I don't know how I'm dragging myself to work each day. I literally cry all the way to the office(which is preferable to throwing up the whole way I guess), and once I'm there, all I can think about is how much I want to go home and sleep and puke in peace. Luckily my boss is pretty sympathetic because she had a rough pregnancy a few years ago, so she's been really cool. I don't even think she'd mind if I just went home, which I'm seriously considering doing.
I'm really glad that we told my parents this weekend, because that means I can call my mommy and complain about how sick I feel, which is really kinda nice. My parents were totally flabbergasted, by the way. You should have seen the confusion on their faces when they opened the picture frames we got them that said "Grandparents" on them. They were like, did you give this to the wrong person or what? But then my mom suddenly got it and she screamed, "Are you pregnant? Oh my Gawd!" You could tell she was thrilled. Strangely enough, my dad's first word's were "oh no...", which sort of threw me at first, but then he got this big silly grin on his face and I knew he was really happy. My parents were made to be grandparents - so even though it's going to be hard for them to come to terms with being called grandma and grandpa because it makes them feel old, they're gonna love it. I know my mom is going to enjoy the next 7 months and all the planning that we have to do. She thrives on that kind of thing. She's probably already dreaming of nurseries and baby names.
I just wish I could stop feeling so sick so I could enjoy it, too.
Friday, July 30, 2004
Friday, July 23, 2004
Meetin' the Doc
I had my first OBGYN appointment today. I was a little nervous about whether or not I'd like my doctor, but Dr. Fine put me at ease right away. I told her about my puking problem and she prescribed some different things that should help - and if they don't she assured me that there were other things to try. I could have kissed her! My favorite part of the exam was the ultrasound. Who would have thought that I'd get to have one so soon? There really isn't much to see at this point, but there is definitely something there - and that makes all of this hurling all over the place worth it. She even gave me a picture of the scan to take home to Hoby, and I know he's gonna freak out.
We're planning on telling my parents this weekend, and I'm glad I'll have something to show them. We got them little picture frames that say "Me and My Grandma" and "Me and My Grandpa". I can't wait to see the look on their faces...
We're planning on telling my parents this weekend, and I'm glad I'll have something to show them. We got them little picture frames that say "Me and My Grandma" and "Me and My Grandpa". I can't wait to see the look on their faces...
Tuesday, July 20, 2004
The Amazing Puking Pregnant Lady
Week 7:
Consider yourselves warned - the first few months of pregnancy are a bitch. Being nauseous is bad enough, but being nauseous constantly for WEEKS ON END is the pits. Everything makes me sick - moving around, being too hot, smelling someone's lunch cooking in the microwave -even writing about those things make me want to hurl. All of a sudden, I just get THAT FEELING, you know the twinge in my teeth and the way my mouth starts to water, and I'm lucky to make it to the bathroom in time. I've stopped eating things based on how they taste, it's now all based on how it will taste when it comes back up. Sighhhh - what happened to that healthy pregnant glow? I look like a wrung out dish rag.
It just occurred to me that this is the first time I'm mentioning that we're having a baby. I just found a few weeks ago. One day, on a whim, I decided to take a home pregnancy test. I didn't really think it would come out positive - I mean, my periods have always been irregular and the only symptom I had was incredibly sore boobs. But since I take a bunch of medication that wouldn't be safe for a baby, I though it was better to be safe than sorry. Imagine my surprise when the little pink plus sign showed up on that stick! It took my breath away. I just couldn't believe it - we certainly hadn't been trying (although we also hadn't been using serious birth control either - unless you count the rhythm method as serious. You heard it hear first, ladies - THE RHYTHM METHOD DOESN'T WORK!) I wouldn't totally believe it until I heard it from a doctor, so I made an appointment for the very next day and began to mentally struggle with whether I wanted this EPT test to be wrong or right.
