Totally totaled

I don't know if I have ever mentioned it around here, but at one time in my life, I took diet pills.

No, not the dreaded Phen Phen- my crack of choice was called Bontril, and yes, it worked.

It also made me completely insane. Right before my wedding, I stopped taking it, mainly because I was under enough stress without being so cracked out I was unable to sleep.

But at some point, I bought some pills from a shady online pharmacy, and at some point, they have sold my name to some other shady online pharmacies, all of whom seem to outsource their telephone solicitations to India.

Every couple of months, they inundate me with phone calls for a few days.

Have I mentioned that I am also on the Do Not Call List?

I finally got fed up and checked the rules for companies you have done business with in the past, and they explicitly state that any company you have done business with can call you, within 18 months after your last transaction. After that, not only are they just like any other phone solicitor, but they can be fined up to $11,000 if they keep calling. Take that, suckers!

So I reported them. And now I am HOPING that they are stupid enough to call me again.

Rampant! Materialism! Cosmetic edition.

Okay. I have made some fantastic discoveries lately, and felt the need to share with the universe.

Lemon Aid, By Benefit

If you have veiny eyelids (as I do) this stuff is the bomb. It lightens and brightens. If you use it by itself, it gives the impression that you've gotten actual sleep. It also hangs onto your eyeshadow like no man's business.

Cosmedicine

I actually use two of these products, Optimologist and MediMatte. I have gotten a ridiculous amount to compliments on my skin (something I thought would never, ever happen) since I started using both of these.

The infamous Shu Uemura Eyelash Curler

This damn thing has been mentioned in every freaking beauty magazine and by countless celebs as the best eyelash curler money can buy. I saw it in the checkout line at Sephora and demanded that the salesperson tell me just what was so great about this thing. She said that it doesn't pinch your lids, it gives your lashes more of an honest curl rather than a sharp crimp, and it gets all your lashes in there.

Anyway, I was a sucker, and I broke down and coughed up the 18 bucks. And I am so glad that I did, because girl was not a filthy liar. I love this thing and want to sleep with it under my pillow.

Smokey Eyes by Pop Beauty

The packaging is phenomenal, and the range of colors is great. I started out very carefully, and now I use every single color in this palette at least once a week, which is no mean feat. I like to use these in conjunction with my Bare Escentuals brushes, and it's a breeze to apply, not to mention versatile and great for travel.

Kiss Me mascara by Blinc

I bought this on a whim, and so far my two best friends, sister, and mother have also acquired it, to the tune of $24 each. I should get commission. anyway, this stuff forms little tubes around your lashes, which are impervious to water, sweat and tears, but the combo of water and pressure make them slide off when you wash your face at night. It doesn't run or smudge, so "raccoon eyes" just don't happen anymore. Both Mom and Secret Squirrel solemnly say that this stuff is "life altering- I can put mascara on my bottom lashes now!" And those ladies are tough customers, so that's a serious coup.

For the budgetary minded (yeah, I'm right there with you):

Cheek Stain by Sephora

These are six bucks each right now, and they're really versatile, easy, and natural-looking. I have them in Pink and Nude, and they give you a really prety sheer wash of color.

Mineral Makeup by Physician's Formula

Yeah, drugstore makeup!

I was a Bare Minerals convert, but I would go though that stuff at a ridiculous rate, and I missed the convenience of the pressed powder for my purse. This stuff is a fantastic (and much cheaper- you get more powder for less money). The only drawback- you need a good application brush to go with it, the one in the package is crap. I use my old Bare Minerals brushes, and it works like a dream.

Break

OK. I feel like this blog has been a huge outlet for all my doubts and negativity. I hate talking about what is happening with me right now, simply because things are so up in the air and uncertain, and I am having a hard time dealing with it.

So, I am taking a break. Hopefully my issues will be resolved sooner, rather than later, and I can go back to writing about things that are light and entertaining, rather than bitching about my back fat and the long-suffering people who make up my support system.

Thanks for reading...see you in a few.

Recognizability

In the last three days, I have run into three people from my past. We're talking, 15 to 20 years ago.

All of them have immediately recognized me, known my name (first and last), where they knew me from, and in some cases, what college I went to and that I got married.

