A Great Big Ball of Suck

this is what my life appears to be at the moment. b.b. (c's new nickname - i'll explain later) and i were discussing this today. i'm sick of it. i'm tired of hating life and being terminally depressed. it's exhausting, and it certainly can't be any fun for the people who have to be around me. i assumed that with rob visiting me for spring break, i'd be sufficiently excited and distracted, but not so. don't get me wrong - i love rob and i was very very glad to spend time with him. but i still had to literally force myself to do stuff. i still didn't want to do anything but hide in my bed and sleep. i spent much of friday apologizing for sucking at life (it was a particularly bad day for me), and i'm sure rob was tired of my continual sorry's, but i felt guilty. we should have been talking and laughing and being silly the whole time, and i just couldn't find it in me to do that. it's just ridiculous. i just wanted to spend time with one of my best friends and hang out and have fun, but it was torturous forcing myself to do so.

you know, people really shouldn't be able to screw up each other this way. and that goes all around, i guess. if girls in jon's past hadn't screwed with his head, maybe he would have been able to trust me and what we had, thereby avoiding effing me up royally. and, sadly, i'm really starting to believe that this is something that i'll just have to learn to live with. it's not like i'm ever going to be completely over him or anything - as i've said before, it can only be downhill after "love of your life" so what's the point? - so maybe this is a condition, like the fibro or panic disorder, that i'll just have to cope with. the pain may never go away, but hopefully my tolerance will go up - just like it has with my physical pain - and it'll be easier to live with. hopefully. i don't know. i don't know anything anymore. my world has been completely shattered, and i never knew it was possible for a single person to do that to me. bleagh. i'll stop kvetching now, i guess. i'm done, is all. just done.

To Put it in Perspective...

germany says, "heißen sie willkommen zu 1883!"

the UK says, "welcome to 1911!"

france says, "accueillir à 1930!"

canada says, "bienvenue and welcome to 1961!"

australia says, "welcome to 1975!"

look, i get that americans kind of suck when it comes to "political traditions" and change. and i understand that this is a huge change that will take a while to implement. but look around, people. we need this change. unemployment is at a ridiculous level; and more importantly, a lot of people who have jobs (hi, america, my name is karen) only have part-time status - usually at more than one place - or work for a company that can't afford or doesn't offer health care for their employees. and seriously, this is not some crazy new radical idea. it's been in place in other countries - SUCCESSFULLY - for years. decades. even centuries, in some cases. bottom line is it works. and most importantly: PLEASE inform yourself with real facts, figures, and news about this bill. do not watch fox news and call this truth. do the research, find out the actual truth, and then if you still disagree, fine. but do so intelligently, instead of using the latest catch-phrase about what's "really going on" or how evil the supporters of this are.

ok, i'm down, and putting the soapbox away now...

Better Living Through Chemistry (Whether I Like It Or Not)

i've mentioned before how much i hate being dependent on meds, so i won't go into to that again. apparently the big ball of suck that is my current state of life is taking its toll on my body. i've started having chest pains, trouble breathing, and cluster headaches. i live with panic disorder; it runs in my family. and i understand that these things are textbook symptoms of anxiety and panic attacks, but it's never manifested this way in me before. i was also getting all ragey and angry, and that's not something i've ever done, no matter what level of anxiety or depression i've been at. so i went to the doctor, just to make sure there wasn't anything seriously wrong. after checking me out thoroughly and talking to me, she agreed that it was probably just anxiety in super-strength form. so she prescribed me some xanax to "take off the edge". i used to always have an emergency stash around in case i needed it - i think i went through 30 pills in about a year. because i hate drug reliance, i used it only when i couldn't function. but i've been out of the stash for a long long time (because thankfully i haven't needed to refill). so i had to start taking 2 to 4 half-pills a day just to keep functioning, which is more than i've ever taken before. i only had to take one half-pill yesterday, but then it was a lazy, gorgeous saturday that included a massage and a cupcake, so i expect that rage and pain will return when i have to deal with kids and parents and my assistant. so we'll see. surely the suck has to stop soon, or at least lessen...

