1am. I've finished a hot toddy. I've done a lot of reading. I should be tired. I'm WIDE AWAKE. I finally drift off to sleep around 2:30am.

And this morning the alarm didn't go off.

It didn't exactly put us too far behind -- John has a good internal clock. But, having not slept well, I was counting on hearing the alarm and him getting up to take the first shower in order to wake up slowly.

Didn't happen.

I burned myself on my flat iron.

And then ... the kicker. We were walking down our driveway, which was damp from the rain. I was being careful, and then BAM! Down I went. Ankle twisted. Scrapes. A little blood. And the ugly cry. Oh, the ugly cry. In the middle of the damn driveway, facing one of the busiest streets in the area.

Boyfriend just kind of let me bawl like a little kid, then picked me up and took me in and cleaned me up. And then we drove to school, b/c the gods were clearly anti-bus. And I had a noticeable limp, making the bus standing painful.

All because some woman in our building dropped and left her barrette on our driveway.

... is it the weekend yet?

Why, hello. Yes, I *DO* blog, thank you!

So, hello. Evidently one post per week is my new style.

I'd like to say that first: I am no longer the emotional basket case I was a week ago. I have mellowed (mostly). At the time, I had just finished a phone convo with Papa Five in which he discussed the fact that his company is cutting 5,000 jobs over the next two years. He thinks he's safe, but there's no real way to know at this point. It was ... well, he wasn't upset, but by the time I hung up, the camel's back had broken, so to speak.

So, yes.

In other news: Law school sucks. Legal journal associate editorship sucks. My sources are in A DIFFERENT LANGUAGE. I have to figure out how to cite these (literally) foreign arbitration awards, court cases, and code provisions. It's less than fun.

Oh, and my note topic is due on Thursday. I think I'm writing about bankruptcy? I don't know? Someone help me. I need an adult.

But in positive news: I got a job. A real, paying-me-to-do-legal-work job. It's with a firm that does personal injury. No, I won't tell you the name. Anyway, I feel even more a kinship to Namby Pamby than I once did.

In "eh" news ... the scale hasn't moved. But it's not the scale's fault. I've been baaaaaad lately. I've let the gym slide and eaten more calories than I should of things that shouldn't even go in my mouth to begin with.

But, I think I'm on the upswing. I'm tired of empty calories and feeling like crap after I eat. And that's really the big thing, isn't it? We change our behavior when we notice that it's causing us more pain than it's giving us? At least in theory?

So, there's your schizophrenic update. I'll try to get at least one more at ya this week. There are things going on, as always. Funny things, even. But at the moment, I'm just pretty busy. And a little under the weather. So, my hot toddy and I? We're going to bed.

Why I haven't been blogging

It's been a hard few weeks.

I went back on the pill. My hormones are all screwed up, and consequently my emotions are as well.

I'm hungry all the time, and I'm retaining water. The scale is moving the wrong direction.

And I can't sleep at night.




Life needs to cut me a fucking break.

The one about love

The things we do for love.

Since I haven't been to bed, it's still Wednesday. And today, being Wednesday, is Boyfriend's birthday.

And I spent most of it with a splitting headache. I was less than pleasant for a lot of it, I'm sure. Part of it is just that I get headaches and migraines. Part of it is that I haven't slept well recently.

So what is Boyfriend doing right now? He's sleeping in the spare room downstairs, b/c he snores, and he wants me to sleep well.

I may joke a lot IRL about him, but let me tell you: the man is a saint. He puts up with me in all my moods (and I have them. In. Spades.). He finds all my neuroses cute and funny and endearing. He is patient to a fault with me. He cooks. He cleans. He looks damn good.

And he's supported me in everything I've done this past year. He's been my best friend and the best part of an otherwise grueling year.

And today he's 33.

Tomorrow we're driving back to West Virginia to visit his dad and some law firms. And while it may not be where I thought I'd ever want to be even a year ago, he's worth the move.

I figure it's the least I can do for him, when he pretty much makes my day just by waking up.

Today sucked

The title says it all.

Today sucked. School, friends, workout, family.

It sucked.

I had ice cream.

I can't sleep.

I wish I could talk about it more. But I can't.

Suffice it to say that this week is kicking my ass something fierce.

More existential than normal. I blame my literature major in college.

