What's up Kroger/QFC?
As a member of the growing group of people whose bodies reject everything delicious I have a lot of dietary restrictions and allergies that force me to buy certain foods. Fancy foods. It's the worst. And while you guys have never been my favorite place to shop (too few choices and too expensive) you were close to my house & work and the employees are always nice. Plus when a girl needs chocolate...
First you stopped carrying my bread (ener-g AND food for life) and then my crackers (blue diamond nut thins). I bought waffles (Van's) the other day and they're all crumbly and falling apart (and yes, I'll also be e-mailing them because that's what I do. No I'm not 90 I just like to complain). Your choice of trail mix has gone downhill and my only options now have ingredients I'm allergic to (thanks for ruining everything barley!). My choices of mayos, cream cheeses and anything else vegan are super expensive and limited.
For a store that seems to cater to a more elite clientele (or at least one that is dumb enough to spend extra money for the same thing they could get at Winco or New Seasons) I'm surprised QFC/Kroger would choose to stop carrying products seemingly designed for people that change their diets on a whim based solely on what Oprah tells them. Though I suppose with her off the air it's Dr Oz they're listening to now. He is pretty dreamy. For an old guy.
I'm sure you've stopped carrying these items because I was the only one buying them and since I stopped shopping there when I switched jobs you decided it was time to move on with your choices and replace my reasonably priced GF and vegan nut thins with weird lentil crackers that have milk cream listed as one of the ingredients and cost $5 a box. No thank you QFC.
I didn't plan on shopping at QFC anymore because it's too rich for my blood but now I can't even justify going there for convenience. But when it's 11pm and I desperately need chocolate I'll probably still come in. And baby Jesus help you if it's not on sale QFC... I mean it.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Monday, November 7, 2011
I will never be done with this
The second accident offered me $750 today for the damage to my car because the first accident caused too much damage and it will be a salvaged title.
Herein
lies the problem. One. I don’t fucking care if there was prior damage. I got
hit. BY A FUCKING CAR. My own car was
destroyed and based on the damage from this accident (by far the worse of the
two) I was forced to make the decision to buy a new car rather than fix mine.
Two. There is even more damage than just that caused by the original impact.
The door has to be SLAMMED HARD to shut properly and as a result the window and
speaker have stopped working. Three. Punitive damages. I have never been so
stressed or poorly treated in my life. By anyone. Ever. I had to initiate every
form of contact until the two most recent phone calls. I have insomnia, my hair
has started falling out and I have a doctor’s appointment this week to deal
with whatever is happening in my esophagus. I’m guessing some kind of ulcer.
You can’t just HIT SOMEONE WITH A FUCKING CAR and ignore them for months. It’s
not fucking cool. I will not be placated with a mere $750. I demand $4100 to
help fund my purchase of a new car and to alleviate the stress put on me since
the car accident. I refuse to be treated like a nuisance that can be bought off
for a mere percentage of what I am worth. Not to mention my car. Four. In the
time immediately following the accident you were willing to pay for my car to
be fixed completely and now you’re offering me $750? FOUR MONTHS LATER? No.
That’s not a thing you do to someone. That’s not how this works.
$4100 right
now gets me out of your life. $2000 gets me to go away with only a scathing
letter written to print media, the better business bureau and all the higher
ups at your company. $750 gets you my ass raped by my fist. Because I have
nothing to lose except more sleep, more hair and the lining of my esophagus. Also
I’m keeping my car.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Accident number two...
... is almost as shitty as accident number one (get it?).
Yes, booze and exercise are very well and good ways to vent frustration and annoyance. But I write. And in this case I write letters. It tends to get stuff done. It worked with the first accident and now that I've waited three months for something to happen with the second it's time they got one too. It's a difficult task: I want to express my frustration but not sound like a crazy-ass that is one step away from sending anthrax to the office. I need to make shit happen but not piss anyone off so they make it even harder for me to move on with my life. It helps that I like to write, that I fancy myself a good writer (and not in a stupid hipster "I'm a writer but no one understands my vision, that's why I'm still unpublished" kind of way). I'm a writer in that when I'm frustrated or sad or annoyed or excited or happy it helps me to get it on paper. Otherwise it just sits sits sits in my head and leads to insomnia and alcoholism. And that shit runs in my family.
I can't wait for this car stuff to be over and done with. It consumes almost all of my waking life and I honestly don't know what will occupy my thoughts when it's over. When I have a car that all the doors open, the speakers and windows work, the trunk and doors unlock, and the brakes and turn signals light up the night sky then I'll be happy. Then my life will have meaning again. When people don't look at my car and judge me. Because I can see it in their eyes. I recognize it because it's the same look I give when I judge judge judge others based on superficial shit.
Yes, booze and exercise are very well and good ways to vent frustration and annoyance. But I write. And in this case I write letters. It tends to get stuff done. It worked with the first accident and now that I've waited three months for something to happen with the second it's time they got one too. It's a difficult task: I want to express my frustration but not sound like a crazy-ass that is one step away from sending anthrax to the office. I need to make shit happen but not piss anyone off so they make it even harder for me to move on with my life. It helps that I like to write, that I fancy myself a good writer (and not in a stupid hipster "I'm a writer but no one understands my vision, that's why I'm still unpublished" kind of way). I'm a writer in that when I'm frustrated or sad or annoyed or excited or happy it helps me to get it on paper. Otherwise it just sits sits sits in my head and leads to insomnia and alcoholism. And that shit runs in my family.
I can't wait for this car stuff to be over and done with. It consumes almost all of my waking life and I honestly don't know what will occupy my thoughts when it's over. When I have a car that all the doors open, the speakers and windows work, the trunk and doors unlock, and the brakes and turn signals light up the night sky then I'll be happy. Then my life will have meaning again. When people don't look at my car and judge me. Because I can see it in their eyes. I recognize it because it's the same look I give when I judge judge judge others based on superficial shit.
"My name is Nicole Paul and I
was in a car accident in Portland, Oregon on July 21, 2011. There were three
cars involved and I was the last car hit, sitting unsuspecting at the
intersection. The accident was caused by Thomas Klauer, who accepted fault at
the scene. (I looked him up, he's the Sr VP of Schnitzer Steel and thanks to Forbes.com I know he made $1.4 million last year. Just write me a check dude. Please.)
In the
days following the accident I spoke with Gwen W--- who requested I get an
estimate of the damage to my car and e-mail it to her. It took over two months
to find an auto body shop in Portland willing to help due to the extreme damage.
After finding someone to write the estimate, I e-mailed it to Ms W--- who,
after I called to verify receipt, told me to call Brenda S----, the claims
manager for Pick N Pull.
I spoke
to Ms S---- on October 10, 2011 and faxed the estimate along with a stamped
receipt of the car registration per her request. I have since called Ms S---- three times, on October 12th, October 18th and October 21st each time leaving a
message inquiring after the status of my claim; never hearing back if the fax
was received or the information supplied sufficient.
This has
dragged on for too long and after driving around for three months in a car that
is, quite literally, falling apart because of this accident I feel every day
wasted is crucial to my sanity, or any semblance of it I have left.
Thank
you for your speedy resolution to this.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Four months is too many months
This is the letter I will be sending to everyone that works, has ever worked or will ever work for Allstate. The past four months have been my nightmare and I will not give up till I have a check in my hand and the dumb dumb that hit me gets a serious hike in his insurance rates.
"My name is Nicole and I was in a car accident on June 6, 2011 in Beaverton, Oregon: claim no. 020-------. The accident was caused by Shankar K-------- (henceforth referred to as Mr K) who is insured by Allstate. The police were called at his request: no citations were issued & information was exchanged.
Despite the fact that the damage to my car physically and explicitly proves I couldn’t have been going faster than the posted speed limit Mr K insisted I was speeding and hit his car while he was parked on the side of the road. My claim was denied because there were no witnesses other than Mr K’s own passenger. I spoke with my Progressive adjuster Samantha who had proof of liability from her taped conversation with Mr K wherein he accepted fault by saying he was pulling away from the curb and hit my car as I drove by, never mentioning my speed.
Samantha sent the tape to Victoria J------, the Allstate adjustor for my claim, and it was promptly destroyed by her machine. When I contacted Ms J------ she said fault would be placed on Mr K and Allstate would pay for the damage to my car. Unfortunately she failed to document this anywhere. When I faxed the estimate to Ms J------ she was out of the office and my paperwork was denied a second time by a different Allstate employee, filed away in what I can only imagine to be a cavernous Indiana Jones type warehouse.
It has been over four months with no resolution in sight. No one from Allstate ever came to look at my car, I was asked to provide my own estimate, and I have had to make several follow-up phone calls in order to accomplish even the smallest task. I would like the damage to my car to be paid in full as soon as possible so I can put all this nonsense behind me.
Thank you in advance"
"My name is Nicole and I was in a car accident on June 6, 2011 in Beaverton, Oregon: claim no. 020-------. The accident was caused by Shankar K-------- (henceforth referred to as Mr K) who is insured by Allstate. The police were called at his request: no citations were issued & information was exchanged.
Despite the fact that the damage to my car physically and explicitly proves I couldn’t have been going faster than the posted speed limit Mr K insisted I was speeding and hit his car while he was parked on the side of the road. My claim was denied because there were no witnesses other than Mr K’s own passenger. I spoke with my Progressive adjuster Samantha who had proof of liability from her taped conversation with Mr K wherein he accepted fault by saying he was pulling away from the curb and hit my car as I drove by, never mentioning my speed.