I went to the doctor's the next morning and they confirmed what I think I already knew - I was definitely pregnant. As I was driving back to work after the appointment, still in shock, my mother called to tell me that my grandmother had passed away. It's interesting the way that the life cycle works, isn't it? Before I could catch my breath - and before I could say anything about the pregnancy to anyone, including my husband, I was whisked off on a red-eye flight to Florida to help with funeral arrangements and to comfort my poor grandpa. (My grandparents were married for a whopping 68 years, but my grandmother was a very sick lady, so we're happy that her suffering ended sooner rather than later. It's still never easy though to lose someone you love, is it?)
I had been feeling fine before I left for the east coast, but over the course of the week I was in Florida, morning sickness began to rear it's ugly head. I started to become kind of green around the gills and I kept having to run to the bathroom. Since I was sharing a hotel room with my brother Jeremy, it soon became apparent that I wasn't going to be able to hide the fact that I was pregnant. As soon as I told him, the first words out of his mouth were "I knew it!" He was very excited and I was actually a little relieved to have finally told someone, although I felt guilty that he knew before my husband. The rest of the trip was pretty miserable, especially the flight home. I just kept feeling worse and worse and worse. I ended up having to steal one of the barf bags from the plane to carry with me in my purse, just in case I decided I needed to hurl in my mom's new Infinity G35 on the way home from the airport.
So it was with great relief that I finally got home and was able to tell my husband. Unfortunately, I didn't get to tell him in a special way like I would have liked to. I was so tired from the flight home, and so incredibly nauseous the next morning that I couldn't get out of bed so I just started crying, like a totally hormonal pregnant woman. When he asked what was wrong I sniffled, took a deep breath and said, "We're having a baby." Not the most romantic moment ever, but thankfully, he didn't care - he was thrilled! THANK GOD. Secretly I had been so worried that he would be upset, since this wasn't part of "The Plan" we had decided on, but one look at his smiling face and all my worries went out the window. And as soon as we stopped smiling and hugging one another, I promptly jumped up from the bed and threw up. Ah pregnancy. Ain't it great?
Now trying to get through each day is like trying to climb Mt. Everest. I'm exhausted, nauseous, and totally miserable. I have my first appointment with the OBGYN this Friday and I'm praying that she can give me something so I can stop puking and start enjoying being pregnant. If I can just make it to Friday.... ugh.
Consider yourselves warned - the first few months of pregnancy are a bitch. Being nauseous is bad enough, but being nauseous constantly for WEEKS ON END is the pits. Everything makes me sick - moving around, being too hot, smelling someone's lunch cooking in the microwave -even writing about those things make me want to hurl. All of a sudden, I just get THAT FEELING, you know the twinge in my teeth and the way my mouth starts to water, and I'm lucky to make it to the bathroom in time. I've stopped eating things based on how they taste, it's now all based on how it will taste when it comes back up. Sighhhh - what happened to that healthy pregnant glow? I look like a wrung out dish rag.
It just occurred to me that this is the first time I'm mentioning that we're having a baby. I just found a few weeks ago. One day, on a whim, I decided to take a home pregnancy test. I didn't really think it would come out positive - I mean, my periods have always been irregular and the only symptom I had was incredibly sore boobs. But since I take a bunch of medication that wouldn't be safe for a baby, I though it was better to be safe than sorry. Imagine my surprise when the little pink plus sign showed up on that stick! It took my breath away. I just couldn't believe it - we certainly hadn't been trying (although we also hadn't been using serious birth control either - unless you count the rhythm method as serious. You heard it hear first, ladies - THE RHYTHM METHOD DOESN'T WORK!) I wouldn't totally believe it until I heard it from a doctor, so I made an appointment for the very next day and began to mentally struggle with whether I wanted this EPT test to be wrong or right.
I went to the doctor's the next morning and they confirmed what I think I already knew - I was definitely pregnant. As I was driving back to work after the appointment, still in shock, my mother called to tell me that my grandmother had passed away. It's interesting the way that the life cycle works, isn't it? Before I could catch my breath - and before I could say anything about the pregnancy to anyone, including my husband, I was whisked off on a red-eye flight to Florida to help with funeral arrangements and to comfort my poor grandpa. (My grandparents were married for a whopping 68 years, but my grandmother was a very sick lady, so we're happy that her suffering ended sooner rather than later. It's still never easy though to lose someone you love, is it?)