Granted, I wasn't on a best-friend basis with any of them (two women I went to high school with, and one guy I went to church with) . But the fact that they knew all of these things about me, when all I could do was stare blankly is a little embarrassing. I mean, I could register them as being vaguely familiar-looking but indistinguishable from the cable repairman or the next door neighbor.

There are also scads of people who "recognize" me, usually about one a week. "Don't I know you from somewhere? You look so familiar!" I just smile and say that there must be some other ahem "generously proportioned" woman with similar coloring, who looks a little bit like me.

And now I'm thinking, "Shit! What if that was my gynocologist? or someone I used to babysit?" And of course, I am drawing a complete blank.

This is getting embarrassing. Espectially because they all these people who know me from high school basically say that I look exactly the same, and I patently do not (hello, FIFTY pounds!!!!). I am guessing that looking thirty when you are actually 16 may have its benefits. Let's hope it carries over into my fifties.

So yeah, it's beginning to bother me that I can't remember names and associate them with faces. Is it just that I'm preoccupied, or do I have a brain tumor? And have I mentioned that Alzheimer's and senile dementia run in my family?

Perhaps you too will be able to recognize me in a few more decades. I will be the really young-looking old lady wearing all the sequins and a pair of bunny slippers, announcing loudly that the bed linens in the store window are "nipple pink!" While my minders discreetly try to bundle me back onto my Lark.

Reason 84 why I may be going to hell

I just saw this post over at SaraDru about those stick figures that people have on the back of their cars. You know the ones...three little girls, small medium, large, then a baby boy, complete with bunting, mom, dad...and occasionally the dog, cat, hedgehog, what have you.

I freaking hate those things. HATE them. And her post jogged my memory.

Secret Squirrel: What the hell is that on the back of the car?

JSQ: Someone has about 15 kids??!

We stare in disbelief.

Secret Squirrel: There's a figure floating in the middle.

JSQ: Oooookay people!

Secret Squirrel: Maybe it's Jesus!

We ponder this.

JSQ: It could be Jesus. I don't see a halo, though.

JSQ: Maybe they're a bigamist!

Secret Squirrel: I think it's Jesus. Seriously, it's floating in the middle of the back window above everyone's head. Wearing a robe.

JSQ: Are we really having this conversation?

JSQ: If you speed up, I can totally read the lettering.

JSQ: It's not Jesus. It says "Grandma".

Secret Squirrel: I don't believe this.

JSQ: Grandma is wearing a caftan.

Secret Squirrel: Why is Grandma floating in the air?

JSQ: There's not much room for her on the ground...that gang of stick figures takes up the whole bottom of the window.

JSQ: Maybe she's a hip grandma...she's crowd surfing.

Secret Squirrel: Hmmmm....or, Grandma could be dead.

JSQ: Dude, I hope not, because I think Grandma is driving that car.

H/R is not your friend.

I just read this soundbite at grrlgenius.com. (By the way, if you haven't checked out Cathryn yet...well, she is...a genius!)

H/R takes care of its own. They're not covering your ass, they're covering the company's ass. End of story.

At my last job, The Company Which Shall Not Be Named, I had a friend in the H/R department. She was a cool chick, nice, fun to hang out with. And MAN, could she dish up the hot goss. She knew who the married guys were cheating on their wives with. She knew that the girl in her own department who got fired? Got fired because she was skimming money out of the vending machines that was supposed to go to the "Employee Fun Fund". Oh, and for changing her status within the computer system, showing that she had paid for her portion of the health insurance. Which, in fact, she hadn't.

When our department went through a leadership change, things basically fell apart. The same source informed me that out new department head had worked for the company for over a decade, and she had previously been in charge of other departments. Both times, everything went to hell. Our department was the third try. Why, I don't know, but we all saw the writing on the wall. The new boss was a finger pointer and a blamer if things went wrong...but if we got accolades, they were all because of her.

First, the middle managers went to H/R. Then the graphic artists. Six months later, those middle managers and artists were gone, but the problem was still there, cheery, obtuse, and wearing really unflattering miniskirts. The men in our department were all favored over the women. She'd invite the guys into her office, shut the door, and joke and laugh with them. The women who were shut out would just sort of look at each other and shrug. Let's hear it for reverse sexism!

