Caterwauling

On traffic …

Got a text yesterday from someone I’ve been a bit mad at. And I realized I’m not mad anymore. Life has gone on. Funny how that happens sometimes. Never gonna be BFFs again but that’s ok. Saying hi every couple millennia is just fine by me.  Happy to say I can. 

I never have the right words at the exact moment I need them. 

A guy ran his dog into the ducks I was feeding. I flipped out and he was so defensive, he made it seem like my fault. 

My fear at him siccing that foul beast on me or mom kept me from really reading him off. But boy do I have a thousand snappy comebacks … now. 

Same for getting a message kicked off with “poor me.” Followed with a lie. And punctuated by an accusation. 

My instant mental reply was “read that back and you’ll have all the answers you need.” My actual reply, to move on with my day. 

Among many responses in my brain is that I ruined a good thing to choose that instead. I’d give anything to go back to that concert that I ended up spending focused on my phone. Ignoring the good thing I had right there with me, for what I didn’t ask for. And how the latter monopolized my time and how I allowed it to. 

How if I could do it all over again … I just wouldn’t. 

9/15/17 Update: I got a do-over on that concert!

My AC unit punked out.

The AC in the car punked out a year ago.

And the ice maker’s been dead for at least two years.

So, it’s been a laugh a minute around here.

I just paid a guy $100 to basically wipe up four drops of water and restart my thermostat.

He needs a second guy with him because my actual unit is up on the roof. With the units of 299 other apartments. So good luck figuring out if he can find, and fix, this one. But that’s an adventure for another day.

I didn’t bother my landlord because the last time I did, there was a riot. And I got a new lease with about a $100/month bump up in the rent.

He lost his mind that I paid for a repair over $100 that his dim-witted, holy-rolling brother-in-law or whatever could have done for $99. (In Florida, tenants have to pay for repairs up to $100.) Honestly I wasn’t going to tell him about this, no matter what the cost. And even though there may be more, I’ll eat it.

The ice maker, for what it’s worth, will be a $300 repair. I hope he doesn’t take it out of my security deposit. But then he’d also have to take the fact that none of the blinds work … that the electricity doesn’t work in mom’s room at all … the 10 years’ worth of crap in the carpets … the drain that doesn’t drain … the DOA dishwasher … the bleach the whore before me spilled under the sink … and those ceiling marks I made with baseball bats and other various sharp objects to make the Thundercunts shut up.

Yeah I bet that’ll eat up the $3,000 he’s sitting on of mine.

In any event, I need to get out of this place before I actually sweat off a pound or something.

I don’t dream much. Mostly because I don’t SLEEP much. But I did get a cat nap in around 4 a.m. and boy was it great.

Dreamed that the original three Mouseketeers were reunited at work. S&P (not to be confused with Standard & Poor’s) and I got the band back together for a big project.

Nicholas and Angel and Andrew and Marci and Sean and Jesse were all in an office with us, buzzing about. I think even Matt showed up late and went out for a cigarette and was never seen again. But Shern came in from paradise. Even “Linus” flew in from the Left Coast because this was so monumental.

Don’t know that it has any special meaning.

Things were never perfect, and certainly nothing to be mourned for too long a time.

It was just nice to remember some really cool people who made me smile at one time or another.

I figure since I keep paying for Weight Watchers, I should at least listen to Oprah’s podcasts. 

So glad I did. 

In one, she talked about releasing what no longer serves us. Like, gee, our weight. And maybe we struggle so much because it still serves us in some way. 

She said she can hide behind it, to seem smaller in a way … shrinking from serving a greater known purpose. 

Whoa. Ding ding ding!

I’m terrified of the same thing. People keep their expectations low of fat girls. So I can and do always exceed them. I like that almost as much as I like chocolate cake. 

I buy really good fucking cake.

Cake serves me in that mom loves it and I love to make her happy. I love the store that sells it, and going there gets me out of the office for a half-hour a week. Eating it makes me feel happy and signals that you’ve eaten enough today, Tubbo. No more chewing after you’ve snarfed in the last chocolate chip or dollop of fudge. 

But back to the weight, I use it to justify lack of the job title I want (and do think I deserve). 

I fear relationships and use my size to keep from putting myself out there. I mean, I have mom to take care of. What mental resources do I have to devote to anyone else and still dote on myself from time to time, too?

I could go on. But thinking about this is helping me. I mean, do I really need what I carry around every minute of every day? 

It’s more than weight. Does this car serve me? (For now.) This apartment? (God no.) The men who let me get away? (Hah.) This job? (Yes.)  Etcetera. 

Lots to think about. But mostly that you can’t release something until you’re ready. And sometimes life decides you’re ready before you do. I’d rather part ways with the weight on my terms. But damn, I want some cake first …

Took the day off to spend it at the mechanic. Rear drum is warped. Among other things. 

A recent self-portrait …

Red Foreman ain’t got nothing on this pissed-off Disney princess. 

At this point, I’m hanging around for the entertainment value. 

Weight loss efforts are shot. Shot, I tell you. 

I worked by the beach and even if I didn’t see it, I could smell it. I walked 10K steps a day. I wasn’t forbidden from leaving when I was hungry or thirsty. I could work from home or Starbucks as needed as long as it wasn’t excessive. I got taken out to lunch and didn’t have to keep an arsenal of snacks in my desk for when I couldn’t recaps at all. Because I always could. 

In any event, not here for a pity party but rather to say it out loud. 

My portion sizes have not shrunk as my activity diminished/evaporated. And nothing fucking fits right now because of it. 

I read a good insight that I need to let sink in. We WW types have trained ourselves to find the lowest-point option for every food. And we use that to totally overdo it with portions. 

I know this to be true. I practically gorge on salads. How do you get fatter by eating salads with no dressing, no cheese and no points except for starchy veggies like beans and corn and beets? 

  Well, yeah. 

Went out with friends and they asked how I lost all the weight I did. I joked that I eat vegetarian so I can have wine and cake. 

But that is no joke. I eat wine and cake and vegetables. It’s what I love. And Halo Top ice cream, which isn’t sweet and packs a lot of protein. 

Halo Top is also my enemy because I can eat a pint for 11-12 points. Which I’m fine with after an egg for breakfast (2 points), lentil chip snack (3-4) and salad (6). 

Oh and lentil chips. 12 points for the whole bag. Why not demolish it in one sitting, then?

Maybe I need to stop buying them. Although I did try to give up lentil chips for Lent. That didn’t go so well. I have too much rage. 

Mom begged me to eat them again because it calms me down. (Hence why I take a massive bag to work every day.) and finish it while the other 10 people on the team take their hour and I have to ba babysit the inbox. 

Anyway. It’s not the food’s fault. Or mine. I just need to make better choices. All around, really. 

If anyone isn’t getting the reference, it’s how the Internet imagines cats counting their days of being with their hoomins. I’m not actually captive unless you’re looking at it through the Stockholm syndrome lens. 

In any event, today I drove my happy ass up to my captor. (It’s Sunday.)  The building is locked. No security badge can help you today. I went to every door. Nothing. Damn it. 

Heck. I made it two months without having to work a weekend. I still win. Got my momma some cake from our favorite Italian market and a burger from her favorite place. 

Only took three hours round-trip, and now I’m working at home like I should have done in the first damn place. 

But yeah. Someone should have great fun reviewing the security footage with all my choice words shouted at the building. 

I was at my favorite office yesterday to pick up the mail. They have paid for it to stand empty for three months now. And all one needs is a key to get in and out. If only there were still internet, a PC and a desk there for me, I wouldn’t be measuring my days.