I had been feeling fine before I left for the east coast, but over the course of the week I was in Florida, morning sickness began to rear it's ugly head. I started to become kind of green around the gills and I kept having to run to the bathroom. Since I was sharing a hotel room with my brother Jeremy, it soon became apparent that I wasn't going to be able to hide the fact that I was pregnant. As soon as I told him, the first words out of his mouth were "I knew it!" He was very excited and I was actually a little relieved to have finally told someone, although I felt guilty that he knew before my husband. The rest of the trip was pretty miserable, especially the flight home. I just kept feeling worse and worse and worse. I ended up having to steal one of the barf bags from the plane to carry with me in my purse, just in case I decided I needed to hurl in my mom's new Infinity G35 on the way home from the airport.
So it was with great relief that I finally got home and was able to tell my husband. Unfortunately, I didn't get to tell him in a special way like I would have liked to. I was so tired from the flight home, and so incredibly nauseous the next morning that I couldn't get out of bed so I just started crying, like a totally hormonal pregnant woman. When he asked what was wrong I sniffled, took a deep breath and said, "We're having a baby." Not the most romantic moment ever, but thankfully, he didn't care - he was thrilled! THANK GOD. Secretly I had been so worried that he would be upset, since this wasn't part of "The Plan" we had decided on, but one look at his smiling face and all my worries went out the window. And as soon as we stopped smiling and hugging one another, I promptly jumped up from the bed and threw up. Ah pregnancy. Ain't it great?
Now trying to get through each day is like trying to climb Mt. Everest. I'm exhausted, nauseous, and totally miserable. I have my first appointment with the OBGYN this Friday and I'm praying that she can give me something so I can stop puking and start enjoying being pregnant. If I can just make it to Friday.... ugh.
Monday, July 12, 2004
Addict
Hello, my name is Stacy and I have become a job board addict.
Everyday I pour over all the major sites - Monster, CareerBuilder, HotJobs, DirectEmployers - always hoping that TODAY will be the day that I find that one perfect job. But unless I suddenly have a burning desire to be a telemarketer, or perhaps take up truck driving, there hasn't been much to get excited about lately. So I console myself by reading all of the ridiculous job descriptions and having a good laugh. You know, the ones that are asking for like 20 years of experience and have a list of qualifications a mile long, but with a pay rate of only $9 per hour and no benefits. Yeah, right. But the sad part is, they WILL find someone who will take that position, even though that $9 per hour will barely even pay for the gas it takes to get there every day. That's the problem with today's job market - we're just THAT desperate.
As the months go by, I find myself considering jobs that I have no business considering, jobs that are light years away from what I want to do just because I'm starting to feel the pressure. Executive secretary? Sure, why not. How hard could it be? Legal assistant? Kinda boring but they get paid fairly well, right? Preschool teacher? Well, no, I still wouldn't do THAT, but let me tell you that I can rationalize applying for almost ANY job these days. I have to keep reminding myself that have until January at my current temporary job (as fabulous as it may be, ha ha), so there's no need to panic just yet. But still I find myself constantly being drawn to those job boards, day in and day out, searching through the posts until my eyes glaze over. How can I not look? What if I miss something? Argggh, I'm hopelessly addicted.
Everyday I pour over all the major sites - Monster, CareerBuilder, HotJobs, DirectEmployers - always hoping that TODAY will be the day that I find that one perfect job. But unless I suddenly have a burning desire to be a telemarketer, or perhaps take up truck driving, there hasn't been much to get excited about lately. So I console myself by reading all of the ridiculous job descriptions and having a good laugh. You know, the ones that are asking for like 20 years of experience and have a list of qualifications a mile long, but with a pay rate of only $9 per hour and no benefits. Yeah, right. But the sad part is, they WILL find someone who will take that position, even though that $9 per hour will barely even pay for the gas it takes to get there every day. That's the problem with today's job market - we're just THAT desperate.
