Goodbye 36

Today is the last day I'll spend as a 36 year old.

I don't know why, but there seems to be such a huge difference between 36 and 37. And yes, I know there's only one year difference. I'm bad at math but not that bad.  Just symbolically - like when I say "I'm 37" it just seems sounds...old.

I guess because I'm creeping closer to 40. And that's just weird.  Not the actual aging part - I'm okay with that - that's never been a big deal to me.  What makes it weird is that at my age, my mother had already become a grandmother.

And that's weird.

The thought of me having a child old enough to be married and have a child? I can't even wrap my mind around it.  And the thought that it's likely that would have been my life, if the17 year old me would have had her say, is just crazy.

So I'm celebrating more than just another year - I'm celebrating where I am at this moment and in this place in my life. I'm celebrating the disappointments, the joys, the near-misses, the silliness, the laughter, the friendships, the mistakes, the opportunities, the experiences and the love.

And of course, I will also be celebrating the fact that I plan to indulge in a ridiculous amount of cake.

But really, I can say it's been a great 36 years and I'm so lucky to have landed where I did!

Another One Bites The Dust

I fell off a curb.

Well, “fell” doesn’t really describe it. I catapulted off of it.

I had some errands to run today so I skipped out on the lunchtime workout. That was mistake #1.  While I was out I ran into the store for a Diet Dr. Pepper. That was mistake #2.  So I’m walking out to my car, talking on the phone (mistake #3) when all the sudden I don’t know what’s happening but I am flying through the air.  I didn’t trip or step into anything slick. It was like I had been blindsided by a linebacker – all the sudden I’m just going down.

I have no idea what’s happening.  My phone went flying towards the car, my keys went the other direction. And I yell “Oh my God!”

And as ridiculous as it is, I’m falling and all I can think is “I’m gonna be pissed if I break my shoe!”

Finally, I land.  I’m all sprawled out in the parking lot, looking crazy. I sit up and realize I’m missing a shoe. Then I know immediately what happened – I must have broken a heel.  But I look over; see my shoe and it’s intact. They both are.

Then, in lightning speed I hop up and try to scramble to my car so I can run away as fast as I can because I am mortified.  But it’s too late. This guy comes over, looking worried and amused at the same time, to check on me.

And that just makes it 10 times worse. Like, NO! Can you just pretend you didn’t see any of that?

I was in my car, putting it in reverse as I said “I’m fine, thanks.” and got the hell out of there.

The only thing more bruised than my ego is my knee. Which took the brunt of the fall when I made contact with the cement. It's already swollen but doesn't hurt too bad. Only when I bend, walk or put any kind of weight on it.

 

And the only thing worse than banging up my knee is that I don’t even have a cool story to go with it.  Hey, what happened to your knee?  Oh, I don’t know…I just forgot how to walk for a minute.

Party Of Five

We've taken my SIL in. And I'm not sure how long this living arrangement will last but I can tell you that it's going to be one of the biggest challenges I have ever encountered.

I'm not particularly fond of my husband's family.  They think I'm some uppity, snobby, arrogant city girl that thinks she's better than them and they believe I don't like them because they're poor country folks.

And I might be some of those things but that has nothing to do with why I don't like them. They are manipulative, racist people who abuse the welfare system, thrive on drama and have no sense of hygiene.

And none of that has anything to do with money. You could be a bazillionaire and I still wouldn't like ya.

His sister is probably the least offensive of the entire clan. Except the hygiene part. It's so rough - we're talking a lifetime of not brushing teeth or regular bathing. And my husband has addressed it but it really hasn't helped. Which I totally don't care if that's the way she wants to live - except that she's in my house!  I can't hardly talk to her without choking because the smell is just so overpowering.

Since my husband usually works weekends, I carted her around all day Saturday.  That was my first time in such a confined, enclosed space. With no air flow. At the first stop I sent him a text "I'm sorry but your sister CANNOT go with us next weekend." 

And that was a big deal because in our relationship, I'm not the demanding one. I don't usually make definitive declarations - I'm all, can we talk about this, or what do you think about that. I don't just lay down rules or say what is or what is not happening. But there is NO way I could be trapped in a car for 3 hours with her. No way.

So not only am I dealing with things like driving and watching her chew on her fingernails and then spit them out in my car but I'm also dealing with the fact that I have no privacy.

And that I'm super difficult.

Yeah, in case you haven't noticed, I'm picky, controlling, demanding, selfish and territorial. Just a generally difficult person. These personality traits do not make for a very gracious hostess. Which is why it goes all over me when I see his sister has gotten our mail, taken my clothes out of the dryer or moved my stuff around.  It even bugged me that she did dishes. 

Part of that is I've seen her do dishes,  so I know they weren't really clean.  Then I had to find a way to stick them in the dishwasher to rewash them without hurting her feelings. But mostly, I just don't want her to touch my stuff or mess with anything. I literally ran in the kitchen this morning and pushed her out of the way when I heard her doing dishes again so that I could do it instead. This is my house, I'll take care of  my own freaking dishes!

See, I have issues.

So this is gonna be a very trying experience and I'm just hoping I can survive. That my husband can survive. And that his sister leaves soon!

Happy Friday

I got a message from someone that told me that my thighs didn’t actually look like thunder thighs in the picture I posted the other day. And you know I just couldn’t go without acknowledging that.  First, thank you. I totally appreciate the lies.  Second, if they didn’t, let me apologize. I didn’t mean to intentionally mislead anyone with that photo.  I’ve just mastered the art of staging my body in such a way to downplay my flaws.  It’s a skill I’ve spent years perfecting.