Samantha sent the tape to Victoria J------, the Allstate adjustor for my claim, and it was promptly destroyed by her machine. When I contacted Ms J------ she said fault would be placed on Mr K and Allstate would pay for the damage to my car. Unfortunately she failed to document this anywhere. When I faxed the estimate to Ms J------ she was out of the office and my paperwork was denied a second time by a different Allstate employee, filed away in what I can only imagine to be a cavernous Indiana Jones type warehouse.
It has been over four months with no resolution in sight. No one from Allstate ever came to look at my car, I was asked to provide my own estimate, and I have had to make several follow-up phone calls in order to accomplish even the smallest task. I would like the damage to my car to be paid in full as soon as possible so I can put all this nonsense behind me.
Thank you in advance"
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
There's an epidemic at the gym...
...and it is NOT pretty.
I'm not talking about gingers with too many cleavage freckles. I'm not talking about creepy young guys that wear oversize cargo pants. Though why do I feel like everyone terrible in Portland comes to my gym? Ew.
I'm talking about old men. And short shorts. These are two things that should NEVER go together. If I were more clever I'd think of two things that don't go together as an example. But I'm not. It's a shame really. You can think of something that doesn't go as a pair on your own. No, not those two, they're delicious together and you know it.
Back to the gym. There's this one guy in particular: I call him Short-Shorts. See, told you I'm not that clever. Guess what he does. Other than gross me out by wearing the same pair of super short work out shorts every day, not much of anything. Tonight at the gym? Two more men in hot pant caliber shorts. It's too much. They must see us look at them. The ole up and down with the eyes move? I know I'm not good at hiding my facial expressions. I'm very clearly rolling my eyes and trying not to laugh when I walk by. Also when I see something really bad I kind of stop breathing for a little while. It's weird, I'm not gonna lie. Maybe (probably) they think I have some kind of emotional problem. Maybe they don't get the connection. Maybe they think I'm trying to flirt with them. Guess what, I laugh at everything okay, get over yourself.
But this isn't about me. This is about the gross old men and their ridiculously hairy thighs. That is serious intel I should NOT have on multiple men that frequent my gym. They can't possibly think they look good. Do they? They can't possibly be comfortable. Short-Shorts is almost constantly tug tug tugging on the hem of his shorts in a clearly vain attempt at humility. They have something that'll solve that problem for you champ: they're called pants. Figure it out.
I'm not talking about gingers with too many cleavage freckles. I'm not talking about creepy young guys that wear oversize cargo pants. Though why do I feel like everyone terrible in Portland comes to my gym? Ew.
I'm talking about old men. And short shorts. These are two things that should NEVER go together. If I were more clever I'd think of two things that don't go together as an example. But I'm not. It's a shame really. You can think of something that doesn't go as a pair on your own. No, not those two, they're delicious together and you know it.
Back to the gym. There's this one guy in particular: I call him Short-Shorts. See, told you I'm not that clever. Guess what he does. Other than gross me out by wearing the same pair of super short work out shorts every day, not much of anything. Tonight at the gym? Two more men in hot pant caliber shorts. It's too much. They must see us look at them. The ole up and down with the eyes move? I know I'm not good at hiding my facial expressions. I'm very clearly rolling my eyes and trying not to laugh when I walk by. Also when I see something really bad I kind of stop breathing for a little while. It's weird, I'm not gonna lie. Maybe (probably) they think I have some kind of emotional problem. Maybe they don't get the connection. Maybe they think I'm trying to flirt with them. Guess what, I laugh at everything okay, get over yourself.
But this isn't about me. This is about the gross old men and their ridiculously hairy thighs. That is serious intel I should NOT have on multiple men that frequent my gym. They can't possibly think they look good. Do they? They can't possibly be comfortable. Short-Shorts is almost constantly tug tug tugging on the hem of his shorts in a clearly vain attempt at humility. They have something that'll solve that problem for you champ: they're called pants. Figure it out.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Insomnia isn't always a Robin Williams chucklefest
Right now it's only 10:30 and that hardly counts as insomnia. But for the past week (and most of my life) I've had difficulty sleeping. Difficulty falling asleep, difficulty staying asleep, it all sucks and leaves me exhausted. Last week I was on steroids for my sore throat which causes insomnia even though I was supposed to be sleeping and trying to get better. I feel better now (thanks drugs) but still have a feeling I won't be able to fall asleep.
Some might claim it's that I leave the TV on. But if I don't watch Simpsons and Futurama over and over and over, who will I ask? The communists? I think not. And when I try to sleep in pitch black silence all I can hear is my brain and that is not something I want to listen to. I hear about my car, my job, my finances, my living situation, boys I like, my weight, my diet, my past, my future, my insecurities. It's the worst. So I watch TV instead. But sometimes even Bart's shenanigans and Bender's burps can't drown out my crazy.
Like right now. I'm so very very tired from leaving the house today (for the first time in a week and a half that wasn't the doctor's office or grocery store). Four whole hours I spent walking around. My legs are sore right now, that's how sedentary I've been for the past 10 days. The good news is I have a fancy dress outfit (right down to the accessories) for my little brother's wedding next month. So now I lie awake and think about my complexion and my tan lines my hair and again my weight. I want to sleep and not worry about anything but instead I worry about everything. I know I'm not alone in this and for me writing gets the crazy out of my head and into the interwebs where no one will ever see it and it can't harm anyone. I assume.
So hopefully whatever I just took will kick in soon and I can shut it down. At least for a while.
Some might claim it's that I leave the TV on. But if I don't watch Simpsons and Futurama over and over and over, who will I ask? The communists? I think not. And when I try to sleep in pitch black silence all I can hear is my brain and that is not something I want to listen to. I hear about my car, my job, my finances, my living situation, boys I like, my weight, my diet, my past, my future, my insecurities. It's the worst. So I watch TV instead. But sometimes even Bart's shenanigans and Bender's burps can't drown out my crazy.
Like right now. I'm so very very tired from leaving the house today (for the first time in a week and a half that wasn't the doctor's office or grocery store). Four whole hours I spent walking around. My legs are sore right now, that's how sedentary I've been for the past 10 days. The good news is I have a fancy dress outfit (right down to the accessories) for my little brother's wedding next month. So now I lie awake and think about my complexion and my tan lines my hair and again my weight. I want to sleep and not worry about anything but instead I worry about everything. I know I'm not alone in this and for me writing gets the crazy out of my head and into the interwebs where no one will ever see it and it can't harm anyone. I assume.
So hopefully whatever I just took will kick in soon and I can shut it down. At least for a while.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
I'm living a Wayne's World quote
Only it's actually the opposite of the quote. Does that make sense? No? Too bad. You need to be hopped up on a multitude of drugs and exhausted but unable to sleep thanks to one of the side effects of said drugs. (Thanks PREDNISONE you can suck it!) What's the quote you ask?
"I once thought I had mono for an entire year, it turned out I was just really bored."
For the last couple weeks I have NOT wanted to go to the gym. I've been fine seeing friends and working but my heart was not in it when it was time for stupid cardio. When I did go it was lackluster and while I was sweating a lot I'm now fairly certain that it was totally the humidity. I chalked it up to boredom and a little sadness cause my actual friends and gym friends had either left or changed schedules and I didn't know anyone except all the people I stare at and judge constantly. And they're fun for a while but again, I'm easily bored so the novelty didn't last.
It turns out I wasn't just bored. I have mono. Awesome. When I read up on it and the "incubation time" (that makes me want to watch some Aliens (GAME OVER MAN!)) before symptoms appear (in my case an insanely vengeful sore throat and swollen lymph nodes) is 6 weeks from exposure. I do believe that leaves me somewhere in the Alaskan wilderness. I did let my germophobe guard down while there: sharing glasses and the like. Hey, it was ALASKA! Oh well. I still stand by the fact that it was an amazing vacation, even if it did leave me with a severely painful and lasting impression. It could have been sweat at the gym or even that hobo I let cry in my mouth, but I guess we'll never really know for sure.
Side note: Because I like to research things, especially when they make me feel crap crap crappy, I learned that 90-95% of adults have been exposed to mono. So yay I'm in like the biggest, stupidest club on the planet now! And the best part? Epstein-Barr virus, the cause of infectious mononucleosis, is totally in the herpes family. So they're right: what happens in Alaska (or Vegas I guess) stays in Alaska. Except for herpes. That shit'll follow you home.
"I once thought I had mono for an entire year, it turned out I was just really bored."
For the last couple weeks I have NOT wanted to go to the gym. I've been fine seeing friends and working but my heart was not in it when it was time for stupid cardio. When I did go it was lackluster and while I was sweating a lot I'm now fairly certain that it was totally the humidity. I chalked it up to boredom and a little sadness cause my actual friends and gym friends had either left or changed schedules and I didn't know anyone except all the people I stare at and judge constantly. And they're fun for a while but again, I'm easily bored so the novelty didn't last.
It turns out I wasn't just bored. I have mono. Awesome. When I read up on it and the "incubation time" (that makes me want to watch some Aliens (GAME OVER MAN!)) before symptoms appear (in my case an insanely vengeful sore throat and swollen lymph nodes) is 6 weeks from exposure. I do believe that leaves me somewhere in the Alaskan wilderness. I did let my germophobe guard down while there: sharing glasses and the like. Hey, it was ALASKA! Oh well. I still stand by the fact that it was an amazing vacation, even if it did leave me with a severely painful and lasting impression. It could have been sweat at the gym or even that hobo I let cry in my mouth, but I guess we'll never really know for sure.
Side note: Because I like to research things, especially when they make me feel crap crap crappy, I learned that 90-95% of adults have been exposed to mono. So yay I'm in like the biggest, stupidest club on the planet now! And the best part? Epstein-Barr virus, the cause of infectious mononucleosis, is totally in the herpes family. So they're right: what happens in Alaska (or Vegas I guess) stays in Alaska. Except for herpes. That shit'll follow you home.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Fun is F.U.N.
But it definitely doesn't help a girl lose weight.
I gained another 2 pounds. Which puts me squarely at 177.whatever pounds. Which means these last 10 pounds are going to be my arch nemesis. I can already tell. I've been sweating a LOT at the gym this week but I think it might just be the humidity. But it does give me that smug sense of self satisfaction I so very much enjoy. I also get that same sense when I find a really good happy hour or get a shot (or many) purchased for me so all those days I skipped the gym last week for friends and drinking? Totally worth it. I have too much fun in the summer and after giving up friends, family and booze for a year I don't want to do it again. Not yet. I'm not ready.
The main reason I'm not ready to give up my life for the gym is that the gym is BORING and I hate boring. Seriously it's the worst. So I skipped for a while and had too much fun. Drank most of my calories anyway so it was all fine. It's science.
I finally started going again and yesterday (on the future machine of course) I was staring and judging (my two favorite things to do there) and all my besties were there: Steroids and his girlfriend, the scary ginger girl with a severe muffin top, crazy mullet woman (she AND her mullet are crazy), tiny tattooed guy, the two Korean men (I think they're "just friends"), Jessie from the Biggest Loser (my gym's totally famous no big deal). And I realized (after freaking 16 months at the same gym) that if I have been staring and judging all this time are THEY staring at me and judging? What's my nickname? Do they think, oh there's that girl who burps too much, talks to herself and makes weird faces all the time. What the hell is her problem? Why are her shirts on inside out and is that a chocolate stain? Cause yeah, that's me.
I can't very well walk up to Paperwork or Short-Shorts and ask them if I have a nickname. I did walk up to one of the trainers to inform him that he'd shaved his beard and that he didn't really resemble the nickname I'd given him anymore. PS it was Johnny Surfer. Clean shaven he looked more like Johnny Straightedge. Bo-ring.
But most people don't do stuff like that. I think.
I gained another 2 pounds. Which puts me squarely at 177.whatever pounds. Which means these last 10 pounds are going to be my arch nemesis. I can already tell. I've been sweating a LOT at the gym this week but I think it might just be the humidity. But it does give me that smug sense of self satisfaction I so very much enjoy. I also get that same sense when I find a really good happy hour or get a shot (or many) purchased for me so all those days I skipped the gym last week for friends and drinking? Totally worth it. I have too much fun in the summer and after giving up friends, family and booze for a year I don't want to do it again. Not yet. I'm not ready.
The main reason I'm not ready to give up my life for the gym is that the gym is BORING and I hate boring. Seriously it's the worst. So I skipped for a while and had too much fun. Drank most of my calories anyway so it was all fine. It's science.
I finally started going again and yesterday (on the future machine of course) I was staring and judging (my two favorite things to do there) and all my besties were there: Steroids and his girlfriend, the scary ginger girl with a severe muffin top, crazy mullet woman (she AND her mullet are crazy), tiny tattooed guy, the two Korean men (I think they're "just friends"), Jessie from the Biggest Loser (my gym's totally famous no big deal). And I realized (after freaking 16 months at the same gym) that if I have been staring and judging all this time are THEY staring at me and judging? What's my nickname? Do they think, oh there's that girl who burps too much, talks to herself and makes weird faces all the time. What the hell is her problem? Why are her shirts on inside out and is that a chocolate stain? Cause yeah, that's me.
I can't very well walk up to Paperwork or Short-Shorts and ask them if I have a nickname. I did walk up to one of the trainers to inform him that he'd shaved his beard and that he didn't really resemble the nickname I'd given him anymore. PS it was Johnny Surfer. Clean shaven he looked more like Johnny Straightedge. Bo-ring.
But most people don't do stuff like that. I think.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
My particular brand of crazy = extra crazy
Part three:
The other questions were basic but still so much fun to answer (and I was rating how much I like these things on a scale of 1 (loathe) to 10 (lurve):
Running errands irresponsibly and often
7, I like being able to say "crap I forgot cotton balls at Target" and going to get them but I also hate traffic, crowds and spending money. So if I was forced to live without something because I couldn't conveniently get it, I'd be okay with that. Resourcefulness!
Carrying purchases 5-10 blocks
5, because I've never done it I don't know. I imagine I'd look pretty awesome pushing a crazy old person cart down the street though. Maybe get some cats to hang out the sides.
How much money do you spend on your insurance and gas per month?
I spend $50 on insurance and about $160 on gas a month. Not to mention the emotional cost of all these accidents (since none have been my fault there’s no payout on my end) and the ulcer I’m growing on account of the almost constant road rage (seriously if I never see another bicyclist I’ll be happy; no one knows how to drive around them- slamming on your brakes is a wonderful idea dumb dumb!). And if I got a new car I would have a car payment again, probably upwards of $150 (GROSS!!!). And while the car would be slightly nicer and gas would go down because of non-16-year-old mileage, the insurance would most likely go up and it would be a wash.
So I’m hoping that this writing is helping my crazy run its course. For the most part I just want to be drunk or sleep all day long. Or both. That could be the PMS talking but I've felt that way for a while now. I blame all the car accidents and the fact that I want to move out of my house so badly I'd be willing to kill a man. Well, not really. Maybe punch a man in the throat. Or a really ugly baby. It’d have to be pretty ugly though. Le sigh. I don't like being stressed! It doesn't suit me at ALL. My sarcasm gets more and more sardonic and scornful.
Though when I think about it, that totally does suit me.
Though when I think about it, that totally does suit me.
My particular brand of crazy = extra crazy
Part two:
My life seems to moves at two speeds: super fast, blasting across the alkali flats in a jet powered, monkey navigated... it goes on like that (also, that's a Simpsons quote) or nothing happens ever and I get annoyed and bored. For weeks Insurance Company A (and then B) was doing nothing and then BAM both told me to get estimates and “they wouldn’t have a problem paying me.” Right. Again, the pessimist knows what’s coming.
Last week I went to different body shops and no one would give me an estimate because my car is totaled. Twice. The guy at Kuni said I should call Insurance Company A and tell them about both accidents and just be straight with them. And I was like fuck you, I'm going to get fucked over if I do that. (I didn't say the first part out loud (cause that’s mean) but I did say the second part (swearing is how I make friends)). He instead started telling me how nice the new BMWs are and that they have warranties and all this BS and bitch please, you think I drive a 1995 piece of crap that sounds like a freight train with tape over the check engine light, doors that don't lock (and one that's stuck shut), giant dents in either side, a turn signal that falls out if I go over speed bumps too fast that I can’t take through the car wash because the inside fills with water because I have a duffel bag full of cash in the trunk that doesn't open? Fuck you again and again.
Anyway.
There are so many options and variables and unknowns floating around my head and occupying my every thought. What if I don’t get any money and I’m stuck with a worthless (twice) car? What if I somehow manage to get both insurance companies to (rightly) pay for repairs? Do I keep my car (if A or B don’t take it in the process)? Do I get a new one? Do I go without a vehicle (which I’ve never done before)? Again, there’s all that crazy. So my friend Elyse, who used to be my gym buddy until she defected to North Carolina, came up with a handy quiz (which appeals to the part of me that still wishes I could read Seventeen magazine quizzes that will tell me if the boy in my math class really does like me. SPOILER ALERT: he doesn’t) to help me decide what I want to do, regardless of any other factors. One of the questions made me laugh and laugh and laugh. It’s a completely reasonable question but one that is truly… well, laughable. So here it is, reprinted with my permission.
Do you see your car as a status symbol?
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Totally legit question, but if you saw my car right now... oh lawdy. I was downtown the other night and since my car won't lock (or rather unlock so I can't lock it) I like to make it look as terrible as possible to deter possible thieves or ran sackers (though there’s nothing of value to steal now that my beer tokens were taken), with dents on both sides it's not hard to do, but I pull out the turn signal just for good measure and this guy saw me and started laughing. I explained (summed up) and he just laughed harder and was like "maybe they'll take pity and leave a twenty in there for you." It was... pretty hilarious. So short answer long... no. No I don't.
Also nobody left me a twenty.
My particular brand of crazy = extra crazy
Part one:
I’m a Paul, a woman, a Virgo and pretty bat-shit crazy. That is an almost lethal combination of ridiculous. I obsessively think about everything. Worrying about things I can’t change, planning and plotting the things I can, lying wide awake at night replaying conversations in my brain - both good and bad. It’s a mildly psychopathic existence, I’m not gonna lie.
With all this crazy floating around my head I was surprised that getting into a car accident two months ago (my first one ever thank you very much) was not as traumatizing (at the time) as I would have thought. The guy was a dick but it wasn’t my fault so my optimistic side wanted to believe everything was going to work out fine. My pessimistic side (the one that’s usually right) was already figuring out all the ways I was going to get screwed over. Cut to two months later and we can all guess which side was on the money (and I’m totally using that term derisively).
Three weeks ago I got into another accident that was also not my fault- this time I wasn’t even moving, just sitting in my car watching the scene unfold before me. Again my inner pessimist knew the score and all I could do was drink copious amounts of beer to get her to shut up. Two bottles alone during the phone call to my insurance company. That’s my MO most of the time regardless so what the hell.
Detox blows anyway.
Monday, August 1, 2011
The past five weeks...