I Can't Even BEGIN To Interpret This...

there were a lot of bizarre situations in my dreams last night, including (but not limited to) me playing tennis - something i haven't done since high school, and then not competitively or even seriously - and winning large amounts loose jewels (mostly emeralds, sapphires, and rubies) for said tennis playing, dancing on the beach and tossing some of the aforementioned stones into the water, and dressing up as a vegas showgirl for a photo shoot. all this pales in comparison to the oddest and most inexplicable part of the dream. normally, it's pretty easy for me to figure out what's going on in my dreams; i can connect them to events or emotions in my life, or things i've recently seen or heard. but this... i got nothing. SO random. and so oddly specific. here it is:

i was wandering through the woods taking photos, and then decided to head back to my car. when i was almost there, a policeman/security officer type person in a dark uniform rode up on the back of a clydesdale stallion (although i referred to it as a lippizaner), holding a golden retriever puppy. (only he wasn't really puppy, he was just young, about 2 years old. see? oddly specific.) the retriever started singing the first line to queen's "somebody to love" and the horse joined in on the word "love." then the horse repeated the line. i took a picture of them as they trotted past, and was very impressed with the animals' singing voices, though disappointed that they didn't know more of the song.

yep. and i didn't even eat anything before bedtime, so i have no idea where any of that came from. anyone got any ideas? 'cause i've got nothing...

Pointless Self-Indulgent Pity

i don't, as a rule, enjoy feeling sorry for myself. most of the time i just put on my big girl panties and deal with life, because really - what else is there to do? but i'm wallowing a little right now, and it's very irritating. so what i'm going to do is this: i'm going to get it all out in one (albeit long) sentence, and then i will go back to trying to pick up the pieces of my life. okay, here we go...

i hate pretty much everything about my life at this moment; i'm alone, snowed in to my apartment, in virginia, my flight was cancelled so i'm missing juliana's wedding (in t-minus 31 minutes), i'm very sick, and my heart is aching for a man who has not spoken to me in over three months and who i quite inexplicably still want to spend my life with. did i mention my head is exploding?

okay, stupid self-involved moment over. i hope. (and yes, technically that was two sentences. whatever. my blog, my rules, right?)

**update: add to that the fact the power went out for many hours, making it very cold... oi.

Well, Apparently The Answer Is "You Don't" When It Involves Me...

went and saw cowboy mouth this weekend with kristin and her sister... and i promise to detail the as-per-usual kick-ass-iness of the show at a later date, but i just needed to share some of these lyrics as they keep going 'round my head.

how do you tell someone (you don't love them)

Michael says don't shout at me like I was born a fool
You speak of love and scream of love now dare to treat me cruel
Nothings fair in love and war, so please lets make some rules,
There's a little boy who's cryin' over here

Did you ever know me, I swear that I have tried
did you ever need me, I feel like I just died
Did you ever want me, I swear that I have tried
How do you tell someone you don't love them
How do you tell someone you don't care anymore
How do you tell someone you don't love them anymore

Tina says I wish that I had never seen you smile
your name is written on my soul in alphabetic file
all I've got's my dignity, so I will leave in style
there's a million of us crying over here

everytime I talk to you there's no one listening
everytime I reach for you there's no one there
everywhere I look for you there's no one to be found

if you'd like to listen to the song (it's a great song) click here.

Rough Day

i'm having a bad day emotionally. i mean, upping my medication has helped, but that doesn't actually solve anything, nor does it change the fact that i am grieving. and i haven't cried in like 4 days, so i suppose i was about due. it didn't help that the sermon in church this morning was all about marriage and parenthood - two things i thought were in my immediate future, but clearly aren't now. and it's just been a down day since. my mom bought me a stuffed talking dugg from the movie up (hi there! i have just met you and already i love you. ooh! a ball! a ball!) so that helped a little. i also bought severely awesome shoes - that are completely ridiculous - to wear to juliana's wedding in two weeks. i'm so happy for her, and i want to be there to support her, but i assume i'm going to have a sad, weepy moment or two. enter the shoes. they are so ridiculous that all i'll have to do is look down at my feet and smile. (we'll see if that works.) bleagh. i hate being icky. maybe i'll put my shoes on and walk around the apartment a little...

i mean, really... hot pink, stiletto heel, rhinestone buckles, froufy organza pieces that fluff when i walk - for $32. behold the epic awesomeness...