A few more months came by. My phone started ringing off the hook. I was getting requests from people I shouldn't even have been talking to...regional VP's, and their salespeople, who all wanted to know why they could never get my boss on the phone.

Things started heating up in the department. Mistakes were made on ad copy, and of course, the "minions" in my department were blamed- not the manager of the department, who had signed off on the proofs.

I went, not to H/R, but to my former boss, who was now working directly with the president of the company. He basically told me, bluntly, to get used to it, or get out.

I settled in for the long haul. I called H/R. Twice. And I never even got a call back.

Finally, someone upstairs noticed that our department had shrunk by 50 %. And they informed us that as soon as a suitable replacement was found, our fearless leader would be reassigned to her former duties. Which is a fancy way of saying "demoted."

Three months went by. Let me just say that having a boss who is irresponsible is bad enough. Having a boss who knows she's been demoted, and what else can they do to her? Oy vey.

At the six month mark, I finally bailed. My contacts inside the company tell me it took a year to replace her, and it's even worse now.

The company before that?

I worked there for two years without a blip. One morning, I was late to work. I had overslept! I made it in, and managed to pull it together and get things back in line before the start of the newscast.

My boss called me in, and I expected to be in trouble. And I acknowledge that I deserved to be written up.

I was suspended without pay for two weeks.

In contrast, a guy in the same situation? Was chronically late. I had never heard that he was ever penalized in any way for it, and in fact, he often wouldn't even make it in until after the news show had been airing for 30 minutes!

Talking to more women around the station, I came to realize that my boss (who once again, had been with the company for years) was notorious for penalizing women. Women also got slotted into more of the lower-paying jobs (like graphics) where men were encouraged to pursue camera work and jobs in the newsroom.

The worst part was, the bias was tacitly recognized among the higher-ups, but nobody ever did anything about it.

I thought about it. I had also been denied two week's vacation (for which I had the time on the books) to take my impending honeymoon. I had repeatedly asked for a full-time position, while working 50 hours a week, and was told that they could only guarantee me 39.5 hours, which didn't qualify me for full-time.

Yeah. I took my 2 weeks off, and found another job. I gave my notice the day I was supposed to be back at work.

When I went into H/R, the director hugged me and said, "I'm so sorry about this."

To this day, I wonder what exactly she meant by that.

Yeah, I changed it.

Let's face it, everything looks better in black.

Deal with the Devil

Cue fiddle music!

The Man is nearly done with his Business/Marketing degree.

I am really proud of him, and when he is done with school, it will be my turn to go back and finish my English degree and get my teaching credential.

So we are at this huge family shindig, and well...

I guess I would have enjoyed it more if we didn't feel like the poor relations.

My sister is a lawyer. My brother is in real estate. If we expand to extended family, you get a few major judges, a big time buisnessman or two, a few more lawyers, and a computer mogul. There are a smattering of teachers who are on the edge of retirement, married to the posessors of the aforementioned Big Impressive Jobs. They live in the Bay Area, they have vacation homes and brand new cars and designer clothes and timeshare condos in Hawaii. The younger ones all have kids. And they all look like they live at the gym.

My husband is in the military. I work with kids in a part-time capacity. We squeeze by every month, mainly because I quit my full-time job at The Company Which Shall Not Be Named, and because The Man's college education is freaking expensive. We have no kids. We're not into wine or gourmet meals. (They're nice, but not really a part of the big equation for us.) In short, we have nothing in common with most of these people.

Anyway. These people love me, and they don't intend to make me feel "small." And it pisses me off to no end that I couldn't just sit back and enjoy myself, without constantly comparing and analyzing everything.

There were moments that were awkward..."You've NEVER had a massage before?!!!" This was uttered in a tone like I had just swung in on a vine, wearing a loincloth.

There were moments that went beyond awkward to agonizing. Like the part where someone offered to sell me her three-year-old son, who was acting up, at a discount. It was one of those laughing things that mothers say because their kid is on their last nerve. I just sort of laughed and said, "Name your price!" in a jokey way. It was worse because I am sure her husband took her aside and talked to her afterwards, because she was visibly uncomfortable around me after that.

I guess I do have a point, and I am getting to it.