... have pretty much been the best. I am a pessimist at heart, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, the rug to be pulled out from under me, and any other weird esoteric phrase involving fabrics (while I wouldn't say I have bad luck and most of what I deal with are first world white person problems it does seem like nothing is ever very easy for me). While I use every opportunity to display caustic wit with a dash of hypocrisy and disdain, I really am happy most of the time. Expecting the worst from most everything means I'm pleasantly surprised almost all the time. And the ability to laugh at even the smallest (and dumbest)things is awesome, everyone should try it. A couple weeks ago I was on my way into work and there was a giant penis drawn in chalk on the street. Like bigger than my car. I laughed for 10 minutes straight and then randomly throughout the day whenever I thought of it. Best commute ever.
Though all the the car accidents aren't the best thing ever, I still have to laugh (or else I get really upset & frustrated and I hate leaking emotionless robot tears), joking with the sarcastic cop that told me to go all Dukes of Hazard on my non-opening door. No one (I hope) expects to get into three car accidents in less than six weeks. Only one was my fault- the one with little to no damage to either car (except my turn signal falls out if I go over a speed bump too fast). The ones that weren't my fault? At least now Jack has horrible symmetrical damage to either side. It appeases the obsessive-compulsive in me on some ridiculous level.
Back to the "best" part. (It doesn't take much to get me on a complain-y streak. But complaining makes me happy so then we're back to that!) Alaska was amazing, beer is wonderful, my friends are fantastic and I like my job. All good news. I decided multiple times that "detox starts tomorrow" but then something would come up: free concerts (Matisyahu at the zoo, my friend Halie at the Heathman) free booze at block parties, bar-b-ques, girls nights, weekends in college towns, and the Brewer's Festival. When I got home after that I had 4 plastics mugs in my purse and a beer token in my bra. THAT is a successful day. So detox was pushed and pushed and pushed as was my liver and bank account. To the extreme.
Now it's August 1st. I haven't counted calories or cared much about the gym (it's so mundane almost all the time, thank goodness for my innate ability to judge everyone around me or I'd be so bored) since the middle of June. Now that summer is finally here I can play tennis and go on hikes, that alleviates some of the more banal workouts. I weighed myself this morning and it's not too bad, all things considered. 175.9. I've had worse. By about 40 pounds. But now instead of only seven pounds away from my goal I'm back to 10. So detox officially and for realsies starts today. Counting calories, shunning my friends and booze (I'm equally sorry to both parties) and hitting the gym six times a week. I want to be in the 160s by my birthday and maths tells me that's six pounds in six weeks. I'm pretty sure cutting out alcohol alone will force out a couple of the more bloated pounds.
Also fudgesicles don't count during detox.
Though all the the car accidents aren't the best thing ever, I still have to laugh (or else I get really upset & frustrated and I hate leaking emotionless robot tears), joking with the sarcastic cop that told me to go all Dukes of Hazard on my non-opening door. No one (I hope) expects to get into three car accidents in less than six weeks. Only one was my fault- the one with little to no damage to either car (except my turn signal falls out if I go over a speed bump too fast). The ones that weren't my fault? At least now Jack has horrible symmetrical damage to either side. It appeases the obsessive-compulsive in me on some ridiculous level.
Back to the "best" part. (It doesn't take much to get me on a complain-y streak. But complaining makes me happy so then we're back to that!) Alaska was amazing, beer is wonderful, my friends are fantastic and I like my job. All good news. I decided multiple times that "detox starts tomorrow" but then something would come up: free concerts (Matisyahu at the zoo, my friend Halie at the Heathman) free booze at block parties, bar-b-ques, girls nights, weekends in college towns, and the Brewer's Festival. When I got home after that I had 4 plastics mugs in my purse and a beer token in my bra. THAT is a successful day. So detox was pushed and pushed and pushed as was my liver and bank account. To the extreme.
Now it's August 1st. I haven't counted calories or cared much about the gym (it's so mundane almost all the time, thank goodness for my innate ability to judge everyone around me or I'd be so bored) since the middle of June. Now that summer is finally here I can play tennis and go on hikes, that alleviates some of the more banal workouts. I weighed myself this morning and it's not too bad, all things considered. 175.9. I've had worse. By about 40 pounds. But now instead of only seven pounds away from my goal I'm back to 10. So detox officially and for realsies starts today. Counting calories, shunning my friends and booze (I'm equally sorry to both parties) and hitting the gym six times a week. I want to be in the 160s by my birthday and maths tells me that's six pounds in six weeks. I'm pretty sure cutting out alcohol alone will force out a couple of the more bloated pounds.
Also fudgesicles don't count during detox.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Back from vacation...
...and I need detox STAT.
But it's not happening. I can't get back into the groove of not drinking and not hanging out with friends. All I did for a year was shun people and booze and yes I lost a bunch of weight and now I'm SO close and vacation was SO fun that I just don't want to go back to that. Plus it's sunny out and there are books to read outside, beer to drink on patios, tennis to play, mountains to climb. I made it to my goal (by .1 pound) the day I left for Alaska and was pretty damn pleased about that.
Then vacation began. I started drinking way more than I have in the past year. Now that I think about it, I've probably had more booze in the past three weeks than I have since May of 2010. Oops. Oh well, I heard somewhere that my liver is totally fixing itself as I type this so I may need to imbibe even more later to give it a run for its money. It is the weekend now.
I was going to wait till Monday to weigh myself for the post vacation verdict because I PLANNED to have a week of detox first. But it just wasn't in the cards. So detox is pushed back another day, another week, another month and soon I'm 31 and fat again. No, it won't go that far. Though I did jump the gun and weigh myself this morning and although everything in my closet still fits fine (including the amazing ass designer jeans I got in Anchorage. They are both amazing and amazing for my ass) I did gain five pounds. Oh. Well. Honestly I couldn't care less. I wasn't done yet anyway and now when I jump start my system it'll be even more willing to drop the first couple pounds quickly. I hope.
Now I have to make a trip to the gym. Then to beer. It'll all work out in the end. Everything usually does.
But it's not happening. I can't get back into the groove of not drinking and not hanging out with friends. All I did for a year was shun people and booze and yes I lost a bunch of weight and now I'm SO close and vacation was SO fun that I just don't want to go back to that. Plus it's sunny out and there are books to read outside, beer to drink on patios, tennis to play, mountains to climb. I made it to my goal (by .1 pound) the day I left for Alaska and was pretty damn pleased about that.
Then vacation began. I started drinking way more than I have in the past year. Now that I think about it, I've probably had more booze in the past three weeks than I have since May of 2010. Oops. Oh well, I heard somewhere that my liver is totally fixing itself as I type this so I may need to imbibe even more later to give it a run for its money. It is the weekend now.
I was going to wait till Monday to weigh myself for the post vacation verdict because I PLANNED to have a week of detox first. But it just wasn't in the cards. So detox is pushed back another day, another week, another month and soon I'm 31 and fat again. No, it won't go that far. Though I did jump the gun and weigh myself this morning and although everything in my closet still fits fine (including the amazing ass designer jeans I got in Anchorage. They are both amazing and amazing for my ass) I did gain five pounds. Oh. Well. Honestly I couldn't care less. I wasn't done yet anyway and now when I jump start my system it'll be even more willing to drop the first couple pounds quickly. I hope.
Now I have to make a trip to the gym. Then to beer. It'll all work out in the end. Everything usually does.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
I'm not counting weeks anymore...
...the math hurts my brain. Calendars and science are hard.
I've not so much given up as seriously slowed down. My impending vacation and my truly heroic intake of beer (it's SUMMER damn it!) have impeded what little motivation I have left. I go to the gym 6 days a week still, yes but since I go at 6 o'clock with everyone else in Portland it's really hard for me to do what I want when I want without the urge to punch some meat head in his face. Or short shorts. Seriously dude. Buy some damn pants, I beg you. After staying at 177 for two or three weeks I dropped almost four pounds in only two weeks to weigh in at 173.5 last Tuesday. Or Wednesday. I don't remember. That's only one pound away from my "official" goal but I'm probably going to keep going. I'd like to be solidly under 170 so when in the future (and for the rest of my damn life) when I get up to 170 I can be like "whoa NJ, chill on the beer and snack treats and head to the gym".
Many years ago I lived in Corvallis. I was walking down the street downtown when some Casanova yelled out his car window "if you drop five pounds I'd bone you!" and my first thought was disbelief: is this real life? I looked around and it was only me this Lothario could be hollering at, I was alone on the street. At first I was in shock that it had even happened, then I just started laughing. Five pounds? That was it? I can't really remember, but this was in the stage between the skinniest I'd ever been (about 10 pounds heavier than I am now) and the heaviest I've ever been (after a devastating time in my life and a move from Corvallis back to Portland) so I'm going to call that I was around 200-210 pounds. That's a solid 28 or 29 on the BMI, I was only a couple pounds from obese and this gentleman was only requesting that I drop five pounds?
I wonder now that I've lost 45 if I should look him up. I'm still the same asshole I was then, I'm just skinnier. But apparently that's all it takes to hook a man of car-hollering caliber.
I've not so much given up as seriously slowed down. My impending vacation and my truly heroic intake of beer (it's SUMMER damn it!) have impeded what little motivation I have left. I go to the gym 6 days a week still, yes but since I go at 6 o'clock with everyone else in Portland it's really hard for me to do what I want when I want without the urge to punch some meat head in his face. Or short shorts. Seriously dude. Buy some damn pants, I beg you. After staying at 177 for two or three weeks I dropped almost four pounds in only two weeks to weigh in at 173.5 last Tuesday. Or Wednesday. I don't remember. That's only one pound away from my "official" goal but I'm probably going to keep going. I'd like to be solidly under 170 so when in the future (and for the rest of my damn life) when I get up to 170 I can be like "whoa NJ, chill on the beer and snack treats and head to the gym".