Refocusing

this year has been one of extreme highs and equally extreme lows, amid general suckiness. the high points being finally (after almost 6 years of bad timing and false starts) getting to start a romance with the love of my life, becoming engaged, and starting to plan a life together. the low bits being pretty much every moment after he began to suddenly freak out about the whole thing and then stopped talking to me altogether. i won't go into it (you can go and read past blog entries if you really want to hear about the soul-crushing heartache) but suffice it to say that this has pretty much destroyed me. since the pain is not magically going to go away (and probably not ever - i mean it's gotta be all downhill after "love of your life," right?) i've decided not to even try. instead, i'm refocusing - shifting to outside of me. i'm stuck inside my head - and trust me, it sucks in here right now - and i need out. so i'm going to focus on my passions (theatre, teaching, and travel) and helping others.

clearly i need out of here, so the first step is moving. i figure i'll probably end up in central florida since i have some seriously awesome friends there, and i know the area. plus, that puts me in a position to help mikki with CN4C and lets me volunteer at the give kids the world village. i really wish there was some way i could convince the powers-that-be at GKTW to create a full-time photography position (with benefits, preferably) for me. however, since that's probably not going to happen, the first order of business is finding a job. that's where you come in. anybody have any leads on a job, at least temporarily? because of the fibro, i can't stand for long periods of time or lift, well, anything really, so keep that in mind. i'm working on getting my certification back so that i can at least sub while looking for other teaching jobs. so... help? any suggestions at all would be greatly appreciated. i need out of here, and as soon as possible, so that i can start focusing on yakking up sunshine and rainbows and making the world a better place and crap, and stop focusing on my own pain. thanks!

Worst. Attack. Ever.

on monday, the day i before i left the relative comfort of south florida to return to the frozen tundra of the north, i went to work with john. it's more entertaining than sitting by myself in his apartment all day, and i can think of worse things to do than be surrounded by books all day. there were errands to be run first, one of which was stopping at starbucks. this was the 28th - voodoo day - so we had to do something indulgent like getting obscenely over-priced (and in this case slightly burnt) coffee. i ordered a venti iced soy decaf caramel macchiato (man that sounds pretentious) and was enjoying it till about 4 hours later, when it suddenly became clear that though i ordered decaf, and i heard the cashier tell the guy making my drink that it was decaf, it was most decidedly NOT decaf.

i cannot have caffeine. this is not me being picky, or wanting to go to bed early; i really can't have much caffeine at all. when i have a really bad headache and need a little caffeine to help kick it, i can't have more than one-third of a 16 oz. can of coke. even that will make it hard to sleep that night, but more than that will trigger my anxiety. and when you live with panic disorder (thanks, mom's side of the family, for that) you do whatever you can to avoid that. if you've never had a panic attack - and thank the stars if you haven't - then it's almost impossible to describe what one's like. you really have no control over it - your body is betraying you, and nothing you try (like slow, deep breaths, or "keeping calm," or anything else) will help. suffice it to say that when you've been relatively caffeine-free for about 10 years, three double shots of espresso is NOT a good thing.

i started feeling anxious and jittery. i drank copious amounts of water. i walked down to the end of the plaza and got a smoothie, because water and fruit both help to cleanse the system, and the caffeine needed to get out. this did not help. i gathered up my stuff and went outside to start walking. i got about half-way around the complex before i started crying. lovely. if you've never cried for no reason before, i don't recommend it. just like the hyperventilating and the racing heart beat, it's something you can't control. i start walking around the back of the building and the uncontrollable sobbing starts. awesome. the thing about anxiety attacks is that they trigger emotional responses. since pretty much all of my emotions in the last couple of months have been negative (hurt, loss, heart-break, etc.), i spent 2 hours sitting in the same spot, half-way up the stairs at the back of the movie theatre sobbing and rocking like a crazy homeless person. just how i wanted to spend the evening. eventually john closed the store and came around to collect me so we could head home. all told, the attack was almost 5 hours long, which is just insane. i've never had one that bad before, ever; not even during my onset. just ridiculous. so thank you, stupid starbucks barista, for not paying attention and thoroughly ruining my day. (and the next two, because it takes a while for the "anxiety hangover" to wear off...)