Sometimes I am so surprised and fascinated at how delicate we are, when you think about what we endure on a daily basis. Our bodies take the beating we give them at the gym. They process the healthy and unhealthy food we put into them. Our minds are capable of synthesizing incredible amounts of information. We can compartmentalize our lives into home, work, friends.

And yet life is so fragile, both physically and emotionally.

I see it every day, walking down the streets of my city, on the bus, in my car. We feed ourselves horrible food, and as a city, we are fat. I've written about this before, but for those who may be lurking or new (say hello! I love comments!), I don't hate or pity these people. But I am sad for them, because I know what it's like to feel trapped. I am scared for them, for their shortened life spans. They make me hyper aware of my extra 50lbs. They make me aware of how large my father is, and how much I love him, and want him to be around as long as possible. They make me aware that Boyfriend is nine years older than I am, and that I want HIM around as long as possible, in spite of the fact that we are both young, and embarking on this healthy lifestyle together.

Sometimes I marvel that our bodies can take so much abuse. Other times, I practically weep for us as a nation. What are we doing to our bodies? This is why I run. Why, in spite of having a horrible day, I did not get ice cream, but instead had a few pieces of dark chocolate. Why I attempt to eat sensibly and move more. Why I am determined to drop the weight. Life is short, it is fragile.

But perhaps the hardest part of weight loss for we emotional eaters, and indeed the hardest part of examining our relationship with food, is thinking about our mental well-being, and what our minds are capable of handling.

I suppose it's normal to have existential crises in your mid-20s. But it seems to me that so many of us of all ages are walking around on auto-pilot. We stuff food in our faces that we barely taste. We want bigger, better, faster, more, when it comes to everything, but we don't know why. We're never satisfied. It takes a toll on our bodies, our friendships, our relationships. We want so deeply to be loved, yet we can't make relationships work. I think that it's because, for whatever reason, we just really don't know ourselves, because we think it's easier to just not think about it. But what does this cost us?

We're frustrated. I'm frustrated. It plays out in hurtful and rude comments. It plays out in self-abuse with food. With alcohol. With any number of substances or activities.

We all do it to varying degrees. But I was faced with my demon tonight when, after a friend made a thoughtless comment that shook my confidence, I wanted to quit. I wanted chocolate, I wanted to go to sleep. I shut down.

But instead of the ice cream I wanted, I had healthier dark chocolate, and a moderate amount. I did some problems for a class. And I remembered that even when the world seems like it's out to get me, I come home to someone who loves me, and wants only the best for me.

And that's worth more than the rest.

No cramps!

So, today was day 3 of running.

First, some background. I suck at running. I really really do. I've never been able to breathe properly so that I don't get cramps. Until today!

I ran two miles, and didn't cramp once. Well, I ran and walked two miles. But I ran! Two miles! Without cramping or dying!

I'm hoping to get my 13 minute walk/run mile time down to around 11 or 10:30 by Christmas. But first we start with being able to run a solid 20 or 30 minutes at the 4.7mi/hr pace.

And now, late dinner of soup and half a sandwich. And reading. Oh. Reading.

My first run in ... well, a long time

I'm back!

This evening Boyfriend and I returned from what feels like our 5,000th trip in the past month. This time we were in Philly for about 18 hours, so I could interview with some firms out in Delaware, The Land Where Everything is Headquartered. As I'm interested in corporate law, it was kind of like interviewing for my dream job. Three times. At three different firms. Cross your fingers for me, please!

So. As mentioned before, I've been a bad, bad girl. And now I have Fiona Apple singing in my head. But with the traveling and the school starting, I fell off the wagon for a while. Bu now I am back on. Oh, yes. And my running shoes from Nike came Wednesday. I meant to get up before my interviews this morning and run with them before heading out, but ... well, I am not a morning person, Readers. And I am especially not a morning person the morning after driving 5 hours to Philadelphia and sleeping in a hotel bed. Even the excitement of the Nike+ and new shoes couldn't get me out of bed in time.

So instead, I ran this evening when we got back to Pittsburgh. I was sleepy, but dammit, I wanted to see how this thing works. And, if you look to your left under the My Stats section, you'll see a link to my Nike.com page that tracks all my runs through the Nike+ software. This particular run was not my best, but it happened at the end of a long day, and frankly, I'm just proud that after 11 hours on the road in the past 36 hours, I got myself to the gym for any workout at all.

So, that's the state of things here. Boyfriend and I are going to work out more and eat less crap. We're excited about trying new recipes, and perhaps even taking pictures of the finished product for you readers. Either way, I'm actually going to start sharing how to make some of the more fun things that we eat.