Many years ago I lived in Corvallis. I was walking down the street downtown when some Casanova yelled out his car window "if you drop five pounds I'd bone you!" and my first thought was disbelief: is this real life? I looked around and it was only me this Lothario could be hollering at, I was alone on the street. At first I was in shock that it had even happened, then I just started laughing. Five pounds? That was it? I can't really remember, but this was in the stage between the skinniest I'd ever been (about 10 pounds heavier than I am now) and the heaviest I've ever been (after a devastating time in my life and a move from Corvallis back to Portland) so I'm going to call that I was around 200-210 pounds. That's a solid 28 or 29 on the BMI, I was only a couple pounds from obese and this gentleman was only requesting that I drop five pounds?
I wonder now that I've lost 45 if I should look him up. I'm still the same asshole I was then, I'm just skinnier. But apparently that's all it takes to hook a man of car-hollering caliber.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
The past three weeks (18-20)
...in which I'm still trying to lose weight but care less & less about the number on the scale.
5/18 - 6/6
And honestly I can't really remember most of the past three weeks. My life is gym and work with beer and friends thrown into the mix for a nice balance. This week has been all about the car accident and Operation: Fuck That Guy Up.
I started a new job on the 16th of May. One that involves sitting on my ass all day. That probably plays a part in my body's refusal to lose any more weight. I could also blame my shockingly high beer intake. But I'll blame the sitting. I'm still counting calories but I took a week off in there because I just got so sick of it. I also took last Saturday off because it involved two cookies, a giant tamale and five (yes, five) delicious beers. I know it wasn't the optimal choice for someone on a "diet" but I honestly don't consider myself on a diet, I never have. I don't restrict any foods because that's just stupid. My body and its allergies do that just fine on its own, thank you.
My gym buddy got married the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend and that was super fun. The food was amazing, the cake SMELLED divine but of course I didn't eat any of it, and the bride looked SO SKINNY in her beautiful dress. No calories were counted that day either, but as the photographer I spent all day busy busy busy with not very much food. The whole day was a blast and honestly I can't wait for her to get back from her honeymoon so we can start being gym buddies again.
I weighed myself on Tuesday and while I'm still hovering at 177.7 (for days now which I figured was lucky, but then the car accident proved to me how wrong I was) I can tell my body is super pleased with everything I've been doing. ESPECIALLY drinking beer. And now it's almost the weekend again and the sun's supposed to be shining the whole time and I'm pretty sure that means friends, beer and books. And no gym.
5/18 - 6/6
And honestly I can't really remember most of the past three weeks. My life is gym and work with beer and friends thrown into the mix for a nice balance. This week has been all about the car accident and Operation: Fuck That Guy Up.
I started a new job on the 16th of May. One that involves sitting on my ass all day. That probably plays a part in my body's refusal to lose any more weight. I could also blame my shockingly high beer intake. But I'll blame the sitting. I'm still counting calories but I took a week off in there because I just got so sick of it. I also took last Saturday off because it involved two cookies, a giant tamale and five (yes, five) delicious beers. I know it wasn't the optimal choice for someone on a "diet" but I honestly don't consider myself on a diet, I never have. I don't restrict any foods because that's just stupid. My body and its allergies do that just fine on its own, thank you.
My gym buddy got married the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend and that was super fun. The food was amazing, the cake SMELLED divine but of course I didn't eat any of it, and the bride looked SO SKINNY in her beautiful dress. No calories were counted that day either, but as the photographer I spent all day busy busy busy with not very much food. The whole day was a blast and honestly I can't wait for her to get back from her honeymoon so we can start being gym buddies again.
I weighed myself on Tuesday and while I'm still hovering at 177.7 (for days now which I figured was lucky, but then the car accident proved to me how wrong I was) I can tell my body is super pleased with everything I've been doing. ESPECIALLY drinking beer. And now it's almost the weekend again and the sun's supposed to be shining the whole time and I'm pretty sure that means friends, beer and books. And no gym.
Monday, June 6, 2011
I knew I shouldn't have bought that boat...
I didn't buy a boat. But it's like in all those cheesy 80s movies (McBAAAAIIIINNN!! A movie within a tv show, I know) when the cop is about to retire and he only has two payments left on his boat/house/RV and then he gets gunned down and everything is ruined?! Okay, that didn't exactly happen to me, but I only have two payments (maybe three...) left on Jack and BAM someone hit me on my way to the gym today. Right in front of my gym actually. So that was probably the best part, at least there were supportive people on my side right there, if it had been anywhere else I'd be stuck alone on a street corner with the wind blowing my skirt up. So... any other Monday night. Nah, I kid.
It was already a rough day at work, my newly minted office job has me realizing what Office Space and Garfield were really all about. As much as I love it there, Mondays really do suck! It's not just a cliche! All I wanted was a beer or some serious cardio. Since I had been drinking since Thursday my obvious choice for weight loss was cardio. I was just driving along, singing to my heart's content (Jebus I love Adele) when BAM the aforementioned hitting of my car. Jack didn't deserve it. He tries so hard (no he doesn't) and to be taken down in his prime (it's not his prime) is just a travesty and a disgrace. Plus he looks like trailer trash now!
Bastard McGee of course claims it was all my fault. "Why were you driving so fast?" he yells. "Whoa," I say. I am NOT dealing with anyone's bullshit right meow. It's too much, TOO MUCH! So he called the cops. Wonderful, it's his fault, let's get the whole freaking town involved! First he claims I was speeding and he couldn't see me coming. You didn't see me because you didn't look. Then when the police arrived he told them that he was simply "repositioning his parking spot" and that I must have been swerving. Uh, no thanks. The cop takes one look at my car and makes a snide comment that pretty much negates Mr. McGee's whole story (stories). Love it. Score the first (ever) for Beaverton PD. I take pictures, my trainer/lawyer/insurance agent/life coach is there to help (almost as much as I think a beer would have) and even though I'm still worried I'll get shafted (and not in a Monday-night-street-corner kind of way) I know I'm right and I know Bastard McGee is wrong and I'm only hoping everything works out fine. It usually does.
NOW WHERE'S MY DAMN BEER!?!
It was already a rough day at work, my newly minted office job has me realizing what Office Space and Garfield were really all about. As much as I love it there, Mondays really do suck! It's not just a cliche! All I wanted was a beer or some serious cardio. Since I had been drinking since Thursday my obvious choice for weight loss was cardio. I was just driving along, singing to my heart's content (Jebus I love Adele) when BAM the aforementioned hitting of my car. Jack didn't deserve it. He tries so hard (no he doesn't) and to be taken down in his prime (it's not his prime) is just a travesty and a disgrace. Plus he looks like trailer trash now!
Bastard McGee of course claims it was all my fault. "Why were you driving so fast?" he yells. "Whoa," I say. I am NOT dealing with anyone's bullshit right meow. It's too much, TOO MUCH! So he called the cops. Wonderful, it's his fault, let's get the whole freaking town involved! First he claims I was speeding and he couldn't see me coming. You didn't see me because you didn't look. Then when the police arrived he told them that he was simply "repositioning his parking spot" and that I must have been swerving. Uh, no thanks. The cop takes one look at my car and makes a snide comment that pretty much negates Mr. McGee's whole story (stories). Love it. Score the first (ever) for Beaverton PD. I take pictures, my trainer/lawyer/insurance agent/life coach is there to help (almost as much as I think a beer would have) and even though I'm still worried I'll get shafted (and not in a Monday-night-street-corner kind of way) I know I'm right and I know Bastard McGee is wrong and I'm only hoping everything works out fine. It usually does.
NOW WHERE'S MY DAMN BEER!?!
Friday, May 27, 2011
Why do my car mishaps crack me up so much?
My car hasn't locked in like 7 months... well it locks but then it doesn't unlock with the key so I just leave it unlocked all the time. I apparently have issues with owning cars that allow for proper storage; while my first car actually did lock the driver's side door handle was broken so I just left her unlocked all the time. If someone's going to bust into a 20 year old Volvo to steal crap then we'll just let them feel good about themselves for doing so and make it easy. At least then they wouldn't have busted a window and cost me $500 so they could steal nothing. Except for my cds that one time. That was my bad for forgetting them, but that doesn't make it okay for people to take shit.
Jack (my current car- I have a complex in which I name or nickname everything and everyone I come into contact with) has been fine since I've started leaving him unlocked, thanks Portland. All winning streaks must come to an end though (right LA? HA!) and on Thursday morning when I left for work the door was ajar and the glove compartment was open. Damn kids. I was annoyed with them for rifling through my stuff but also spent the whole drive to work laughing, they tore the car UP but I couldn't even tell, my car is so full crap like old shoes and a broken umbrella and mix cds that are scratched beyond recognition.
Jack (my current car- I have a complex in which I name or nickname everything and everyone I come into contact with) has been fine since I've started leaving him unlocked, thanks Portland. All winning streaks must come to an end though (right LA? HA!) and on Thursday morning when I left for work the door was ajar and the glove compartment was open. Damn kids. I was annoyed with them for rifling through my stuff but also spent the whole drive to work laughing, they tore the car UP but I couldn't even tell, my car is so full crap like old shoes and a broken umbrella and mix cds that are scratched beyond recognition.
The only thing of any value at ALL in the entire car is my death star (should that be capitalized?) key chain that hangs around the rear view mirror and they left that thank goodness! Oh and all my canvas grocery bags and even though they're only $1 each I'm glad they left them, I've bought so many already.