Is It Weird That I Feel Bad?

caught (what is presumably) mouse #3 and set him outside. i clearly can't leave them in my house to run amok when i'm away (amok, amok, amok!), but i feel awful for exiling them to the frozen tundra that is the outside world. i worry that they won't find a decent place for shelter or enough food - what the hell is wrong with me? they're field mice - they know how to survive outside, right? but what if they're little, and were born inside... will their instincts still kick in so they can find food and shelter? or will they freeze their little tails off? i'll feel terrible if i went through all the trouble of trapping them and setting them free just to give them a death sentence outside. i think i need help... or a higher dosage of zoloft...

If I Could Just Teach Him How To Ride a Motorcycle...

for the last few weeks, i've been living with a mouse. i thought it was just one, now i KNOW it's at least two, and it may have been three, though one is back outside freezing his butt off. i have no desire to kill the poor things (because, really, who can blame them for wanting a nice warm place to stay?) but they're too damn clever for their own good. i got one out (i think) a week or so ago - the trap was closed, it seemed heavier, and i put it outside... thing was, it was too cold that morning for me to hang around to watch, so i just set it up and left it. when i got back from work, it was empty, and i figured a) i caught him and got him out, or 2) he figured out how to get the peanut butter out and i didn't get him at all. then i heard scampering the next night and figured i didn't really trap him at all. but this morning the trap was closed, but didn't really feel any heavier. i looked inside, but saw nothing. apparently, though, this mouse was tiny and managed to curl up in the back and i didn't see him. when i saw the little brown one a few minutes ago, i got up to reset the trap. when i pulled out the back to put in more peanut butter, out plunked the other mouse (which was a rude awaking, since he seemed to be snoozing - took him a second to take off) onto the floor. i've reset the trap, but i'm afraid that now they know what happens when you get the peanut butter, they won't even get near the thing again. *sigh* i refuse to kill them, because that's just plain mean, but there aren't a lot of "catch and release" traps out there... most of them are the fatal kind. and though they don't really get into much (at least not of MY stuff - who knows what they do in the rest of the basement) they really need to go. time for round two...

At Least It's Only Once a Year...

christmas sucks for me. always has, and i don't totally understand it. it always makes me sad and depressed. i figured that this year would be different since i would be with the man i planned on spending my life with. yeah, well... since that's not happening, it's turning into the worst holiday season ever. i'm ridiculously depressed, obviously, and there's just no getting out of it. and as much as i love my family - and i really do - there's just no way i'm going to be able to function around all the holiday crap and family stuff. i had a minor breakdown on thanksgiving, and that family didn't even belong to me. (sorry about that, c... but thanks for dealing with me!) so, i will be spending christmas with the bff. i'm flying down to ft. lauderdale on christmas eve (i know, i know, but it was $50-100 cheaper than any other day) and we will be enjoying christmas on miami beach. christmas dinner will be at benihana's. it will be our very non-christmas-y christmas. he can't be with his family as he has to work the day before and after, and christmas really isn't his thing either... plus, we've both had a seriously crappy year, so hopefully this will be good for both of us. we'll see. i totally expect to become a big blubbery mess at some point, but hopefully i'll manage to wait till i'm not in public. we'll see. all i know is that he's my bff for a reason, so hopefully we'll make each other feel better...

From The Small Obnoxious Girl Today:

"yo, yo, yo! my name is jo*, i gots a 'fro**, i wear my pants down low. wooooooooooooorrrd!"