As the months go by, I find myself considering jobs that I have no business considering, jobs that are light years away from what I want to do just because I'm starting to feel the pressure. Executive secretary? Sure, why not. How hard could it be? Legal assistant? Kinda boring but they get paid fairly well, right? Preschool teacher? Well, no, I still wouldn't do THAT, but let me tell you that I can rationalize applying for almost ANY job these days. I have to keep reminding myself that have until January at my current temporary job (as fabulous as it may be, ha ha), so there's no need to panic just yet. But still I find myself constantly being drawn to those job boards, day in and day out, searching through the posts until my eyes glaze over. How can I not look? What if I miss something? Argggh, I'm hopelessly addicted.
Thursday, May 20, 2004
The Hippie in Me
I'm not ashamed to admit - I used to be a full-blown hippie. I realize that my conservative, Republican husband is mortified that I just said that in public, but it's true. I used to dance at Dead shows, eat granola, and wear my stylin' Birkenstocks ALL YEAR ROUND. I even used to smoke a little green and drop some happy tabs (sorry, Mom).
You'd never know it to look at me now, but I was once a free-spirited, wild child. Yeah sure, I still recycle and rock out to "Kacey Jones" when I hear it on the radio, but my hippiness is pretty watered down these days. (Trust me, yours would be too if you married my husband!) However, every once in awhile something happens and the peace lovin' hippy in me comes out of hiding.
Today I was reading the news on the internet (as I often do at my extremely boring job), and I came across the article US Targets Iraqi Wedding Party. 40+ people were killed and the majority of them were women and children. Of course, the US says that particular area was a hot spot for Iraqi "insurgents", and they'll probably say that there was enemy fire first, but we all know that's total bullshit. (At least, I HOPE you know that's bullshit.) And as more pictures showing our abuse of the Iraqi prisoners continue to surface, I'm finding it harder and harder to be proud that I'm an American.
I realize that I will probably be blasted with angry emails over that last statement, but sadly, it's true. I challenge you to read some of the stories in Riverbend's blog, Baghdad Burning, and not feel like we're doing something TERRIBLY wrong in Iraq. Why is it that I keep hearing about innocent women and children being killed? Aren't they the ones we are over there to "protect and liberate"?
Now, don't get me wrong, I am all for protecting ourselves from terrorists. I was just as horrified when the twin towers fell as the next person. But going over to Iraq and bombing everything in site in hopes that we might get lucky and kill a terrorist is not the answer. What if the situation were reversed, and they had just bombed an American wedding and killed 40 people? Tell me that this country would not be going crazy with rage and yelling for revenge. And yet we expect them to just put down their weapons and give up? Yeah, right.
You'd never know it to look at me now, but I was once a free-spirited, wild child. Yeah sure, I still recycle and rock out to "Kacey Jones" when I hear it on the radio, but my hippiness is pretty watered down these days. (Trust me, yours would be too if you married my husband!) However, every once in awhile something happens and the peace lovin' hippy in me comes out of hiding.
Today I was reading the news on the internet (as I often do at my extremely boring job), and I came across the article US Targets Iraqi Wedding Party. 40+ people were killed and the majority of them were women and children. Of course, the US says that particular area was a hot spot for Iraqi "insurgents", and they'll probably say that there was enemy fire first, but we all know that's total bullshit. (At least, I HOPE you know that's bullshit.) And as more pictures showing our abuse of the Iraqi prisoners continue to surface, I'm finding it harder and harder to be proud that I'm an American.
I realize that I will probably be blasted with angry emails over that last statement, but sadly, it's true. I challenge you to read some of the stories in Riverbend's blog, Baghdad Burning, and not feel like we're doing something TERRIBLY wrong in Iraq. Why is it that I keep hearing about innocent women and children being killed? Aren't they the ones we are over there to "protect and liberate"?
Now, don't get me wrong, I am all for protecting ourselves from terrorists. I was just as horrified when the twin towers fell as the next person. But going over to Iraq and bombing everything in site in hopes that we might get lucky and kill a terrorist is not the answer. What if the situation were reversed, and they had just bombed an American wedding and killed 40 people? Tell me that this country would not be going crazy with rage and yelling for revenge. And yet we expect them to just put down their weapons and give up? Yeah, right.
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
Slave to the Scale
Dieting sucks.
And for those of you who have never had to suffer through the whole torturous dieting experience? I'm sorry, but you suck, too.
Every day is a battle. There's a constant dialogue running through my head - don't eat that cookie, don't drink that beer, don't even look at that Ben & Jerrys or it will spontaneously glob onto your thighs. It's enough to drive a person crazy.
I realize I'm not obese, but when you're five foot one, a few extra pounds really show. And it doesn't take long before those few extra pounds become more than a few, and you start to look like a squirrel with a mouthful of acorns.
As I've said before, I tried the whole low-carb thing (at this point, who hasn't?). After weeks of counting every carb that went into my mouth and losing NOTHING while everyone else around was dropping pound after pound, I finally admitted that I was part of the very small percentage that a low-carb diet won't work for. It figures. So a few weeks ago I decided to go back to the old standard of counting calories and started on the Slimfast Plan. Five pounds came off slowly but surely, and I was pretty darn proud of myself - until this past weekend when I sort of fell off the wagon.
Jun's death brought out a whole host of emotions I never knew I had in me, and with it came a serious need for comfort food. Lots of it. After a rather large slice of apple pie, some chocolate chip cookies, a piece of greasy Kentucky fried chicken, a "strawberry pizza" with whip cream and tons of sugar, some jalepeno poppers, a Big Mac that I secretly snuck in when my husband was out running errands, and a few beers to drink away my troubles, I shouldn't have been shocked at the reading on the scale Monday morning.
But I was. And now I'm miserable.
I know I shouldn't beat myself up over it. After all, a good friend of mine died for God's sake! But it's still pretty disappointing. And if you had to go to Florida in less than two weeks and face your Grandmother, Slave to the Scale, who will "tsk, tsk" when she sees you and comment endlessly on every pound that you need to lose, you'd be bumming, too.
And for those of you who have never had to suffer through the whole torturous dieting experience? I'm sorry, but you suck, too.
Every day is a battle. There's a constant dialogue running through my head - don't eat that cookie, don't drink that beer, don't even look at that Ben & Jerrys or it will spontaneously glob onto your thighs. It's enough to drive a person crazy.
I realize I'm not obese, but when you're five foot one, a few extra pounds really show. And it doesn't take long before those few extra pounds become more than a few, and you start to look like a squirrel with a mouthful of acorns.
As I've said before, I tried the whole low-carb thing (at this point, who hasn't?). After weeks of counting every carb that went into my mouth and losing NOTHING while everyone else around was dropping pound after pound, I finally admitted that I was part of the very small percentage that a low-carb diet won't work for. It figures. So a few weeks ago I decided to go back to the old standard of counting calories and started on the Slimfast Plan. Five pounds came off slowly but surely, and I was pretty darn proud of myself - until this past weekend when I sort of fell off the wagon.
Jun's death brought out a whole host of emotions I never knew I had in me, and with it came a serious need for comfort food. Lots of it. After a rather large slice of apple pie, some chocolate chip cookies, a piece of greasy Kentucky fried chicken, a "strawberry pizza" with whip cream and tons of sugar, some jalepeno poppers, a Big Mac that I secretly snuck in when my husband was out running errands, and a few beers to drink away my troubles, I shouldn't have been shocked at the reading on the scale Monday morning.
But I was. And now I'm miserable.
I know I shouldn't beat myself up over it. After all, a good friend of mine died for God's sake! But it's still pretty disappointing. And if you had to go to Florida in less than two weeks and face your Grandmother, Slave to the Scale, who will "tsk, tsk" when she sees you and comment endlessly on every pound that you need to lose, you'd be bumming, too.
Tuesday, May 11, 2004
The End of the Road
Sunday afternoon, our very close friend, Jun Huh, died in a motorcycle accident. My husband and I were the first to hear the news from the coroner's office, because when they had gone to Jun's house to try and find his parent's contact information, they found our wedding invitation on his refridgerator. Hoby's aunt works for the coroner, so when she heard that they had found our invitation, she called us right away. Imagine having to tell his mother that her son died on Mother's Day. Not that there would ever be a GOOD day to get that sort of news, but somehow that just makes it seem so much worse.
I've never had any of my close friends die. When I first heard that Jun was dead, I didn't believe it. Not Jun! We were just with him the other day, eating sushi and talking about a girl he's interested in. We had made plans to throw a party together this summer. He can't possibly be gone! Any minute now he's going to come walking through that door and say it was all a big mistake.
Then after the disbelief came the anger. Why the hell was he still riding that stupid motorcycle? Hadn't he learned his lesson when he got into an accident last time? The guy always drove like a maniac. We had all warned him and told him to get rid of that damn bike! Why oh why didn't he listen? It's almost like he had a death wish all along.
And now that the rage has subsided, there's only an aching sadness left. And the tears. Lots of them.
I know this sounds like a cliche, but he was still so young. His life got cut short before he had found out what his purpose for being here was, before he finally met "The One" and settled down, and before he had the children I always knew he'd be so good with. Since I heard the news, memories of Jun have been randomly surfacing and playing in my mind like an old home movie. And now I'll never know how it was supposed to end.
Oh Jun Bug, I hope you know how much we loved you and how much you'll be missed. Things won't be the same without you.
I've never had any of my close friends die. When I first heard that Jun was dead, I didn't believe it. Not Jun! We were just with him the other day, eating sushi and talking about a girl he's interested in. We had made plans to throw a party together this summer. He can't possibly be gone! Any minute now he's going to come walking through that door and say it was all a big mistake.
Then after the disbelief came the anger. Why the hell was he still riding that stupid motorcycle? Hadn't he learned his lesson when he got into an accident last time? The guy always drove like a maniac. We had all warned him and told him to get rid of that damn bike! Why oh why didn't he listen? It's almost like he had a death wish all along.
And now that the rage has subsided, there's only an aching sadness left. And the tears. Lots of them.
I know this sounds like a cliche, but he was still so young. His life got cut short before he had found out what his purpose for being here was, before he finally met "The One" and settled down, and before he had the children I always knew he'd be so good with. Since I heard the news, memories of Jun have been randomly surfacing and playing in my mind like an old home movie. And now I'll never know how it was supposed to end.
Oh Jun Bug, I hope you know how much we loved you and how much you'll be missed. Things won't be the same without you.
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
The Gun Lady
There's this lady in my office that I get a real kick out of. She used to be a policeman (or is it police-woman these days? Who the hell knows anymore.) She's one of those loud mouth, Dr. Laura-loving Republicans who probably belongs to the NRA and loves to tell you how the Liberals have screwed up the country. She looks innocent enough, but don't be fooled. This woman could kick some serious ass.
This lady - let's just refer to her as The Gun Lady - loves her firearms and isn't afraid to use them. It's become sort of a running joke in the office to count the number of times she refers to wanting to shoot someone/something during the course of the day. It pops up so much in her converstations that I couldn't help but start keeping track, and so the Daily Gun Tally was born. Today's tally is only at 2 so far - a child molestor she heard about on the news ("I'd shoot him in the right in the balls!") and the guy who gave her grief at the supermarket ("I'd shoot the tires out of his parking-place stealiin' beemer!"). Yup, what a world it would be if only The Gun Lady could do her thing! Don't worry - she's not some psycho who's on the verge of going postal - it's all in good fun. But let's just say I'm certainly glad she's on my side. When I finally get a real job and get out of this place, I'll definitely be keeping her number.
This lady - let's just refer to her as The Gun Lady - loves her firearms and isn't afraid to use them. It's become sort of a running joke in the office to count the number of times she refers to wanting to shoot someone/something during the course of the day. It pops up so much in her converstations that I couldn't help but start keeping track, and so the Daily Gun Tally was born. Today's tally is only at 2 so far - a child molestor she heard about on the news ("I'd shoot him in the right in the balls!") and the guy who gave her grief at the supermarket ("I'd shoot the tires out of his parking-place stealiin' beemer!"). Yup, what a world it would be if only The Gun Lady could do her thing! Don't worry - she's not some psycho who's on the verge of going postal - it's all in good fun. But let's just say I'm certainly glad she's on my side. When I finally get a real job and get out of this place, I'll definitely be keeping her number.
Friday, April 16, 2004
That Friday Feeling
It's funny how Friday feels so different from the rest of the week. Just knowing that you're about to get released from work for two days of freedom puts a certain energy into the air, and you can see it in people's faces. Of course, being me, I'm already envisioning all the things I need to get done over the weekend - clean the kitchen floor, dust the house, vacuum, etc. I'm trying hard to distract myself from the growing "To Do" list in my head and focus on just enjoying that Friday feeling.
The week went well enough - we were super busy at work so the time flew by, and I certainly have no complaints about that. But I'm noticing that I'm so tired when I get home that I just want to drop down on the couch and watch t.v. I'm becoming such a couch potato! I know that I've put on a few pounds and I'd be lying if I said it isn't on my mind constantly. I want to lose about 5-10 pounds, which really isn't that much, but for some reason I just can't get motivated to do anything about it. Why can't there just be a magic pill for this? Dieting sucks. As soon as I even think the word "diet", my body starts to take on water as if it's preparing for a drought.
I tried the Atkins Diet for a week or two and didn't see any quick results, so I gave up on that. I was on a walking kick for awhile with my fancy new pedometer, but that seems to have died out as well. And it's really hard to get my butt to the gym when I don't have a partner expecting me to show up. But somehow I've got to find SOMETHING that I can stick to that works, because it's eating me up inside. Every time I look in the mirror, I see this chubby, round face staring back at me and it makes me hate myself. I feel so unattractive and I'm so AWARE of every roll of fat on my body. There's got to be something I can do - and I need to figure it out quick.
The week went well enough - we were super busy at work so the time flew by, and I certainly have no complaints about that. But I'm noticing that I'm so tired when I get home that I just want to drop down on the couch and watch t.v. I'm becoming such a couch potato! I know that I've put on a few pounds and I'd be lying if I said it isn't on my mind constantly. I want to lose about 5-10 pounds, which really isn't that much, but for some reason I just can't get motivated to do anything about it. Why can't there just be a magic pill for this? Dieting sucks. As soon as I even think the word "diet", my body starts to take on water as if it's preparing for a drought.
I tried the Atkins Diet for a week or two and didn't see any quick results, so I gave up on that. I was on a walking kick for awhile with my fancy new pedometer, but that seems to have died out as well. And it's really hard to get my butt to the gym when I don't have a partner expecting me to show up. But somehow I've got to find SOMETHING that I can stick to that works, because it's eating me up inside. Every time I look in the mirror, I see this chubby, round face staring back at me and it makes me hate myself. I feel so unattractive and I'm so AWARE of every roll of fat on my body. There's got to be something I can do - and I need to figure it out quick.
Thursday, April 08, 2004
A Little Background
Before you start reading, I should warn you - I'm nobody special. Don't expect to read about any wild adventures like hiking through the rainforests or going on tour with a band and partying my way across the country. The biggest excitement in my life right now is who's going to get kicked off next on American Idol. I'm just your average 28 year old newlywed who's still trying to figure out what my purpose in life is.
Here's a little background:
I was raised in an upper middle class home, and did all the things that were expected of me. I got decent grades in high school, went to a decent college, got the typical bullshit degree - all the while thinking that at soon as I got out of school, the world would be mine for the taking. I was never raised with the idea that I might not be successful, it was just a given that everything would naturally fall into place as long as I stayed on the right track.
At the end of my four years at college, I graduated with honors and unlike the rest of my friends, I got a job immediately. I can remember being so excited about all the possibilities that life had to offer and feeling ready to take on the world. That was 6 years ago.
As you might have guessed, things have not exactly gone the way I thought they would. My first job? I worked on a Disney cruise ship, which was great for awhile (kinda like an extension of college, really), but I burned out after a year of being perpetually perky in that Disney kind of way. My second job was supposedly as a "vacation planner", but that was really just a fancy way of saying that I worked at a call center answering phones all day and trying to get people blow their life's savings on grossly overpriced tickets to the theme parks. Definitely not for me. Then I tried working at a print shop, then a software training company, then a publishing company, then...well, you get the idea. A decent string of jobs, but nothing that ever made me feel like I had found "my calling".
I quit my last job about a month and a half ago and am now working as a temp, which at this particular company means that I'm lower than the common secretary. A grunt, really. The work is completely mindless (think making binder tabs and stapling papers), and while it has the benefit of not being stressful - definitely a nice change from my last job - it makes me feel like I'm wasting my life.
But the question is, what DO I want to do with my life? What will make me happy? I know people pay thousands of dollars in therapy bills to answer that question but it would be nice (and much more cost effective) if I could figure it out on my own. I'm sure I'm not alone in wanting to have a passion for what I do and feel like I'm actually a contributing member of society. But how many of us really ever find a job like that? Probably only a lucky few - and I can assure that I have NEVER been a member of that group. So maybe I just have to suck it up and take one of those shitty, mind-numbing jobs that pay next to nothing because those are the only ones that seem to be out there. Maybe that's part of being a "grown-up" - and now that I'm married, that's what I have to be, right? Dear God, let's hope not.
Here's a little background:
I was raised in an upper middle class home, and did all the things that were expected of me. I got decent grades in high school, went to a decent college, got the typical bullshit degree - all the while thinking that at soon as I got out of school, the world would be mine for the taking. I was never raised with the idea that I might not be successful, it was just a given that everything would naturally fall into place as long as I stayed on the right track.
At the end of my four years at college, I graduated with honors and unlike the rest of my friends, I got a job immediately. I can remember being so excited about all the possibilities that life had to offer and feeling ready to take on the world. That was 6 years ago.
As you might have guessed, things have not exactly gone the way I thought they would. My first job? I worked on a Disney cruise ship, which was great for awhile (kinda like an extension of college, really), but I burned out after a year of being perpetually perky in that Disney kind of way. My second job was supposedly as a "vacation planner", but that was really just a fancy way of saying that I worked at a call center answering phones all day and trying to get people blow their life's savings on grossly overpriced tickets to the theme parks. Definitely not for me. Then I tried working at a print shop, then a software training company, then a publishing company, then...well, you get the idea. A decent string of jobs, but nothing that ever made me feel like I had found "my calling".
I quit my last job about a month and a half ago and am now working as a temp, which at this particular company means that I'm lower than the common secretary. A grunt, really. The work is completely mindless (think making binder tabs and stapling papers), and while it has the benefit of not being stressful - definitely a nice change from my last job - it makes me feel like I'm wasting my life.
But the question is, what DO I want to do with my life? What will make me happy? I know people pay thousands of dollars in therapy bills to answer that question but it would be nice (and much more cost effective) if I could figure it out on my own. I'm sure I'm not alone in wanting to have a passion for what I do and feel like I'm actually a contributing member of society. But how many of us really ever find a job like that? Probably only a lucky few - and I can assure that I have NEVER been a member of that group. So maybe I just have to suck it up and take one of those shitty, mind-numbing jobs that pay next to nothing because those are the only ones that seem to be out there. Maybe that's part of being a "grown-up" - and now that I'm married, that's what I have to be, right? Dear God, let's hope not.
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