It took me till this afternoon to realize what was actually taken because they left a single one on the floor mat, taking the other 14 or so. Leftover beer tokens from the Oregon Brewers Festival. You. Bastards. Though in all fairness they had been sitting in my car for almost 3 years now. I volunteered there once and they paid me in tokens. And as much as I love beer and festivals devoted to things that I love there were just too many damn people and crowds give me gas. I've never been back because the thought of touching other people in the dead of summer freaks me out so the tokens just sat there and unused. I tried to pawn them off on people but never had any takers. So hopefully the damn kids will get some use of them.
While I was rummaging around trying to see what, if anything, was taken I did find two things I'd been searching for. A CD case from the library that years ago I paid a fine for losing was back there. And my sunscreen that I looked for that one day it was sunny. Maybe it'll come in handy in August, we'll see. So thanks ransackers for unearthing some hidden gems for me. Much obliged, I'm sure.
While I was rummaging around trying to see what, if anything, was taken I did find two things I'd been searching for. A CD case from the library that years ago I paid a fine for losing was back there. And my sunscreen that I looked for that one day it was sunny. Maybe it'll come in handy in August, we'll see. So thanks ransackers for unearthing some hidden gems for me. Much obliged, I'm sure.
The worst part of all this is that if they had closed the door and the glove compartment I probably wouldn't have even noticed anything was amiss for a couple days. The damn kids didn't get anything of real value, except maybe some sort of airborne pathogen from all the shit in my car and they helped me find something I'd been searching for! Win win! I was seriously laughing my ass off on the way to work thinking of what they thought they'd find in a BMW and only finding crap piled on top of crap. Seriously, a baggie of pistachio shells, a half a roll of toilet paper, an empty perfume bottle. They could have at least thrown everything in a garbage bag and taken it with them, it would've helped me out a lot.
And yes, I'll clean it out this weekend I promise.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Weeks 16-17
5/3 - 5/17
...in which it's really been 52 weeks.
On May 17, 2010 I decided I was too fat. Too fat again. How did this happen? I blame beer and fudgesicles. Totally all their fault.
With Brittany on our drive down to Vegas the first week of May last year.
I wasn't necessarily unhappy like so many people on fatty reality shows are. I wasn't fat because I was sad, or because I had a rough childhood or because I was scared of who I really was when I wasn't fat. I knew who I was. I was funny, outgoing, smart and pretty damn clever too. Also I swore WAY too much and had substantial burping problems. I still am (and have) all those things, just in a smaller package. I've LITERALLY (yeah, I did that) been working my ass off and it does look fabulous. I'm pretty much forcing everyone to look at it whether they want to or not.
With Brittany again just last week! And yeah, I have a thing for giant sunglasses.
Even though I love Biggest Loser, weight loss is not a journey. I HATE that they call it that, it makes it sound like we should be sad and weepy all the time. Like Odysseus. Oh, did we not read the same copy of The Odyssey? No wonder I hated it so much. It's been hard crappy work that forced me to give up a lot of things I really like. Like my friends and booze. I've just recently started drinking again; many weekends of excess and I think I need to put libations on the back burner for a while. At least till I go to Alaska. But losing weight SUCKS. I'm sweaty all the time, my car smells like a foot because I'm always either on my way to the gym or on my way home from there. And I can't wait till I don't have to count calories anymore, it's SO boring. I don't CARE how many calories are in my Hungarian goulash I just want to enjoy it!
But there's a plus side to all this of course. I love to complain, but you can't argue with results. I can do more at the gym than I ever thought I could (even though I bitch and swear a LOT) and it's totally worth it. I went to the Rogue brewery in Newport last weekend and my three beers, fries and meat did not sit well- my body was definitely rejecting my decisions. I felt like shit that night (totally worth it though GOD I love beer) but it was good to know in real life I'm making the right decisions and my insides are super happy (most of the time). Also, I know a lot of people aren't sure if it's kosher to compliment someone on losing weight, to mention it might be admitting that you thought they were fat before. But guess what. I was fat before. I know I was fat. And I want EVERYONE to notice how good I look and tell me. PLEASE tell me! We all strive for validation and adoration cause it feels good to be appreciated when working so hard to reach a goal.
Also, you can tell me I'm funny too. Because compliments are awesome and looks aren't everything. It's okay to be shallow sometimes, but c'mon. Grow up will you?
PS- Weight? 178. That's 38 total pounds gone (even with a 4 month break over vacations and the holidays!). I've lost just about 15 inches from everywhere on my body. That's science. I've gone from a size 16 to a 10 and an iffy XL to an M. That's math. Shopping is fun now and I love everything just a little more than I did before. Being a skinny bitch is awesome.
...in which it's really been 52 weeks.
On May 17, 2010 I decided I was too fat. Too fat again. How did this happen? I blame beer and fudgesicles. Totally all their fault.
I wasn't necessarily unhappy like so many people on fatty reality shows are. I wasn't fat because I was sad, or because I had a rough childhood or because I was scared of who I really was when I wasn't fat. I knew who I was. I was funny, outgoing, smart and pretty damn clever too. Also I swore WAY too much and had substantial burping problems. I still am (and have) all those things, just in a smaller package. I've LITERALLY (yeah, I did that) been working my ass off and it does look fabulous. I'm pretty much forcing everyone to look at it whether they want to or not.
Even though I love Biggest Loser, weight loss is not a journey. I HATE that they call it that, it makes it sound like we should be sad and weepy all the time. Like Odysseus. Oh, did we not read the same copy of The Odyssey? No wonder I hated it so much. It's been hard crappy work that forced me to give up a lot of things I really like. Like my friends and booze. I've just recently started drinking again; many weekends of excess and I think I need to put libations on the back burner for a while. At least till I go to Alaska. But losing weight SUCKS. I'm sweaty all the time, my car smells like a foot because I'm always either on my way to the gym or on my way home from there. And I can't wait till I don't have to count calories anymore, it's SO boring. I don't CARE how many calories are in my Hungarian goulash I just want to enjoy it!
But there's a plus side to all this of course. I love to complain, but you can't argue with results. I can do more at the gym than I ever thought I could (even though I bitch and swear a LOT) and it's totally worth it. I went to the Rogue brewery in Newport last weekend and my three beers, fries and meat did not sit well- my body was definitely rejecting my decisions. I felt like shit that night (totally worth it though GOD I love beer) but it was good to know in real life I'm making the right decisions and my insides are super happy (most of the time). Also, I know a lot of people aren't sure if it's kosher to compliment someone on losing weight, to mention it might be admitting that you thought they were fat before. But guess what. I was fat before. I know I was fat. And I want EVERYONE to notice how good I look and tell me. PLEASE tell me! We all strive for validation and adoration cause it feels good to be appreciated when working so hard to reach a goal.
Also, you can tell me I'm funny too. Because compliments are awesome and looks aren't everything. It's okay to be shallow sometimes, but c'mon. Grow up will you?
PS- Weight? 178. That's 38 total pounds gone (even with a 4 month break over vacations and the holidays!). I've lost just about 15 inches from everywhere on my body. That's science. I've gone from a size 16 to a 10 and an iffy XL to an M. That's math. Shopping is fun now and I love everything just a little more than I did before. Being a skinny bitch is awesome.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Week 15
4/26 - 5/2
...in which everything amazing happens.
This isn't a week for gym and food and weight talk. I did go to the gym and cook and bake. Whoop. I did lose weight and now I'm closer to my goal. Yay. I do need new pants because my 'first stop' goal 12s are way too big now and need to be washed constantly. Another yay. But this past week has been one of the best EVER that I even had to make a list so I wouldn't forget all the cool stuff that happened.
Tuesday morning I got a call from one of my best friends letting me know there was a job opening in her office and I should come by. I curled my hair up real pretty like and rushed over there, ended up with an impromptu interview and an invite for a second. Sweet. I always do well in interviews, it's my ebullient and self-deprecating nature I do believe. I decided I needed to spend some time in the travel section of Powell's because it's pretty much my favorite, first stopping off for tacos, because those are also my favorite. Another one of my best friends texted me to tell me her water's broken and she's in the hospital. Three weeks before her due date! It's slow going but she'll keep me posted. Of course I'm on edge for the the next 24 hours, but that's nothing compared to the 24 hours of labor my friend is in with no consideration to the pins and needles I'm sitting on. But then Wednesday morning BAM there's another person on the planet and she's so so small and so cute I can't stand it.
Thursday I got to visit Ellie (Elisabeth Miriam is way too big a name for such a tiny girl so it's just Ellie) and she's so adorable, when she blinks it's the best thing I've ever seen and every sound and face is like something new and exciting has just happened. I love it but I don't really know who I am anymore.
Thursday night (Friday morning) was, of course, the royal wedding and yes I stayed up for it. My gym buddy spent it with me and, after we made a midnight run to the gym to help us stay awake, there was Boddington's and Newcastle in wine glasses, jam tarts being made at 2:30 in the morning and lots of giggling and talk of fancy hats. It was amazing. Also, I made turkey bacon guacamole burgers and homemade sweet potato fries for dinner that night so it was a pretty unbelievable day/evening/early morning.
Then I found out I got the NEW JOB so I was able to put in my two week notice at my current place (which gave me great joy, even though I'll miss my co-workers very much) and start thinking about a life with a set schedule, weekends off (beer festivals here I come!) and paid vacation. LIKE A GROWNUP! Everything's falling into place.
Now it's time to buckle down and start ignoring my friends again so I can reach the goal I set for myself before I leave for Alaska. 8 pounds in 8 weeks. I've done it before. I can do it again.
...in which everything amazing happens.
This isn't a week for gym and food and weight talk. I did go to the gym and cook and bake. Whoop. I did lose weight and now I'm closer to my goal. Yay. I do need new pants because my 'first stop' goal 12s are way too big now and need to be washed constantly. Another yay. But this past week has been one of the best EVER that I even had to make a list so I wouldn't forget all the cool stuff that happened.
Tuesday morning I got a call from one of my best friends letting me know there was a job opening in her office and I should come by. I curled my hair up real pretty like and rushed over there, ended up with an impromptu interview and an invite for a second. Sweet. I always do well in interviews, it's my ebullient and self-deprecating nature I do believe. I decided I needed to spend some time in the travel section of Powell's because it's pretty much my favorite, first stopping off for tacos, because those are also my favorite. Another one of my best friends texted me to tell me her water's broken and she's in the hospital. Three weeks before her due date! It's slow going but she'll keep me posted. Of course I'm on edge for the the next 24 hours, but that's nothing compared to the 24 hours of labor my friend is in with no consideration to the pins and needles I'm sitting on. But then Wednesday morning BAM there's another person on the planet and she's so so small and so cute I can't stand it.
Thursday I got to visit Ellie (Elisabeth Miriam is way too big a name for such a tiny girl so it's just Ellie) and she's so adorable, when she blinks it's the best thing I've ever seen and every sound and face is like something new and exciting has just happened. I love it but I don't really know who I am anymore.
Thursday night (Friday morning) was, of course, the royal wedding and yes I stayed up for it. My gym buddy spent it with me and, after we made a midnight run to the gym to help us stay awake, there was Boddington's and Newcastle in wine glasses, jam tarts being made at 2:30 in the morning and lots of giggling and talk of fancy hats. It was amazing. Also, I made turkey bacon guacamole burgers and homemade sweet potato fries for dinner that night so it was a pretty unbelievable day/evening/early morning.
Then I found out I got the NEW JOB so I was able to put in my two week notice at my current place (which gave me great joy, even though I'll miss my co-workers very much) and start thinking about a life with a set schedule, weekends off (beer festivals here I come!) and paid vacation. LIKE A GROWNUP! Everything's falling into place.
Now it's time to buckle down and start ignoring my friends again so I can reach the goal I set for myself before I leave for Alaska. 8 pounds in 8 weeks. I've done it before. I can do it again.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Week 14
4/19 - 4/25
...in which there's a veritable fashion show.
No weigh in this week. I haven't been awesome, what with Easter candy lining my arteries, but compared to Easters past I was a freaking beacon of self restraint. Did you know 4 gummi worms have 140 calories? That's bullshit and I'd much rather use those calories for a beer. Or one and a half fudgesicles. Also, I type fudgesicle a LOT, why isn't in my computer's dictionary yet? On Easter I did eat a whole (mini) bag of Cadbury chocolate eggs but it took me all day. And I had one of my cookies. But that was it. Damn good.
Last week I was dreading dress shopping for the first batch of weddings I'm going to this year. Two of the three I'm the photographer so I have to be professional, nondescript, but still look good. Cute, but keeping the legs mostly covered and boobs in locked and loaded position. Which can be tough. But there were dresses! Oh so many dresses at White House Black Market. I used to not be able to shop there, and because of my ample bosom and generous German back I'm still a 14 on top. But a doable, zip myself up kind of 14. I must have tried on eight or nine dresses, two of them I tried on multiple times before settling on a super cute polka dot one. I couldn't be more pleased. I wasn't even planning on buying anything today, resigned to the fact that dress shopping is for suckers and I didn't have a chance of finding one that works for me. But 35 pounds is a harsh mistress and I felt really good for the first time in a while. The dress I bought even has a cute bow/belt thing that I snap with the SECOND snaps, not the first ones. Bam. Skinny Nicole.
To celebrate, a German feast of rotkohl, kartoffelsalat and pork. And beer. Of course beer. I would be a disgrace to my heritage if I tried to lose weight by giving up beer. It was a good thought for those two days, but now I'm back to reality. Back to beer. And it's good.
...in which there's a veritable fashion show.
No weigh in this week. I haven't been awesome, what with Easter candy lining my arteries, but compared to Easters past I was a freaking beacon of self restraint. Did you know 4 gummi worms have 140 calories? That's bullshit and I'd much rather use those calories for a beer. Or one and a half fudgesicles. Also, I type fudgesicle a LOT, why isn't in my computer's dictionary yet? On Easter I did eat a whole (mini) bag of Cadbury chocolate eggs but it took me all day. And I had one of my cookies. But that was it. Damn good.
Last week I was dreading dress shopping for the first batch of weddings I'm going to this year. Two of the three I'm the photographer so I have to be professional, nondescript, but still look good. Cute, but keeping the legs mostly covered and boobs in locked and loaded position. Which can be tough. But there were dresses! Oh so many dresses at White House Black Market. I used to not be able to shop there, and because of my ample bosom and generous German back I'm still a 14 on top. But a doable, zip myself up kind of 14. I must have tried on eight or nine dresses, two of them I tried on multiple times before settling on a super cute polka dot one. I couldn't be more pleased. I wasn't even planning on buying anything today, resigned to the fact that dress shopping is for suckers and I didn't have a chance of finding one that works for me. But 35 pounds is a harsh mistress and I felt really good for the first time in a while. The dress I bought even has a cute bow/belt thing that I snap with the SECOND snaps, not the first ones. Bam. Skinny Nicole.
To celebrate, a German feast of rotkohl, kartoffelsalat and pork. And beer. Of course beer. I would be a disgrace to my heritage if I tried to lose weight by giving up beer. It was a good thought for those two days, but now I'm back to reality. Back to beer. And it's good.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Weeks 12-13
4/5 - 4/18
I work I work out. I work I work out. I go to wedding showers, baby showers, funerals, happy hours and then back to work and the gym. I enjoy tofu more than I ever thought I would. Prosciutto wrapped asparagus changed my world for the better. I've officially cut cheese out of my diet and feel pretty good about that. I'm now vegan except for the meat. And I will never stop eating the meat. I drank WAY too much beer over the last two weeks and am going to try really hard not to drink for... at least the foreseeable future. But I make no promises. Since my flat iron is broken I've started curling my hair and that's pretty cute for now, we'll see how long it lasts. Probably as long as my vow to stop drinking. UPDATE: Curling my hair lasted one day and not drinking lasted two. It's the playoffs! I can't be held responsible for my actions.
When I got on the scale yesterday I wasn't expecting a big number. What with the aforementioned many nights of beer drinking and cutting back on my cardio at the gym. Except for Wednesday nights. That's when Elyse and I watch American Idol. No judging.
I also wasn't expecting a big number because I'd lost 10 pounds in the previous six weeks. That's pretty damn good and I knew my body was going to be all "wait a minute meow, you're doing this again? Can't we just lounge and watch Mad Men and eat fudgesicles and drink wine?" And I say NO to my body and go back to the gym. Sucker. So I lost one pound over the last two weeks. I'm now 182.6 and getting ever closer to my first REAL goal of being 'normal' and not 'overweight'. Not bad considering I started just a hair inside the 'obese' category.
One more pound gone and 34 pounds total. I'd like to hit 40 by Memorial Day weekend and my gym buddy's wedding but either way I should get started dress shopping now. Ugh, dress shopping. I'd rather go beer shopping.
Oh and watch these. I've been obsessed with Epic Meal Time for a couple weeks now (thanks Tron) and these are a few of my favorites. They'll either make you really hungry, really disgusted, or just plain fall in love with Canada all over again.
Breakfast of Booze
Meat Cars
Meat Salad
I work I work out. I work I work out. I go to wedding showers, baby showers, funerals, happy hours and then back to work and the gym. I enjoy tofu more than I ever thought I would. Prosciutto wrapped asparagus changed my world for the better. I've officially cut cheese out of my diet and feel pretty good about that. I'm now vegan except for the meat. And I will never stop eating the meat. I drank WAY too much beer over the last two weeks and am going to try really hard not to drink for... at least the foreseeable future. But I make no promises. Since my flat iron is broken I've started curling my hair and that's pretty cute for now, we'll see how long it lasts. Probably as long as my vow to stop drinking. UPDATE: Curling my hair lasted one day and not drinking lasted two. It's the playoffs! I can't be held responsible for my actions.
When I got on the scale yesterday I wasn't expecting a big number. What with the aforementioned many nights of beer drinking and cutting back on my cardio at the gym. Except for Wednesday nights. That's when Elyse and I watch American Idol. No judging.
I also wasn't expecting a big number because I'd lost 10 pounds in the previous six weeks. That's pretty damn good and I knew my body was going to be all "wait a minute meow, you're doing this again? Can't we just lounge and watch Mad Men and eat fudgesicles and drink wine?" And I say NO to my body and go back to the gym. Sucker. So I lost one pound over the last two weeks. I'm now 182.6 and getting ever closer to my first REAL goal of being 'normal' and not 'overweight'. Not bad considering I started just a hair inside the 'obese' category.
One more pound gone and 34 pounds total. I'd like to hit 40 by Memorial Day weekend and my gym buddy's wedding but either way I should get started dress shopping now. Ugh, dress shopping. I'd rather go beer shopping.
Oh and watch these. I've been obsessed with Epic Meal Time for a couple weeks now (thanks Tron) and these are a few of my favorites. They'll either make you really hungry, really disgusted, or just plain fall in love with Canada all over again.