*incidentally, her name in not "jo"

** nor does she have a "fro"; she is korean, so she has the standard "long, black, shiny" 'do.

Is It Wrong To Hope for Something Bad?

i've been mysteriously ill for a year and a half now. fatigue, pain, blahdi, blahdi, blah, and it's still not fixed.  it's been labeled "fibromyalgia" (and we all know how i feel about that title), but it wasn't ever a clear diagnosis, since i had other issues that didn't fit into that mold. it's not leukemia, it's not my thyroid, and no, it's not lupus. a week or so ago, i had the worst spot (and yes, it was just a spot, on my left shoulder) of sunburn i think i've ever had. so i went to the urgent care place to see if there was anything i could do for the pain.  while taking the routine vitals, the doctor says, "you know you have a heart murmur, right?" clearly assuming i DID know.  which i didn't.  so i found a regular doctor, saw her on friday, and she concurred that there was a murmur.  when you add that to all the other things that are wrong with me, my heart becomes suspect.

today, i went in for an echocardiogram (which is basically an ultrasound of your heart).  i should find out within a week what's what.  and of course i don't want my heart to have a severe problem - it's my heart, and i kinda need it to, you know, survive and stuff.  but a part of me hopes that it is; that there's something there so they can finally say, "there! that's why you're broken!" and then we can take steps to fix me.  it seems morbid to hope for the worst, but really, feeling this way is getting really old...

WTF - A List

look, i'm a pretty go-with-it kind of a chick.  i understand that life requires highs and lows, flows and ebbs, and i do my best to enjoy or survive these things.  but seriously?  this is getting RIDICULOUS.  rather than ranting, i'm simply going to list the plethora of stupidity that has happened in the past year and a half or so.  i'm not sure what i did to piss off the universe - because really, i thought the 'verse and i were pretty buddy-buddy, but apparently i was wrong - but i wish i could fix it. so... a list:

1. start of mysterious illness (9/07)

2. mysterious illness worsens to the point that i'm unable to work and teach the way i want to, and the way my kids deserve

3. doctor after doctor after doctor until i'm a pincushion and still no diagnosis

4. i'm so ill that i fall behind on my teacher licensing, which needed to be done by the end of the school year

5. licensing got delayed, and i got caught in budget cuts

6. tried my best working part time, but couldn't make ends meet

7. no insurance now, and worsening symptoms

8. offered a job out of state, went in debt to move

9. get cut from that job, and i have a $1250 a month to pay in rent - oh, and still in debt

10. get scorched and end up with a festering cesspool of blisters for a shoulder.

11. and.... wait for it... while at the doctor's for the blistering shoulder, he discovers that i have a heart murmur.

yep, because being jobless in a town where i hang out with exactly one person (well, one and a half, i guess), have exorbitant rent and a few thousand dollars in debt, and a medical condition with no know cause or cure just isn't enough.  let's add a heart murmur to the mix. and because my mother occasionally reads this blog, i can't swear as much as i would really, really, really like to, so i'll just leave it at what the hell?!? aaaaarrrgh!!!

But What Am I Going To Wear?

i'm not sure if the following story makes a statement about the kind of person i am, that c is, or about our friendship in general... (possibly all of the above.)

c called me earlier this evening and said, "ok, so just be aware, you and i are going to slovakia.  possibly soon."  my first question was, "when are we going?" the second, "what's the weather like?" which naturally led to, "what should i pack?" and then, "how am i affording this?" not until about 8 or 9 on the question list did i finally come up with "wait, WHY are we going to slovakia?"  nope, didn't even crack the top 5 in the List of Pertinent Information about taking a trip half-way around the world to places i've never been and don't speak even the slightest bit of the language. 

i have priorities, it just seems as though they're in a slightly different order from the rest of the world...