I hope to catch up on the blogroll this weekend -- I'm very sorry that I've neglected you all. You know how life gets sometimes.

Coming soon

Coming soon, an entry discussing:

*how I hate Fed Ex and their not delivering my shoes today
*how fat and out of shape I am, and how I should have been going to the gym for the last month, but I have not.
*the virtues of eating more fiber, less fat, and more veggies and whole grains. I've been truly bad for the last month. I repent.
*shameless pleas for advice on how to learn to run effectively. I am determined. I have Nike+! I will track my progress!
*recipes
*the possibility of taking pictures of said recipes once Boyfriend and I (and by that I mean Boyfriend, who does the lion's share of the cooking in our house) make them.

And perhaps more!

But for now, I have a tired boy waiting for me to come to bed.

Size 12 dress

Dear Blogosphere friends:

Today was a monumental day.

Despite having lost not a damn pound, I fit into a size 12 dress today at Nordstrom. I was trying them on as a lark with a friend who's in town from D.C. and needed a formal dress for a job with the D.C. Opera.

So, while she was trying on gowns, I picked up cocktail dresses. And one in particular spoke to me. Think Marilyn Monroe, but in black. But they only had it in a 12, not a 14 like I normally wear. But, in an effort to get over my phobia of clothing, I picked it up.

AND IT FIT.

Now, this is likely because the dress had free hips. I have issues with my hips. They're German and wide and built for birthing many babies that will grow up to drink beer and work the land and eat cheese and sausages.

Anyway, it fit. And the size 14 dresses fit. All of them. And I bought one that was on sale.

But I resisted the expensive size 12, because A) it was too fancy for everyday wear and B) it was EXPENSIVE. And while it looked good, the only reason I wanted it was because it said "12" on the tag.

Now I just need to lose another 10lbs, so I'm ACTUALLY a size 12.

Being a girl sucks

So, as many of you know, I've been poked and prodded a lot recently. In the process, we discovered that I've got a (benign) cyst on my ovary. Just hangin' out. My doctor wasn't concerned as it wasn't bothering me.

Until Tuesday. When the cyst burst.

See, uh, it hurt.

It hurt A LOT.

Like, I have a high pain tolerance. For instance: I broke my ankle in high school gym class playing basketball. I didn't cry. In fact, I finished class, and just went to the nurse at the end. The swelling alerted them to a problem, and I got X-rays. And a nifty cast.

This was 100x worse than that.

My abdomen was on fire. I couldn't move out of the fetal position. I threw up. Twice. Not because I felt nauseated, but because I just couldn't handle the pain. I shook. I twisted. I writhed. I shook.

John wanted to take me to the ER, but I don't have health insurance (yet -- I am working on it). So I took a ton of OTC painkillers, and somehow was able to find a position that as OK enough to let me sleep, half-afraid it might have been my appendix, even though I didn't have a fever.

Luckily, it was not. I woke up feeling MUCH better, though still in pain. I went to class, and took a long afternoon nap.

By Friday I was feeling 100% again. But let me tell you -- ovarian cyst bursts? Terrifying and painful stuff.

/Whine.

Why Boyfriend Rocks

Well, if I listed all the reasons, we'd be here forever.

Seriously. He rocks.

But most recently, Boyfriend rocks because, after his iPod quit working and his running shoes wore out, he bought new ones. And then, he discovered Nike+.

And now, I'm buying new running shoes. And Boyfriend is purchasing me an iPod nano for my birthday.

It's possibly one of the most thoughtful gifts I've gotten in a long while. I love gadgets, and I love losing weight. In one fell swoop, Boyfriend has chosen a gift that will combine these two loves. And b/c my current iPod works fine, it's not something I'd ever buy for myself. Even though I need new running shoes.

So now I have a shiny new pair of Nike shoes (my first ever! EVER! And on sale!) coming to me via Fed Ex next week. This weekend we'll go to the Apple store, and I'll have an iPod nano.

Then next week, we can track our progress. All because my man rocks, and is supportive of my weight loss goals.

P.S. Unless anyone thinks that I am not equally nice to him, I bought him a grill for his birthday, which is in two weeks. It's his first grill. and from what I can tell, it's reaffirmed his masculinity in ways I had never imagined. Plus, we've eaten lots of yummy grilled foods this week.