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Musings from the Laundromat: Last muse of the Year

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If I were ever going to be the person that wore their pajamas out in public, it would have been today.  But I’m not and I didn’t.

Tossed and turned last night, with my tossing and turning only to be interrupted by brief and very odd, commercial length dreams.  “This night of restlessness sponsored by ‘REM’.”

In between coughing and telling Butters to go lay down, I found myself helping someone find their small silver dog  and sitting in on a table reading for a radio spot??

I’m not even going to bother trying to interpret those.

I’ve been awake (and I use that term loosely) for less than an hour and am now at my table after filling 3 washing machines.

I wanted to get here as early as possible so that I can go home and rest!

I’m still sick.

I tried to cheer myself up after it was clear I had to actually put clothes on this morning and announced to the dog “I’ll wear my pink underwear today!”

She didn’t much care – but I guess I thought a punch of secret color would put a little pep in my dragging step.

It hasn’t.

I’m pretty sure I look like a homeless person right now.  A sick homeless person.

It hasn’t frightened anyone off so far though – in fact, two people struck up conversations with me while I was stuffing the machines with my offerings.

I should have coughed more.

That’s how I know (other than the uncontrollable coughing and general apathy) that I’m under the weather.

Any other day those people would have ended up in my blog – after I chatted their ears off and found out where they were from and what they did and who they loved and …. well – I suppose they’ve ended up in my blog anyway.

Let’s go back to before I got here.

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Yeah – like that.  Only, it was one 18 year-old child and I didn’t have my fun pink underwear on yet.

My son stood outside my bathroom, “Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“When are you going to do laundry?”

“Half an hour – why?”

Now, I was seriously thinking that because he was up so early maybe he had contracted my bug, OR, actually wanted to come with me.

No.

“Can you wake me up when you get back?”

really

Sigh.

He retreated to his wing of the house and I brushed my teeth and stepped on the scale.

Tangent.

I’m thin.  I lost weight sensibly and over time and when I quit drinking, the rest of the weight slid off.

I did notice in one of the photos I had taken with Lisa however, that I looked too thin.

I brought it up to my mom yesterday who mentioned that she had been noticing and when my ‘skinny’ jeans are baggy it might mean I have lost too much weight.

They are baggy.

I eat!  I do!  I love food!

I think the method I used for losing the weight has stuck with me though.  I only eat when I’m hungry.  I don’t believe in Breakfast ‘time’, lunch ‘time’, dinner ‘time’ – I eat whenever I want and stop when I’m full.

Sometimes I eat like a hobbit and have second or third breakfasts – sometimes I only want my lunch all day.  I listen to my body.

Pretty simple.

But yesterday I forced a meal down because I don’t want my skinny jeans to be baggy.

So I’m on the scale – and I’ve lost 2 pounds.  I don’t know where they went!  I’ve been stuffing my face with holiday food – I’ve had two friends take me to lunch (Thank you Ruth and Lisa) and been digging in to the sweets that were in my Christmas stocking.

Seriously – how am I now 5’9 (and a half) and 125 lbs?!

It bothers me.

I do not have an eating disorder, but the thought of eating just for the sake of gaining weight – of forcing food down that I am not hungry for … is repulsive to me.  (Says the girl who ordered Foie Gras)

Food should be savored – appreciated – enjoyed!

I would say I’ll snack more – but I already do that!

During the week I constantly have food in my mouth – it’s become an office joke.

Anyway – so I need to gain weight.

Back to Nic and the fact that he was not offering to come to the laundromat with me.

I got a Barnes and Noble gift card for Christmas – and I think one of the books that I am going to have to buy is “The Little Red Hen”.  I think that book should be mandatory reading for everyone. Period.

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If you don’t contribute, you don’t get to enjoy the outcome.

You want to enjoy living in a clean house?  Help clean it.  You want clean clothes to wear?  Help clean them.  You want a happy life?  Put positive things into it.

Which, brings me to one of the things I plan on ‘resolving’ to do for the New Year.

Less bitching.

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I’m going to find my positive energy again.  The power of positivity juxtaposed with my inability to edit myself may prove to be a problem, but I don’t expect results over night.

Perhaps if I constantly have food in my mouth, I won’t be able to gripe?  Two birds, one stone.

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Debauchery Soup (Okay, everything but soup)

This weekend was pure culinary debauchery.  I ate a ridiculous amount of food.

Somehow this was all that was left of 2 dozen fresh baked cookies (Cranberry white chocolate and chocolate chunk in case you’re wondering)

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Yeah, that would make 19 that I consumed yesterday.  I do not know how.  I just know that the proof is in the picture.  (I ate one this morning if you’re doing the math and not coming up with 19)

I also had a healthy baked potato for lunch.  Albeit, it was hidden under sour cream, cheese, red bell peppers, spring onions and Southwest chicken pieces.