The Man was constantly asked if he was going to have to go back to the Middle East. They would thank him for all he did, thank me for giving up my husband for six months to defend our country. They's ask what was going on with us, so we'd tell them about his college, eventual job search, etc.

The Man has a job offer from a family member. However, it's a loaded proposition. We would have to to move to the Bay Area, but lodging is provided, which is a big part of the cost up there. The huge down side is that it's a trailer park, which we would have to live in. It bothers me more on the level that we already have a house, and I already feel like a "poor relation". Let's face it, there would be something of a stigma attached to it. And I am not sure how much I want to work for family. I worry that if we hate it, we couldn't just change our minds.

The upsides are huge too. Stigma or not, we would triple or quadruple our current income. This place may be a trailer park, but it has a fantastic location, with a view of the bay. SF is right there, and housing would be free, which means that we would be able to take care of our debts and have huge financial freedom in one fell swoop. Family would be close by, especially if my parents move to the Carmel house when they retire. We would be able to save money to buy our dream house fairly painlessly.

The more I look at the up and down sides, the main drawback (let's face it) is "What Will They Think?" Which is a crappy way to run your life. There is a lot of time to think things over, there are a bunch of details that we don't have yet.

Thw more I think about it...My main condition would be that we keep our house. I have so many friends here, and I am not giving up being a homeowner.

I know this is disjointed...I am just so incredibly conflicted, it is making my head spin!

I've got chills...they're multiplyin'

What the fresh hell is this?

I got to bed last night, and snuggled under my down comforter, and I was freezing. The Man had to bring in three more blankets, and we had the heat on in the house.

Yes, kids...I officially have the flu, and it looks like it's in tandem with a sinus infection.

Fan-freaking-tastic.

Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to bust out the trashy novels and the hot tea with lemon.

The Man, The Myth, The Laptop

Hey there....

Yes, you. The guy in the glasses. Yes, you...with the monobrow, and the flourescent pallor. The guy who probably lives in his momma's basement. The guy who is surfing the free internet at Starbucks, not typing, possibly playing WOW or browsing porn sites, and listening to every word we are saying?

You are staring. I am trying not to look back at you, which is hard because your eyes are glued. Hence the waving around of the wedding ring, in a fruitless attempt to discourage you. Your desperation is palpable from three tables away. Even when my friend and I start a conversation about how we loathe being stared at, you do not take the hint.

When I get up and go to the bathroom, you lean over and say, "Hi there", to my friend. She says "Hi" back, because she is polite. A creepy silence ensues until I get back. She does not introduce us.

We are finally so skeeved out that we leave. You follow right behind us. To be safe, we hang around outside the 'Bucks and wait for you to get into your car. You are watching us so intently, you back out in the wrong direction, and end up having to do a 32 point turn because you are facing a dead end instead of the parking lot exit.

EW! Ew ew ew ew ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

We then start quoting lines from Silence Of the Lambs at each other.

For example, "Are you about a size 14?" *heavy breathing*

"It puts the lotion on its skin, or else it gets the hose again!!"

Yeah, we are twisted like that.

Seriously, I am not sure if I looked hot today, or I had toilet paper stuck to my shoe. In addition to Leering Larry, I had two different groups of men abruptly stop talking when I waked past them today, which always makes me a little paranoid.

Hell has frozen over

More good news re: The Man

He is (very unexpectedly!)getting weekends off. REAL weekends, not the Tuesday/Wednesday thing we have been doing.

The guy who had Saturday Sundays off on his flight quit yesterday, and the guy who was next in line didn't want them. So The Man and I are now relishing the idea of being able to go out of town and spend time together...without the planets having to be aligned.

Don't get me wrong, we've worked around it for the last seven years. It's just when anyone has any kind of family function- parties, weddings, barbecues, clambakes, what-have-you- it is always on a weekend. Even when he gets time off, it can be revoked at a moment's notice. For example, we had the nnightmare scenario where he had to leave my brother's out-of-town wedding, right after the ceremony, to fill in for someone who called in sick. He was a groomsman. It was awful.

I am just thrilled that I get to prove to people who haven't seen The Man since our wedding, 5 years ago, that I actually HAVE a husband. Woo!

woohoo!

I got my Fratellis CD.

Evidently, I am easliy pleased.

Let the head-banging commence!

