A Bed Day (That is not quite a bad day)

11 06 2012

I have a pounding headache, I’m in bed and watching television. And I just remembered to take the fish out of the fridge so I have something to eat for dinner tonight. (See, this is how I gained mega weight, not planning meals. Well actually, the first fifty pounds were due to a medication I was taking, the last fifteen (?) were due to giving up and eating crap.) It’s insane how easy it is to eat badly. Oh well.

I’m glad it’s warm again, even if it means I have to wear shorts sometimes. I have no problems with my legs between ankle and knee, but my thighs must be covered, because even eighteen pounds later, my upper thighs are not pretty. I heard that apple cider vinegar can help their appearance, but I’m not sure if that’s true or not, so I’m trying to go the burn fat/increase muscle route instead. Of course that’s the hard way, but what the heck, it’s not like I have anything else to do.(Cue moping about my jobless existence.) 

Oh, I actually broke up with A. Me. I made a decisive move and BROKE UP WITH SOMEONE. I got such a kick out of that, in a weird way. It was a little sad, and I’ll miss the connection, but it was too crazy, I need someone more stable. I feel stronger now that I’ve done it. Everyone out there who feels like their relationship isn’t working out, or isn’t getting what they need, but is still hanging around-you don’t have to stay if you think it isn’t going to work out. You can go. I think I’m going out clubbing this weekend. I want to party.

And on a somber note, because it’s on my mind. My godmother is dying. I haven’t really said it out loud yet, and seeing it on my screen hurts. She’s my mother’s best friend since grad school, and her daughter and I were always around each other as kids, so we’re…not close, exactly, but we’re always glad to see each other, and that’s saying something. I always thought us girls were all going to get married (well, her daughter is already married, he’s a pilot and he’s nice) and have kids and she and my mom would sit together and play with their grandchildren while we all cooked dinner together. I hope we get to do that one more time.

I’m going to stop talking about this now because I’m going to cry. I’m going to talk about my apparently fiercely ticking biological clock. I am obsessed with kids, especially babies. My maternal instinct is going into hyper super overdrive. It’s a little frustrating, because I’m nowhere near ready to be a mother, and I think I quite fancy myself free and full of possibility (on a good day anyway), but part of me wants to be settled with a house of my own and a love of my own so we can have babies and raise them into children and have a settled life. And apparently I’m turning into one of those women who is obsessed with wedding shows, Say Yes to the Dress in particular. And not the one in Atlanta, because between the southern colloquialisms and the lackluster staff and the not as fantastic southern people, it lacks something. I look at wedding gowns online. I am newly single and I look at wedding gowns mostly because they are pretty and I’m all too romantic.

Has anyone seen the commercial for that new Clinique lip stain? What is with the bouncing cubes of gelatin? 

Also, I now admit I really want to watch that movie with Channing Tatum (is that how you spell his name) where he’s a male stripper. A movie that shamelessly panders to the desire for hot almost completely naked men, whoo! (Besides, Matt Bomer’s in it, and I love him. Like, if I saw him on the street I would run to him and ask him to take pictures with me and sire my children. What, he’s gay? …well, I’m still getting a picture. And maybe a hug. He’s just so beautiful. I would eat him up like candy.)

…okay, it’s sandwich time. And Say Yes to the Dress.

                                                                                                       Sincerely yours,





Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: