Milestones

Learning to live with the fact that I am not the size of a supermodel, nor will I ever be, has been a constant struggle in my life. I can blame it on a lot of things - watching my mother diet all of my life, believing she only finds me worthy if and when I'm thin, watching my size 4 sister eat whatever she wants and not gain an ounce. But it really is my fault. I have been ashamed of my body for as long as I can remember - even when I was thin, as pictures prove. Strange, isn't it, how powerful your psyche can be?

The milestone I hit last Friday was seeing 200 lbs on the scale.

I've been telling a lot of people, mostly close friends, to erase the power of that number. It's working for the most part. I've been to my doctor to talk about the fact that I have gained about 20 pounds over the past 6 months and want to rule out any medical issues. She was less than helpful, pretty much telling me that I'm eating too much. I am being tested for thyroid problems, celiac disease, and blood sugar issues, so we'll see how that turns out. I'm off dairy for a couple of weeks to try and get a handle on the IBS, and may try a gluten-free diet as well if the "cow free zone" doesn't do anything. She also went so far as to suggest weight loss medication. When I expressed some surprise that I'd be a candidate, seeing as how I'm not morbidly obese, she said to me "well, at 200 lbs, you're well on your way." Gee, thanks, Doc.

I'm also taking matters into my own hands. Still in therapy to deal with my body issues, and that's going well. Going to see a dietician, to devise an eating plan around my strange work hours and my digestive issues. And after the epiphany that plus-size clothing stores start at size 14, of which I belong, I now have some better options for dressing myself in clothes that are actually made for women, not girls. Halleluja. Still working out, and feeling good about that.

That's the good thing about milestones - they are not the end of a journey, they just mark a place.

Spam - it's not just for breakfast anymore

For the last couple of months or so, I've been getting this weird spam in my in-box. The sender is usually a name - not anyone I know - and the subject line is two words. The weird thing is, the two words are totally random and 99.9% of the time, make no sense whatsoever. I don't know what the emails are, since I've never opened one, but I thought it would be fun to share some of the choice subjects and try to guess their cosmic meaning.

Ulterior Apprehend - the motive for tracking someone down, maybe?

Enlightening Remorse - oh, that's why I feel so shitty!

Persuasiveness Artifact - a wily old grandmother?

Stork Estuary - kind of makes sense - I can see a body of water filled with long-legged birds...

Subdue Persecution - OK, I agree with that one ... but I still won't open it.

Savings Bank - Hah! If that isn't a contradition in terms, I don't know what is!

Simple-Minded Proper Noun (sent by Siegfried Wang) - well, I guess that would be Siegfried Wang, wouldn't it?

And my favourite one of all ...

Manure - about says it all, doncha think?

Whut I Learnt On My Summer Vaykayshun

1. Carefully, thoroughly, and concisely figure out how much alcohol is needed for camping trip - then double it. When camping with mother, triple it.

2. Sleeping bags rated to +3 degrees may keep you alive at that temperature, but won't keep you even remotely warm.

3. The word "camping" seems to be synonymous with "eating everything that's not nailed down."

4. Don't be fooled by 4 year old who says she wants s'mores. Especially when she says she doesn't want the graham cracker part. Or the chocolate part. Or the cooked part. She's just jonesing for marshmallows.

5. When a man says he's going fishing "for a little while," understand that time apparently stops while on board a fishing boat. It's sucked into the same vortex that manages to consume the half sack of beer that also disappears.

6. Motorhomes that look like mobile homes with steering wheels on a sunny day feel more like small walk-in closets when it's raining. Especially when they're occupied by a whiny 4 year old, a whiny 2 year old, and my mother. See Lesson #1.

7. No matter how many times you wash them, no matter how many times you go swimming, feet will stay dusty and dirty for the entire duration of the camping trip. Learn to deal, or wear galoshes the whole time. Even in the sleeping bag.

Ciao for now!

Wow, way too busy at work this week to slack off. How annoying.

Plus dealing with the Client From Hell, who, now that her damn project is done, can kiss my left cheek. Muah!

Off work for two weeks, so I'm not sure if I'll be posting here or not.

The world needs a break from my incessant ramblings anyway.

TTFN!