Just know, if I’m gonna lie, it will always be in my favor. So trust me, when I say I have big thighs it’s because I have big thighs. And apparently really freckly legs.  Like you could spend a day playing connect the dots…print out a picture and try it, it would fun. 

You know, I don’t ever remember having dotted legs, but this age thing…it does mean things to the body.

You know what else is mean? The fact that I'm working on this beautiful Friday. Seriously want to skip out and just go enjoy the day.  Unfortunately, my sense of responsibility is stronger than my love for fun.

This time anyway.

 

Ghetto Girl

My best friend gets on to me all the time because I tell on myself – when I mess up, do something silly, or get in embarrassing situations. She tells me all the time that people wouldn’t know if I didn’t tell them. Which is true. But I guess I have no shame, because I share anyway.

Which is why I’m sharing this.  This, ladies and gentleman, is what I call ghettofashion. 

 

 

 

Yes, my pants are being held up by safety pins.

In my defense, I don’t usually wear my pants like this. So let me explain.

While second grade should be a time of happiness and sunshine, for us this school year will forever be known as The Year From Hell.  Because the school bus picks M up from her daycare at 6:30. Yes. Picks her up at 6:30.  Which means we have to leave the house at 6:15.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to get two kids up and ready and out the door by 6:15?

Well I do. And there isn’t anything happy or sunshiney about it.

Our mornings are down to an exact science and we have zero minutes to spare. So when I put on my pants this morning and they were too big I didn’t have time to find anything else to wear. Literally, I was being yelled out to come down stairs, that we were already running late. 

So as quickly as I could I tried to find a belt. Only one would fit through the belt loops and it was bright pink. Let’s not even talk about the fact that I’m 36 and have no business even owning a bright pink belt…this belt would have been okay except my shirt is a little sheer and you could see it.  It looked all kinds of ridiculous.  So I ripped it off, grabbed two pins and literally ran downstairs.

And as awkward as it is to be pinned into my pants, this has actually turned out to be okay. For one, I’m all kinds of pumped that my pants were too big. Like hello, who doesn’t want that to happen? And secondly, my shirt is long enough to cover the pins so it looks completely normal. You would never even know…if I hadn’t told you.

So now you know…I’m a ghettofashionista.  I would hang my head in shame but I'm too busy trying to keep these pants up.

Thunder Thighs

Friday as I was changing to go to the gym I noticed there was a hole in my shorts. In the rear. I put them on and sure enough…the hole was right smack in the middle of my left butt cheek. Unfortunately, I could tell this wasn’t a new hole. And even more unfortunate than that was the fact that about 90% of my underwear are thongs. Or tbacks. (Yes, there is a difference between the two. You don’t spend two years working in the lingerie department and not learn something.)  Which means for I don’t know how long, I’ve been going into the gym and baring my butt. Just a teeny tiny little bit of it, but still…

No wonder I’ve been getting a bunch of high-fives!

So my dilemma – wear them regular and expose everyone but feel awkward because now I know I’m exposing them?  Or roll the shorts up enough that my shirt covers the hole but create booty shorts in the process? I opted for booty shorts.

It wasn’t pretty.

So today I wore a new pair of shorts. Those didn’t work out too well either. Because I totally have thunder thighs. Not like “shaking your house apart thunder”, more like “rattling the windows thunder”.  But regardless, still thunder.

Here comes the thunder!

When I was young and I started to get that little curve in the inside of my thighs, I thought it made me soft and womanly. Now I realize it only makes my shorts ride up and bunch in unattractive ways.

I hope, as with other parts of my body, that all this treadmill work will fix that little problem. I mean, I know it’s all about being healthy but if I’m gonna bust my butt every day for an hour, I want to see a little difference. Something besides my boobs shrinking.

Because honestly, I really am trying here. I’m up to an 8 minute run with a 5 minute walk and then another 8 minute run.  You have no idea how long 8 minutes is until you try to run it. Longest 8 minutes of my life.  And it’s only gonna get harder. When I get discouraged, I look forward on the program to see what’s coming up. It kinda keeps me motivated – like, hey, at least I’m not having to run 20 minutes straight. Yet.

So looks like I need to go buy another pair of shorts. While I appreciate support, it just seems all kinds of wrong to hear my thighs clap for me…

Day Late

I'm really grateful that I got to go to Chicago last week, however, it also meant that I missed the biggest thing that has ever happened in our town. Except for when the state capitol seal was "stolen" in 1910. And trust me, that was a big deal. 103 years later and people around here are still bitter about it.  So I guess technically I missed the second biggest thing to ever happen - a Mumford and Sons concert!

The city has been planning it for at least 6 months and it was suppose to be a huge, weekend long festival.  They were setting-up a couple of days before we left and we were already experiencing crazy traffic.  Not sure how they fit all those people into our sleepy little town but apparently they did. And I heard it was an awesome concert.

Equally upsetting, maybe even a little more so, was that a few weeks before the conference I saw some advertisements that Kevin James was coming to campus for a performance. I love Kevin James - he is hilarious! I am sure his stand-up was great. So I jumped on the computer to get us some tickets and was stoked when I realized they were really reasonable. But then I realized his one day performance was the day we flew out.  Really? That stinks!

Then when we were in Chicago we're walking down the street when we see a billboard advertising...Kevin James!  So I run over to check and...he's there the day after we leave!

I guess it's like so many other things in life - it doesn't matter how bad you want it, sometimes you just gotta accept that it's not meant to be.