Just Hand Me the Green Sippy Cup And No One Gets Hurt

this past weekend i went to orlando for a little r & r, some bnl, and a few other initials. the flight i found took me up to nyc before heading down to florida - because clearly, it's cheaper to take 2 flights instead of one and head north before going south - but should have been fairly easy. flight at 12:50, an hour layover at jfk, then into orlando at 5:40. yeah, i should know better. i found bwi, parked out in the long-term lot, and made it to my flight on time. i boarded the plane and we started toward the runway. then we sat there. and sat there. finally the captain came on, appologized, and explained that jfk was "regulating the volume of planes in and out of the airport," and we'd be sitting on the tarmac for another 50 minutes till we were cleared to leave. fantastic. then later in the flight, we were instructed to go into a holding pattern over atlantic city. when we finally touched down, and i made my way to the terminal (just 2 minutes before my next flight was scheduled to leave), i found out that it had actually left early. lovely. ok, no problem, just have to find the next flight. which wasn't till 8:30 that night. it was the only other flight from jfk to mco. so eventually they found me a flight to boston, which then connected with a flight to orlando. fine. then the flight to boston was delayed. when i got to boston, i had to switch airlines, and therefore terminals. wonderful. seriously, i must have walked over a mile - and quickly - to get to the delta flight. there were no trams, so i had to hoof it through corridor after corridor, down an escalator, and to another terminal, where i had to go through security again. at this point, it's 7:05 and my flight is set to leave at 7:20. and of course they have to look through my bag. "i'm never making my flight," i said wearily to the nice man who had to shake down my luggage. "what time?" he asked. i told him. "no problem, just head down that escalator and it'll be straight ahead. good! down the escalator, check. then.... not so much. three more long corridors (two of which had people-movers that were broken) up another escalator, then down to the end of the terminal to get to the gate. i was the next to last person to get on before the aircraft doors were shut. luckily we had an extremely entertaining old queen of a flight attendant that made me laugh. plus, my card wouldn't go through when i tried to pay for a fruit and cheese tray (i hadn't been able to eat since noon-ish), so he gave it to me for free. when i finally got to orlando, and finally got to rob's car, he handed me a green sippy cup (well, a sports bottle) full of gentleman jack and coke. and that, dear reader, is a good friend.

What, What, WHAT??

c has just informed me - and i went to the website to confirm it - that steven page is "parting company" with the rest of the barenaked ladies. i don't know how to feel about this. i mean, obviously i'm kinda upset about it; but the rest of them are going back into the studio in a few months to record some new stuff, so that's good, right? but is steve going to be in orlando with everyone else when i see them next weekend? i hope so... and i'd like to think he'd like to do one more show with them before bowing out. eeks...

and is it wrong of me to be glad that if it's anyone, it's steve and not ed?

Or Was It the Red Pill? Wait - I Don't Have Red Ones...

i seem to have done it again. once again, my memory - which was getting a bit run down on its own, thank you very much - is failing me. my mind used to be a steel trap; i had a photographic memory until i was about 18, at which point it apparently decided it had been working too hard and downgraded itself to a raccoon cage of the aluminum variety. (i have been assured this is perfectly "normal" - people with photographic memories often lose them at some point in their lives. whatever.) somewhere along the way it became more like mosquito netting: it kept most things safe, but every once in a while, something small enough would pass through. now, due i guess to the fibro or whatever the hell's wrong with me, that netting could pass for swiss cheese... the holes are large enough for a hippo to fall through, never mind my day-to-day or hour-to-hour activities. what did i forget this time? my meds. or rather, i forgot what i did with my meds.

this, unfortunately, is not new. i had to go home one day last year because i took the night-time meds in the morning and was literally falling asleep in my first period class. i sometimes forget to take the zoloft in the morning (when i'm always the fuzziest) and if i miss it two days in a row, i get physically ill, which then alerts me to the fact that i haven't taken it. i have one of those colossal pill-counter-container thingies (which john makes fun of me for) but i had been doing so well the last month or two that i haven't been using it. and because of it, i did what i did today... which was forgetting that i took my zoloft this morning, and taking another this afternoon. which is why i'm as wired as a hyena on 5 tripple-shot espressos. my body is beyond exhausted, but my mind - oh it's FAR too excited to be concious. it's 1:23 in the morning, and i'm jumping out of my skin - and trust me, these days i don't EVER bounce, let alone jump, out of anything. i also think i may have a percoset instead of the 800 mg ibuprofin. (hey, the pills look the same. why the percoset bottle was on the counter instead of the ibuprofin bottle is way beyond me. it's hard to tell really. i mean, i found a fork in the freezer yesterday, and a mango in with my tupperware. seriously, i'm ridiculous.) anyway, please excuse the random blathering, because i'm really a big fat mess right now. a big fat AWAKE mess... arrgh.

