My son and I went through the drive-thru at Chick-fil-A about a month ago and the guy in the window called me a Sir. Not once. Not twice. But three times. He never caught on that I was a woman. I realize I'm overweight and therefore, my breasts probably aren't the first thing people notice, but holy shit. At the time, I just shrugged it off after a few hours of dwelling on it and then completely put it out of my mind.
Until tonight.
My son is sleeping over at a friend's house and so I decided to treat myself to a Target shopping trip without being accompanied by a string of pleas. Chick-fil-A happens to sit at the corner of the Target shopping center and it was late and I didn't have anything quick and good to eat at home, so I decided to stop there.
As soon as I rolled up to the window, one of the workers, who happened to be male, took my debit card, swiped it and then handed it back to me as he said, "Do you need a receipt, Sir?" Holy fucking shit.
I was so embarrassed by his obvious faux pas (okay, obvious only to me) that I couldn’t say anything because I didn’t want him to hear my voice and realize the mistake he’d made. So, I just nodded and smiled throughout the exchange.
So, now I'm wondering if I really do look either asexual or male. Maybe I should change my name to Pat.
Hello World, It's me again!
Boy, this whole blogging thing didn't work out the way I wanted it too. I've had many things going on in my life that I really wanted to chronicle here but I just never made this important enough to update it.
But! I'm here now! And ready to party 2006 into existence. Not really.
The truth is that some parts of my life are great and some parts of my life aren't. I think that's probably how it is with everyone. We all have things we wish were a little different. We all think that life would be better or easier if only such and such happened.
The good parts are that I'm still involved with the man named Seth. Honestly, I don't know why I picked the name Seth for him because it just doesn't fit. You know how names seem to just magically pick people? Well, his name is Christopher and if that name doesn't fit him properly, nothing else will. He spent Christmas here with me and my son. For the first Christmas Eve in 9 years, I had a real living, breathing man in my bed. Merry Christmas, indeed!
We went to my parents' house and ate like the possessed. You know what I mean? You know how possessed people look all crazy with their glossed over eyes and their big slimey fangs and greedy hands...kind of like something out of Lord of the Rings. That's how we acted for two straight days. We gorged on everything from Beef Burgandy with rice to homemade rolls, to the most gloriously cheesy homemade macaroni and cheese you have ever laid your tongue on to homemade coconut cake (3 layers!) to peanut butter balls and Martha Stewart's chiffon cupcakes with creamy chocolate icing...it was just all too much.
We ate so much, in fact, that my son actually threw up in the back of Christopher's car on the way home from my parents. "Merry Christmas, Mom...Here's your gift...bleeccchhh" I don't think that I slept at all that night, so worried that my son would get sick again. You see, Christopher's snore is like that of the nightly foghorn from the ship carrying out the dead to the underworld. So, I have to wear earplugs in order to get any sleep. Therefore, I was worried that I wouldn't hear my son and he'd be crying for me and puking all over his flannel snowmen sheets and I would be completely oblivious to it. My point is, I realized that my son is never too old for me to stop worrying about him as if he is still 3 years old.
He's going to be 11 years old in three months. I can't believe that in August of 2006, he will be in JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL. I am only 31 years old. How did I end up with a kid in JUNIOR HIGH? I feel like I just left JUNIOR HIGH. It frightens me, truly. I can't think about it for very long or I get a panic attack. Girls are going to want to start calling him and he's going to start looking at his penis in a whole new light and I just don't think I'm ready for this next stage at all. God help me.
But you know, why do they send the kids to Junior High so quickly now? When I was in school, we didn't go to Junior High (or Middle School for some of you) until 8th grade! We were in Elementary through 7th. Even after I moved to Tennessee, we still were in Elementary through 6th. They've moved it back even further now and I really don't like that. It just seems that children are more innocent and easily controlled in Elementary school. They get this big ego boost on them and think that they are going off to the big, bad Junior High and they change. Kids become evil and it takes them a good three or four years to figure out they don't have to be evil. Maybe I'm just projecting my own horrible experience of Junior High on to him. Maybe it will be okay. There's one thing for certain, I have no other way around it so we'll have to get through it somehow.
Anyway, as I was saying before I went off on a tangent, there have been good things. Obviously I'm feeling fortunate for my son and Chris and my family. I'm also very fortunate that I've got a job now that allows me to work from home! So, I drop my son off at school and then go work and I'm able to pick him up from school each afternoon. I can't tell you how wonderful it has been to be able to be at home with him in the afternoons. I love that I'm giving him that now because I wasn't able to do that for years. So, yes, some very good things.