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I did take time to play with the food a little before indulging.  These were my ‘left over veggie flower’ photos:

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It didn’t stop there.  I was still hungry after my potato.  So I tried for healthy:

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Then skipped to unhealthy and had two bowls of this fun cereal.  (Let me tell you, they do NOT skimp on the marshmallows!)

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This comfort eating has to stop.

And it has for now … as I noticed that between the time I brushed my teeth this morning, and approximately 1:00 pm, I had broken my front tooth!!

I don’t bite down on my front teeth – so I have no CLUE how I did it.  But done it is.

I feel like I look like this:

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But it really looks like this:

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See – the tooth above the ‘S’.

Ug!  So, back to the dentist tomorrow.

Anyway, back to food.

I’m known around the office for being thin, yet always eating.  So it was no surprise when a realtor came to me to ask about a plate of cookies that mysteriously appeared on her desk with an illegible thank-you card.

Surely she didn’t think I left them??  A) I would never leave cookies unattended and B) I would never part with cookies.

I’m leaving you a treat – it would be something wrapped and sealed so tight I couldn’t be tempted to get into it.

I was however, able to make a positive ID for her on what the hand that was holding said plate of cookies looked like.

Hey, if cookies are walking by the office, my radar goes off.  I could also confirm that the cookies were shaded by a hat on the head of unidentified cookie bearer and that the delivery occurred on Friday afternoon.

I’m so helpful.

If ever called to help police as a witness, their suspect better have been holding food.

Tonight, I fast.

It’s not going to be hard … as I brought a banana for breakfast – cheese, salad and turkey sandwich and tortilla chips for lunch, and then my boss announced he’d brought chili for us.  Score!

This is my actual stomach – and it is grateful.  But it had better not get used to such feeding frenzies.

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I’m done!

Wait … would you look at the dogs food!!! 

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Creative Laryngitis to a loud chastising

I’ve lost my voice.  My artistic voice.  It’s 5:54 in the morning and I’m wracking my brain trying to think of something deep or witty or poignant or even remotely worth your eye time and cannot.

I’ve had a headache for two days (probably a side effect of the eating debauchery I embarked on starting Friday and ending Sunday and the instant 4 pounds I put on my often mentioned small frame).

A-ha!

Let’s talk about that.  Let’s talk about my weight. (See what can happen when you just keep typing?  Eventually something comes up.  Now we need a picture.  I’ll use this one as I’ve been told I resemble her – here’s Ms. Gwyneth Paltrow).

I used to be thin.  It’s in my genes.  My Nannie is thin, my mother is thin.  I’m 5’10 and on average, now weigh 129 pounds.  A few years ago, I was teetering between the mid 160’s up to 172 at my heaviest.  I made a concerted effort to lose weight and it worked.  No soda – no white bread – smaller portions – stopped eating when I was full (what a concept) – no eating right before going to bed.  Nothing bonkers.  Just sensible.

The catalyst was hating to take my clothes off and still seeing the outline of them on my body. LOL!  That, and actually startling at my desk because “something touched my legs!!” (Turned out it was my stomach).

I was also uncomfortable, and my heart condition was getting worse.  Although, my heart issue stems from my sinus node, not the actual heart – I figured it still couldn’t hurt.

Then I quit drinking.

OH!  Do liquids have calories? THAT explains a lot.  More weight came off.  Because if I’m being honest, probably half my daily allowable calories came from champagne or wine or vodka or beer.  And some days many non-allowable daily calories too.

I am not skinny!  But I get comments a lot that I am.

This prompted me a while ago to quip on my Facebook status ‘why is it ok to point out someone is thin, but not that someone is fat??’.  I think both are rude.

I came to the conclusion that ‘thin’ has negative connotations.  It brings to mind disease, addiction, poverty.  While having some meat on the bones has historically meant ‘privilege, wealth, success’.

Um.  Can I ask again, why is it ok to mention the thin?  It’s sort of ruder now I’ve pointed out what it brings to mind.  What if they have just beaten a disease??  Or really can’t afford to eat? Ouch.  That would be horrible!   Because it’s never said privately out of concern, it’s usually flippantly thrown out there in public almost like it’s a compliment, except for that touch of distaste in the sentence.

I mean, you don’t just say to someone ‘Wow, your hair is really thinning.’  Or, ‘Your nose is so BIG!’.  Why do we think it’s ok to point anything like that out? Boggles the mind.  Just stop it.  Keep your eyes on your own paper.

Now, if I wasn’t eating or if a bone was protruding, a well-meaning ‘aside’ from a friend would be not only acceptable but expected!

But I went from a size 14-16 to a 6-8, not a zero.  I’m not skin and bones people.  Trust me, I see me naked.