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Weekend Synopsis and a Bit About My Body

Issue Date: Monday, Feb. 02, 2004

There are approximately 60 people who work in this building. There are two bathrooms. One is the women’s and one is the men’s. There are only three little stalls in the women’s restroom, with one of them being equipped for handicapped people.* There is about 6 feet of space between the stall doors and the two sinks, hardly enough room to perform an arabesque.

*I never use the handicapped one unless all others are occupado. I fear bathroom karma.

So why, please tell me, do women decide to conduct lengthy conversations about decorating their entry hall buffet tables with a friggin bowl from Hobby Lobby in the bathroom? Please. Ladies, step out into the hallway. Hanging out in front of the stalls… it’s creepy.

If I were to take off my shoe and toss it nonchalantly over the door, it would hit you in the head.

I have a shy bladder anyway. The restroom, especially one so small, is not meant for holding decorating classes titled, “Cheap Crap at Craft Stores Can Be Yours Too!”

In other news. Did ya’ll see Janet’s boobie? Mister and I did. And I tell ya what, we feel changed for viewing it. Our lives finally have meaning. I can die now.


It wasn’t that big of a deal? You don’t say. CNN seems to think so. While getting ready this morning I listened to several CNN anchors bemoaning the question, “Was it planned?” more than four times in one hour. Every radio station in the country is talking about it and rumors are flying faster than grease through a goose.

Was it planned? I think so, but more importantly who cares? Yes, Janet has an album coming out. Yes, Janet needs the spark and sizzle to fuel her career that the Madonna/Brittany kiss sparked last summer. But come on. It wasn’t half as humiliating as Diana Ross grabbing Lil’ Kim’s boobie in 1999.

It’s a boob … with a sparkly thingy on it. Let it go. Kids that happened to be watching didn't get traumatized by anything that they can’t see on prime time TV or after 10 pm on the Cartoon Network. Yep, the cartoons may be drawn boobies, but they are boobies nonetheless.

The only thing I would even halfway give a crap about would be if Justin did it without it being rehearsed. Hello, sexual assault.


Did I run you guys off with the soapbox entry and the subsequent apology? Sorry. Really. I’ll keep it real like my pal Nelly from now on.

Mister and I had a wonderful weekend. None of the fighting and mad cleaning like last weekend. We did do our chores and our little abode does look charming. Let’s see. Friday night we went to Chipotle for dinner. We took our snacks over to my sister’s house so we could visit with my folks. They were babysitting Gray and making a cake (with sprinkles!) for my sister’s birthday. My sister and BIL were out for her birthday supper. We enjoyed chatting with Momma and Daddy for several hours then went home to go to bed.

Saturday morning we were up with the roosters to do our chores and clean up the place. Mister ran to the market for a few things for lunch while I got dressed and we hosted our first “Parents Over For Lunch”. It was so nice. The conversations always flow so easily when we are all together. The only things missing were the sister, Gray and the BIL.

After the parents left we made plans for the rest of the day. Mister offered to take me to a movie as a treat. We have several movies and a couple DVDs that are duplicates from when we merged our collection, so I opted to get a light dinner, swing by the Movie Trading Company and to get ice cream from Baskin Robbins.* We also went to the local library which is fantastic! I have a library card now! We watched Signs, ate ice cream and had a wonderful Saturday evening.

Sunday we went to a new church (really enjoyed it) and then spent the rest of the day driving through neighborhoods looking for homes that were for sale, lease or rent. We got a lot of information. Wow, homes are expensive aren’t they!

Late yesterday afternoon I developed a migraine. My little cocktail of 3 Ibuprophens and 2 Excedrins did not work. I had to have Mister give me an Imitrex shot. That was pretty rough, but I really enjoyed our weekend.

*Mmmmmm Quarter Back Crunchy goodness. Geeze that stuff is heavenly. I can only have a few bites before it gets to be too much for me though. I can keep a pint (quart… whatever) of ice cream in the freezer for up to 6 months. I have even been known to throw away ice cream. Yes, I’m sorry to say it’s true.

So… why the hell is my ass the size of U-Haul van you ask? I would like to blame genetics, but my mother is roughly the size of a small parrot. So I’m going to have to go with what’s behind door number three Monty! Yes! It’s because I sit on my posterior and don’t eat correctly! Or I could always take the lazy way out and link to Robyn’s explanation. I can holler “Amen!” to almost everything but the PCOD thing [read: Polycystic Ovarian Disease]. Seriously, that woman hit the proverbial nail on the head.

All of those years being so nervous and swallowing so much rage and shame, the only things I could keep in my stomach without feeling so awful, bloated and having the most amazing acid reflux were carbs. Carbs, carbs, carbs. Mmmm baby, carbs.

I can remember going to college in 1990. Fall semester. I was so incredibly worried about gaining the “Freshmen 15” [pounds], I was not sleeping because of living in the dorm with all the new sounds, I was worried about failure and not being pretty enough or thin enough. I literally survived on Dr. Pepper, beer and mashed potatoes for weeks. I lost the Freshman 12 and when I went home for a weekend my mother was so pleased with my weight loss I continued with that pattern for years.

Can you say vain and whore for praise? I can.

I am approximately 5’8” with a large frame. In 1990-1991 I weighed in at (tops) 121 pounds. That is gross on my frame. You could see all of my ribs, my spine was prominent and my hipbones were so angular and pointy that I couldn’t lie on my tummy comfortably. I wore a size 7 Rocky Mountain jean and my hipbones would get raw from the denim rubbing against them when I went dancing.

Here is a picture a friend and I (I’m on the left) when I was just starting the downward spiral. I didn’t have much to loose in the first place.

My most attractive and comfortable weight is 165 to 170. At that weight I am a size 12. I could live with that quite happily. I don’t want to starve myself, and to be 10 pounds lighter than my ideal weight is a full time job. To quote Margaret Cho, “That is not a job I want for the rest of my life. I am turning in my time card and walking away.”

I’m sure that the weight that is the best on me is not ideal for many people and most of those Kimono Dragons [read painfully thin women who host charity events in Dallas] with Chanel accessories would probably remark that I am obese. I can live with that as well.

My only job now is to get back down to that “ideal weight”.

Wish me luck.

I’ll need it.

Oh, and just for fun… and a little bit of lighter material…read this one from the precious Miss Doxie. I swear. This almost made me pee a little.


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To understand this dear reward (above) at all, you must hie thee on and read gatsby’s grape ape entry and my comments.

And because of said comments he sent me my very own dream turtle in an email titled wee gift with these words attached, “my purple monkey is booked solid so i ordered you a tangerine turtle. hope he proves helpful.”

The Graphic Below Courtesy of Papernapkin.

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