But there have been a few not so good things. My weight has sky rocketed to a size that only Nell Harper would understand. It's really gotten out of control. Something stupid has clicked in my mind that's given me the impression that I can eat whatever the hell I want to eat and god damn the person that tries to stand in my way. Well, you saw that list of foods earlier that we ate on Christmas. So just take that list and add a few more items on to it. It's been ridiculously stupid of me. I'm really taking a major risk with my life by just carelessly eating whatever I wanted. I've been consumed with consumption. I've been valiantly standing in the center of the National Obesity Crisis and raising my fist in a mighty salute to officially fuck off. And over the last month or so, I've gone on an all out gluttony fest by cooking treats and cookies and candies every day for 15 days straight leading up to Christmas. It's been fun and I've enjoyed it quite a bit but you know, I'm tired of hurting myself for the sake of stubbornness. I've been so insistant upon not caring about my weight and what people thought of me because I wanted to just be happy and free like my skinny counterparts who don't have to worry about consuming a 2 Cheeseburger Value Meal, Super-Sized with a Coca-Cola. I wanted to just know how it felt to be normal for once. And now I know. It feels fucking miserable and anyone who eats like I've been eating for the last year or so should probably consider a colonic.
So, I'm doing something about all of that this year. I haven't really decided exactly what I'm going to say or do, but this blog is going to be getting a makeover and some new toys and I'm going to just kind of blow this mother out. It won't be a weight-loss blog, but there will definitely be updates in a different kind of way. But here's the thing I've decided: I'm not telling anyone in my actual life that I'm changing my way of eating. I'm not going to discuss my choices with them or even let them know that I'm trying to lose weight. The reason for this is that I'm tired of feeling judged and policed by well meaning friends and family members. If I tell you that I am on a diet, and we go out for dinner and you see me order a cheeseburger and fries, I do not need nor want your eyes even slightly glancing my way as if to say, "Is that on your diet?". If I tell you that I'm on a diet, I don't want to have to justify my choice of plan. If I tell you that I'm watching what I eat, I don't want you to ask me every time you see me how much weight I've lost. Basically, I just want to do this and be left alone about it with no fear of slipping because of who is watching my weight also.
I realized that I would need to share it with someone though. I have too much going on in my mind to not let it out every now and then. So, I'm going to share it with my friends in the box. I don't think anyone's actually reading this anymore. If you are, would you say hi to me? But, It's okay that no one is reading it. I think if I keep updating, maybe people will come around more. It's worth a try.
Anyway, that's about it for me. It's New Years Eve. Chris is at his home in Atlanta and I'm in mine in Chattanooga. The sun is setting and soon it will be the dawn of another year. What will this year bring to you? What hopes do you have for yourself? Does the new year really feel like a re-birth, a chance to start anew, or do you refuse to give in to the whole new resolution thing? (By the way, I bought all of my research books on my new eating plan last week so that I wouldn't be a complete cliche.)
I wish you whatever it is you want most for yourself.
Joy
When I originally decided to sign up for a blog at Chattablogs, I didn't really take into account the whole "local" factor. I've written before in different online journals and I even met a person or two in town because of it. However, this is kind of different. I'm paranoid.
I love Chattablogs. Let's just get that out of the way so that my whole readership of two understands that this isn't going to be a bashing post.
But see, Chattablogs has a portal where everyone who updates their blogs is shown until they are eventually pushed off the main page due to other people updating. I'm freaked out.
One, I've looked at the blogs that are on that portal and while they are discussing politics ... local or otherwise ... I am posting pictures of my strawberry shortcake. While they compose entries about local events, news stories, and other interesting tidbits, I am contemplating telling you about how I mass e-mailed a photo of my ex-boyfriend's penis to several dozen of his dearest friends. (What? Any man that takes a picture of his freshly ejaculated penis with his CELL PHONE and then "accidentally" sends it to me instead of the intended totally deserves it.)
So, that is problem numero uno. I feel like a Chattablogs fraud. Look, I just live here. I don't really keep up with the local goings on other than to say there is a very cute waiter at the Chestnut Roast coffee shop downtown. It's not that I'm uneducated, I just don't really care. I'm kind of self-involved that way.
Problem two is that it mildly freaks me out that anyone reading me from that portal, lives somewhere in this city. If I had planned to talk about things that everyone knows about, I wouldn't be quite as worried. I mean, so what if you know I voted for Ann Coulter twice for mayor and I'm still harboring a grudge that she lost - the same grudge that burns on today that Gore lost.
But, that's not what I came here to talk about. I came here to talk about me. And, I think I'll do just that. If you figure out who I am or realize you work three cubicles down from me, so be it. Just don't come up to me tomorrow and ask to see the picture. My life can be agonizingly boring at times and at others, it can be rather controversial and risque. I'm a wild child. You have been forewarned.
Self-Made Man 