Really? Eat a Cheeseburger - It Won't Kill You

look, i am no petite fleur, but i’ve never been overly obsessed with my weight. when i was younger and dancing, i had no reason to; i was not as little and skinny as most of the girls i danced with or the girls i competed against, but i was healthy, in shape, and just as talented as anyone else. i’ve always thought of myself as “average” and though my thighs may be a little jigglier than i like, or my waist not as small as it could be, it’s never really been cause for much concern on my part. even now, when various medications have caused me to hover between a size 12 and 14 – do i love that? no. would i like to be back to my customary size 10? of course. but i’m not obsessing about it. i don’t lose OR gain weight easily, so i don’t stress… it’ll come off eventually, and besides, I am physically not able to start going to the gym or anything very strenuous. (although, let’s be honest, shall we? even if i were in fantastic physical shape, i wouldn’t go to a gym – it’s just not fun. i’ll look into dance classes or yoga, but plain workouts bore me and i can’t be bothered.) my mother did weight watchers for years, successfully, but i’ve never really dieted or worried about my food intake. i just watch that i’m not eating junk all the time and eat fruits and veggies whenever i can, mostly because i like them. i’ve also never been into weighing myself, and have never personally owned a scale. i base my fitness level on how my clothes fit and how toned i am, not some digital read-out.

i bring this up because i have observed the habits of the staff at our two main offices. most of the girls in this office (the one I’m at most frequently for now) don’t have a lot of self-imposed restraint when it comes to food. they’re mostly around my age-ish (mid-twenties to early-thirties), and while they don’t munch on candy bars all day or anything, they have no problem with going out to moe’s or wendy’s or wherever for lunch. they’re all also, for the most part, of average size or smaller. i don’t really think there’s anyone much bigger than i am, and it’s not like i’m a beluga. then there’s the other office. most of these girls are in their early- to mid-twenties and they OBSESS about their weight. they are constantly talking about it: how much they’ve lost or gained, how many calories they need to burn off at the gym tonight, how much they still need to lose, and what size they are now. i would like to point out that there’s only one receptionist over there that’s my size or a little bigger – and i’ve never heard her kvetching – while the rest of them are easily a size 6 or smaller. there may be one size 8, but she’s also quite tall, so she’s perfectly in proportion. their eating habits are diabolical. if someone brings in bagels, they will only eat one half, with the thinnest possible smattering of cream cheese on top. (honestly, i don’t see how there’s enough on there to even taste, but then that’s me, and we all know i love my food.) if someone brings in donuts, they will split one between two or even three of them. or worse, they will eat only part of it and throw the rest out. and they do this with nearly everything. (i had to restrain myself from commenting when one of them nibbled around the raspberry center in a jelly donut and tossed the rest yesterday. seriously? around the raspberry jelly? that’s the best part! and most of the donut!) they’ll eat half a slice of pizza and toss the rest; or if they bring their own lunches, it’s mostly a steady stream of fat-free yogurt, fruit, or salad. i don’t have a problem with any of those food items, but when your entire intake for an 8-hour day consists of a thing of plain yogurt and half an orange, you have some issues. especially if you’re already a size 4.

i’ve been trying to determine the difference between the two groups. there is the age factor, with most of the other office just out of college, or still in it. maybe that’s part of it, or maybe it’s the atmosphere. maybe once one or two people start discussing it, everyone else feels like they should fixate on it too? i really don’t get it. life is too short to not eat ice cream (fake or otherwise) and half a pizza occasionally. and chances are that unless you have a wickedly slow metabolism or hyperactive thyroid, you really don’t need to count every calorie or measure every portion. i realize that obesity is a problem, especially in this country, but the wrong people are worried about it. the truly obese and unhealthy seem largely concerned with the maintenance of their medical problems, not the elimination of the weight, which is the cause of many of those medical problems. and the young and healthy are preoccupied with getting as thin as possible and staying that way. talk about your skewed priorities…