Breakfast of Booze
Meat Cars
Meat Salad
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Week 11
4/1 - 4/4
...in which my ass looks good in my goal jeans.
So it's only part of Week 11 but since I wrote so much last week I don't need as much right now. Unless you want to hear me bitch about being a privileged white girl that's too tall and getting skinny. You don't? Too bad. Apparently if I'm a size 12 Tall then my pants fit okay but if I'm a 10 Tall then I've somehow managed to lose weight AND about 2 inches off my height. So annoying but I'm pretty okay with it being my new biggest problem.
I weighed myself on Monday for the first time in two weeks and I was down three pounds. 183.6. Long way down from my original weight (33 pounds, whoop!) and pretty damn good I say, especially considering the day before I sat on my ass and played nine hours of Mario Kart for our annual tournament. (I came in 3rd and I'm just as proud of that as I am of the weight loss!) Yes, I did go to the gym in the morning, but there's usually more movement the rest of the day. I also had delicious bacon lager purchased for me by a friend who knows my penchant for bacon anything. Especially booze. Though I am still terrified to try bacon vodka, it just sounds awful and the only proper use I for it is in a Bloody Mary and I don't really like those anyway.
So even with the ass sitting, the beer drinking and the way too much sugar and crap (though for me it still wasn't as much as I used to ingest, I get full and sick faster now) the three pounds were quite nice. And not weighing myself gave me time to notice other things, like how my body seems to finally be figuring out this is for the long haul and is shaving down some inches. Just two weeks into my training workouts and I can notice my upper arms (the bane of my existence) appear smaller and better in t-shirts. Not that I've been wearing any t-shirts since it won't get higher than 50 degrees up in here, but still.
Also my skin looks way better. I'm sure the vitamins help, but I'm pretty sure diet and exercise are the real reasons everything on me is looking nicer these days. Also, I'm wearing my goal jeans right now (right now as I'm typing this!) and am only one (ONE) pound away from the lightest I've ever been as an adult. Sweet. My next few goals are easy. Six pounds here, four pounds there, another four here. Then I've given myself no time limit on the final six (or seven) pounds. They'll happen when they happen and I'll feel damn great about it too.
...in which my ass looks good in my goal jeans.
So it's only part of Week 11 but since I wrote so much last week I don't need as much right now. Unless you want to hear me bitch about being a privileged white girl that's too tall and getting skinny. You don't? Too bad. Apparently if I'm a size 12 Tall then my pants fit okay but if I'm a 10 Tall then I've somehow managed to lose weight AND about 2 inches off my height. So annoying but I'm pretty okay with it being my new biggest problem.
I weighed myself on Monday for the first time in two weeks and I was down three pounds. 183.6. Long way down from my original weight (33 pounds, whoop!) and pretty damn good I say, especially considering the day before I sat on my ass and played nine hours of Mario Kart for our annual tournament. (I came in 3rd and I'm just as proud of that as I am of the weight loss!) Yes, I did go to the gym in the morning, but there's usually more movement the rest of the day. I also had delicious bacon lager purchased for me by a friend who knows my penchant for bacon anything. Especially booze. Though I am still terrified to try bacon vodka, it just sounds awful and the only proper use I for it is in a Bloody Mary and I don't really like those anyway.
So even with the ass sitting, the beer drinking and the way too much sugar and crap (though for me it still wasn't as much as I used to ingest, I get full and sick faster now) the three pounds were quite nice. And not weighing myself gave me time to notice other things, like how my body seems to finally be figuring out this is for the long haul and is shaving down some inches. Just two weeks into my training workouts and I can notice my upper arms (the bane of my existence) appear smaller and better in t-shirts. Not that I've been wearing any t-shirts since it won't get higher than 50 degrees up in here, but still.
Also my skin looks way better. I'm sure the vitamins help, but I'm pretty sure diet and exercise are the real reasons everything on me is looking nicer these days. Also, I'm wearing my goal jeans right now (right now as I'm typing this!) and am only one (ONE) pound away from the lightest I've ever been as an adult. Sweet. My next few goals are easy. Six pounds here, four pounds there, another four here. Then I've given myself no time limit on the final six (or seven) pounds. They'll happen when they happen and I'll feel damn great about it too.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Week 10 (ish)
3/22 - 3/31
...in which I finally stop weighing myself every damn week.
On Thursday I weighed myself and saw that I'd gained a pound. It was stupid of me to weigh myself in the middle of the week and only three days after such a huge win (3.5 pounds for those with poor memories) but I did. Cause I'm a dummy. And the pound gain didn't upset or depress me, I just got annoyed with myself that I would waste my good energy by letting a stupid number get me down. When I got to work I confided with my gym buddy that I had cheated and she told me she had too (neither one of us has great will power, that's how we kept those trim figures for all those years...) and gained a pound also. We decided not to be dummies and stop weighing ourselves so often and focus on our clothes and how they fit, the measurements and the compliments. GOD I love the compliments and I'll get to my very favorite one in a few.
At first we were thinking once a month, but again that will power I know I still don't quite have (though I haven't had a fudgesicle in like 3 days (too much sugar) and I'm dying a little on the inside) I figured I could make it two weeks. Which means weigh-in isn't until April 4th and it seems so far away. Now this decision has a downside too, if I don't lose what I think I should in two weeks I might be a little disappointed, but I also know that I'm working really hard, trying new things and it's definitely paying off.
On Thursday I went to a class (24 SET) that made me sweat more than I've ever sweat. It was gross and smelly. My hair was a nightmare (one sweat soaked strand was sticking straight out of my head, it was actually pretty awesome) and my face was red red red. But I felt good. Exhausted but good. Then Sunday I got to (finally) see a personal trainer. And if I haven't said it before I love him. So adorable and too smart and I got worked really hard again. I hadn't fully healed from the class (my abs were killing me every time I sneezed, coughed or laughed and I do those things a LOT) and here I was doing even more things that made my face red and my hair stick out straight from sweat. Awesome.
So no weigh-in Monday. And it felt good. I felt good. Well, my abs felt better but my shoulders (10 pound dumbbells! And I didn't complain once. Till now. It was HARD) and my quads were a wreck. I like to mix it up. Later in the week it's my hamstrings. Thank god for the handicap bar next to the toilet. But today at work I was talking with a customer about quitting sugar (or trying) and then something else happened (I only remembered the most important part of the conversation you see) and THEN she told me I was a "skinny minnie" and to shut up! It was the best thing anyone's ever said to me (for real she's awesome and I love her) and I freaked out. Then my gym buddy told me I looked tall and not jiggly at all running on the treadmill this morning. Another win for NJ!
So no matter what the scale says on Monday (especially cause it's the day after my Mario Kart party... I'm only allowing myself one bottle of wine all day. Maybe a giant beer, I haven't decided yet) I know I'm pushing and working and doing the best thing I can for my body and my soul. And the rest of the world. You'll thank me when you officially meet Skinny Nicole. It'll be worth the wait, trust me.
...in which I finally stop weighing myself every damn week.
On Thursday I weighed myself and saw that I'd gained a pound. It was stupid of me to weigh myself in the middle of the week and only three days after such a huge win (3.5 pounds for those with poor memories) but I did. Cause I'm a dummy. And the pound gain didn't upset or depress me, I just got annoyed with myself that I would waste my good energy by letting a stupid number get me down. When I got to work I confided with my gym buddy that I had cheated and she told me she had too (neither one of us has great will power, that's how we kept those trim figures for all those years...) and gained a pound also. We decided not to be dummies and stop weighing ourselves so often and focus on our clothes and how they fit, the measurements and the compliments. GOD I love the compliments and I'll get to my very favorite one in a few.
At first we were thinking once a month, but again that will power I know I still don't quite have (though I haven't had a fudgesicle in like 3 days (too much sugar) and I'm dying a little on the inside) I figured I could make it two weeks. Which means weigh-in isn't until April 4th and it seems so far away. Now this decision has a downside too, if I don't lose what I think I should in two weeks I might be a little disappointed, but I also know that I'm working really hard, trying new things and it's definitely paying off.
On Thursday I went to a class (24 SET) that made me sweat more than I've ever sweat. It was gross and smelly. My hair was a nightmare (one sweat soaked strand was sticking straight out of my head, it was actually pretty awesome) and my face was red red red. But I felt good. Exhausted but good. Then Sunday I got to (finally) see a personal trainer. And if I haven't said it before I love him. So adorable and too smart and I got worked really hard again. I hadn't fully healed from the class (my abs were killing me every time I sneezed, coughed or laughed and I do those things a LOT) and here I was doing even more things that made my face red and my hair stick out straight from sweat. Awesome.
So no weigh-in Monday. And it felt good. I felt good. Well, my abs felt better but my shoulders (10 pound dumbbells! And I didn't complain once. Till now. It was HARD) and my quads were a wreck. I like to mix it up. Later in the week it's my hamstrings. Thank god for the handicap bar next to the toilet. But today at work I was talking with a customer about quitting sugar (or trying) and then something else happened (I only remembered the most important part of the conversation you see) and THEN she told me I was a "skinny minnie" and to shut up! It was the best thing anyone's ever said to me (for real she's awesome and I love her) and I freaked out. Then my gym buddy told me I looked tall and not jiggly at all running on the treadmill this morning. Another win for NJ!
So no matter what the scale says on Monday (especially cause it's the day after my Mario Kart party... I'm only allowing myself one bottle of wine all day. Maybe a giant beer, I haven't decided yet) I know I'm pushing and working and doing the best thing I can for my body and my soul. And the rest of the world. You'll thank me when you officially meet Skinny Nicole. It'll be worth the wait, trust me.
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