I'm just your average, everyday, divorced 38 year old girl -- overweight, tragically unhip,
and trying to make a life for myself. I live with two furry beasts, Dave and Abby, whose
feline mission in life is to choke me with their fur. Nothing special.
Saturday morning (v. early). The lovely and talented Georgia, who I'm sucking up to in hopes of becoming a background character in her upcoming novel, informs me that she tagged me like a week ago, so here's my take on a list of Seven Things I'd Never Do - we're going to do Six Things I've Done and One Thing I'd Never Do instead. Doesn't that sound like fun??? C'mon, you know you're intrigued!
1. Kiss a total stranger in a bar. With tongue.
2. Flash a bartender just to get some beads. With work colleagues lurking.
3. Make friends with someone solely on the basis of their sporting a fabulous handbag.
4. Smoke pot. Ever.
5. Bring a friend to a political function who proceeded to throw up on the candidate's shoes.
6. Keep a 2 carat solitaire engagement ring after I'd said no to the marriage proposal.
7. Dress my beloved kitty, Dave, up as Count Catula for Halloween and then take his picture.
OK, so that's it. If it amuses you to do so, you may guess which of the above I really would never do. I will reveal the correct answer tomorrow.
Oh, and I'm tagging Beatte and Shannin just because I'm interested to see what would make their lists.
UPDATE (Monday night): The correct answer is #4 - I've never even had the slightest urge to smoke pot. Yes, I know that I'm the only person alive that can say that and no, I'm not planning to change that statistic now.
In case you think your problems are insurmountable
An insider's tale of what's going on in New Orleans right now. I wish I could just run down to WalMart, grab as much water and canned food as would fit in Esme the Escape, and zoom to the area to help. Would that it were that easy! VLSCI is doing a 2-for-1 match of any employee donations to help the Katrina victims, so I've sent money to the Humane Society because I don't even want to think about what's happening to the animals given the conditions the humans are living in. Besides, when I heard about someone prying the fluffy dog out of a little boy's hands as he boarded a bus for Houston (because no animals are allowed on the buses), I just cried because I knew that dog was going to die alone and without his master.
(Also, FYI, the Tribune Corporation - parent company for many newspapers and television stations nationwide - has established a relief campaign and will be donating 50 cents for every dollar they receive in donations, so please consider directing your contributions in that direction.)
Thursday evening. I was reminded by the beautiful and talented Marla that it had been more than a week since I'd posted - Me: "Really? No, it can't be!" - so I'm back. I don't really have much to report other than the fact that I'm run off my feet at work and seem to have sunk back into depression at some point that I can't identify.
I know that it's depression because of the tell-tale warning signs which, for me, include the borderline-manic need to get home as quickly as possible after work, throw things down wherever, and then sit on the couch eating a huge quantity of food while not thinking about anything except the next bite. Oh yes, and also taking no action on the absolute filth that surrounds me at home. (Yes, I really mean filth.) The real pain of the thing, though, is that the depression makes me want to isolate myself (shame over all of my inadequacies, including the house and my eating, of course) so I haven't yet made the call to one of the four referrals I got for psychologist specializing in eating disorders. Thankfully, I'm still taking care of my responsibilities with Alcott and making those associated calls, even though that particular aspect of my life is probably one of the greatest sources of stress right now. (Can't go into it because it's confidential, just know that it's some tough stuff and I'm really frustrated.)
Tomorrow I will make a call to one of the folks on the list and Saturday I'm going to visit the gym I'd mentioned in my last posting. I know that working out (if only I can muster the strength of character to just do it) always helps pull me out of the depression, but the pull of the food is just so very strong right now. If I can get one workout in - like on Saturday, for instance - it will be one step toward getting on the path to health again.
Did I mention that most of my clothes don't fit anymore? Yes, that's right, I'd thrown out all of my starting size clothes (26, in case anyone cares) so now I'm stuck buying them all over again. I cannot tell you how lovely it was to be at WalMart hoping and praying that they had something that would fit me. Ugh, this should have been in my past...I was a size 18 just five months ago for goodness' sakes! Oh, well. Thankfully, there were several things that fit me that I actually liked and look good in (I think), so crisis averted.
