Finding Yourself Despite Yourself » I’m nuts

I’m blogging just to tell you I’m not blogging

fidget — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 16:27:42 +0000

I’m blogging just to tell you I’m not blogging this week, thereby rendering this blog post completely incorrect and useless.

We spent our 10 yr anniversary and Valentines day barfing- to the point that I nearly blacked out. I’m pretty sure I felt my stomach turn inside out and smack me in the uvula. So now I’m wiped out but I can’t be, no no I can’t. This coming weekend The Hubs and I have some work banquet thingy to attend. I’m nervous and kind of pissy about the whole deal for several reasons

* The money to get all dressed up could better serve my sanity if I funneled it directly into my camera fund

* Leaving Saffi for an undetermined period of hours and praying she doesn’t scream the whole time and that my boobs don’t explode while pretending to eat my black tie meal

*Having to pretend to eat- god knows if anything will be gluten free. I don’t want to call any unfavorable attention to my husband so I’ll be quietly pushing my food around my plate for several courses.

*My hair. It’s bad. It’s so bad that I do not want to take a picture of it and post it here. Considering that I’ve posted a nearly naked picture of my bloated flabby post baby body, you know it has to be REALLY bad.

Honestly, I’ve cried about it more then once. Admittedly it doesn’t look horrifying when it’s straightened but it took Jenni 40 minutes with her Chi to make it look like I cunt punched Joan Jett and snatched her hair. I don’t own a Chi nor do I possess the time to straighten my hair every day even IF I owned such a device. Let’s not even get into the fact that the texture of my hair is ruined and that once this banquet is over, I may have to shave my head and start all over again since I dont know if I could find a stylist I’d trust to touch my head without me hyperventilating and possibly accidentally on purpose stabbing said stylist in a blind panic. Yes, this haircut is precisely that horrible and traumatic..

There are like 12 more bullet points to cover about why this event is not at the top of my sunshine list but Ive broken out into a cold sweat over the hair situation and the keys are slippery. I think I’m going to go back to the corner, put a bag over my head and rock myself until next week.

A Valentine for my dear readers

fidget — Sun, 14 Feb 2010 19:28:09 +0000

Happy Valentines Day

Tell me I’m not the only one who does this

fidget — Sat, 29 Aug 2009 05:17:11 +0000

I get a few magazines every month that are geared towards women, more specifically domestic pass times like cooking, cleaning, and such (like I need the guilt trip right?). And, I have noticed a layout formula that I find most disturbing………. and fattening- yes, reading magazines is causing my butt to spread from here to Mongolia. It goes like this:

Cover, editorial, ads, ads, ads, why your skin sucks, organize everything using paperclips and wallpaper covered shoes boxes, things you should covet, how I lost 300lbs, cookie recipe…..

and I will skim, skim, skim, skim, skim, skim, cry over inability to organize clutter without turning into a house Nazi, skim, pause to gawk and wonder if I could do that too and oooooo COOOKIES! which I will decide to modify and bake immediately and close the magazine before I get to 10 simple ways to tone your underarm flab.

Then, as I sit down to “test” said cookies (because I could not possibly allow myself to unwittingly POISON someone with bad cookies right?) I’ll reread the “I lost 8000lbs” article, feel guilty that I just ate 2 cookies and console myself by hogging down 2 dozen more. Then in a fit of remorse I’ll do 30 sets of each suggested exercise to tone my underarm/thigh/chin/belly button flab as if that will be penance enough for the 6000 calories I just ate….

I’m not the only one who does this, right?

menu planning for the planning phobic

fidget — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 15:56:01 +0000

I found myself googling this very phrase today. You see, I want to plan our menu, shop around that plan, stick to that plan and save us even more money but I’m planning phonic.

A few years ago while in therapy, we tried to tackle this problem. We meaning, the therapist kept giving me a day planner worksheet as homework and me bringing it back a week later covered in scribbled out plans and eraser holes. The closest I could get was writing down doctor appointments and then on other days writing “today I will do something”- not exactly what he had in mind.

I know part of the issue is fearing failing at the day. As if writing down “today I’m going to do laundry, clean the bathroom and make Swedish meatballs” means that I have completely failed at life if one or more of those tasks just doesn’t happen. That’s a lot of pressure. Just thinking about it makes me want to hyperventilate.

The other half of the equation is me suddenly getting all 5 year old on my schedule and thinking YOU CAN’T MAKE ME DO IT! As though the mere suggestion that I should plan on eating tilapia next Tuesday takes away my last grains of sweet sweet freedom and thus I must rebel accordingly.

My planning hatred has impeded other areas of my life too. I wish I could break up the household cleaning over the week instead of cleaning like a mad woman one day when I can no longer take the mess. Mira thrives on planning, feeding on ample notice, ruminating over the impending date and driving me up the wall. I’d love to be able to provide her with a Monday we mop, Tuesday we wash, Wednesday we.. kind of life. I just don’t know how.

Why I don’t do camping

fidget — Thu, 18 Jun 2009 15:15:57 +0000

Most people would assume that my refusal to camp was part of some princess complex but for me, that is not the case. Yeah, so the ground isn’t the most comfortable thing to sleep on and crapping behind a tree isn’t exactly the kind of vacation memory I want to cherish but these are things I can work around. What I can not work around is being murdered in my sleep.

Stop laughing.

No really, stop laughing.

Dudes, I am serious. Have you ever googled “murdered while camping?” It pretty much confirms all my fears.

When presented with the opportunity to separate myself from the faceless murderous masses using either a very thin sheet of nylon or a wall of wood/concrete/brick, I’m certainly not going to choose something that a hunting knife slices through like butter. This means that all tents, pop up campers, and yurts are a no go.

And lest you continue to just mock me, let us not forget the Girl Scout tragedy of ‘77- even the queens of camping are not immune.

Thus, until they start selling tents complete with an anti murderer force field, you’ll find me over in the cabins or a hotel room behind a bolted door, possibly with the dresser pushed in front of it.

Summer hair cut, now with porn star nipples

fidget — Sat, 23 May 2009 15:33:50 +0000

It’s that time of year again folks. You know the one, the one where The Hubster threatens to shave his own head so I start bawling and acquiesce the shaving of Levi’s head. Last years shave fest was tipped off by a horrible haircut. Ever since, the Hubster’s been chomping at the bit to try again.

Of course, I had to document the now yearly sheering and in true Hubster fashion he bitched about photographic evidence of his poochie nipples / “fat” rolls. Rather then plainly label said nipples and rolls (like I did last time) I decided that as a loving and devoted wife, I would do my best to make the Hubster less self conscious about his nipples being on the interwebz so I bring you censored, cropped and finally T-shirted sheering of Levi’s head:

Stroller folding hell

fidget — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 21:40:07 +0000

I have this really awesome stroller that I won. It rides smoothly, looks sleek and even has an adjustable height handle which I totally adore. Yeah, it could use more basket space but that’s really the only complaint Ive got about the thing. My second favorite part (i say second favorite because the adjustable handle truly rules my Amazonian world)? I love how easily this thing collapses. You can even fold it down with a baby on your hip! Well, if you REMEMBER how to fold it down.

You see, while I LOVE this stroller, I usually am rocking the double stroller so it’s sometimes weeks before I bust the Mutsy back out. Yesterday I had an appointment with only Boden in tow. Things went swimmingly until it was time to leave and then I could not remember how to fold the damn thing down.

After several phone calls, beastly screams and a failed attempt at tying it to my bumper, Jenni found an online animation on how to collapse it and helped a hapless gal out. Of course, this was not before my skirt blew up over my head and a crowd of onlookers gathered to gawk

*yes, I was wearing granny panties and yes, I may have quite possibly maybe sort of over airbrushed my thighs*

**and yes, I totally need an eyebrow wax**