Another thing to woohoo about:

The Man has decided to stop "phoning it in" at work. He is going to take his test to become an officer early next month. Because maybe...MAYBE...it's not the entire military that he's sick of. Maybe it's just the job that he's been doing for the last ten years?

So- potentially more money, which is nice, because I am still working part-time. Also, happier husband who likes his job, which I am hoping and praying will be a result. It's a win-win!

Speaking of no longer phoning it in...The Man also has finally, FINALLY cut up the dead Christmas tree that has been reclining in our backyard since...well, Christmas.

If that's not a reason to celebrate...I don't know what is!

Rapscallions, pull up your pants!

Maybe I just find this so incredibly hilarious because I can't sleep?

Hello!

Hi to all the Grrl Geniuses!

I never realized that leaving an actual comment would make people wonder who I was. Hopefully, you are here because you find my comments to be well-thought out and insightful, and not because you're wondering who on earth this chick is who keeps spewing the dreck. So welcome!

Oh, and to that person who keeps finding me by Googling "1999 Chrysler Sebring + how to change battery".....it's behind the front bumper. Go ahead, ask me how I know.

The Fat

It is that time of the year. The year when we are all waging the war against The Fat. The magical time when Weight Watchers waives their membership fee. Most people have made the resolution to lose 10, 20, 100 lbs., whatever. Actually, statistically, most of those well-meaning New Year's resolutions have tanked by now.

By the way, I am embracing the word fat. It isn't a "four-letter word". I am reclaiming it, much like the words "gay" and "bitch" have been reclaimed over the years. Because, you know, fat isn't evil. It's been stigmatized over the years, and used as an insult, etc. But underneath it all, fat is just...well, fat. Some people might find it offensive, but there it is.

When I started this blog, it was supposed to be a "fascinating" portrayal of my weight loss, hence the name. I posted what I had for lunch every day, posted inches, posted weight loss and gain and possibly charted the phases of the moon, and then I realized that it was the most boring thing ever, and I just sort of abandoned it.

I went through a few more weight loss phases, one more just before Christmas, and then I had my infamous baby-related melt down, and I just stopped.

I am thinking about getting back on the horse again, but I am not sure how much I want to write about it here.

The thing is, all those goals for 2007 I was talking about? There's another that I hadn't shared, and it is this:

I am letting go of The Hate. The Hate of The Fat. The Hate for my body, and all the ways it isn't thin enough, or muscular enough, or smooth enough, or, let's face it, good enough, for me.

That's the thing. This is strictly MY problem. My husband has no quarrel with what I weigh or how my body looks. So that means that the problem lies with me and the media, and about 20 years of social programming.

I still intend to watch what I eat and exercise. But I also intend to buy clothes and do things that make me feel good about my body now. If I want a black satin shirt, I will buy it now, and not "when I lose 10 pounds." If I want a manicure, I will get one, not as a reward for a good weight loss week, but because I deserve it. Because I do deserve it, damn it!

I am going to be positive about The Fat. And I think that society is following suit, because in the last few weeks, there have been some bizarre corrolaries to my realization.

Last week, as I was driving to the store, I saw a teenaged couple, walking along together. The guy was a typical, cute, skinny, tall 15 year old- skater-ish fashion-wise. He reminded me a little of a puppy, when they are all head and tail and paws, right before they get that huge growth spurt.

The girl was around the same age, and was probably a size 16-18. She was wearing a really cute jacket and a scarf headband and she had on lipgloss and adorable boots and figure conscious jeans that hugged her and accentuated every curve.

As they went, they held hands, occasionally smacking at each other playfully, talking and laughing, and they only had eyes for each other.

Am I crazy? When I was that age, 15 to 20 years ago, that NEVER would have happened. EVER. First of all, the only clothes you could get as a plus-sized teen were the exact opposite of fashionable. You were lucky if you came home from the mall with a paisley caftan. Second, no boy your age would be caught dead in public with you.

Am I wrong? Am I remembering this incorrectly?

Maybe so, but every time I mention this to a friend, they treat it the same way- like I had been driving along, and just happened to spot a unicorn.

One of my best friends mentioned that she has put on weight, and her boyfriend seems to find her even more irresistable with her new curves. She sheepishly confessed that she's considering losing some weight, so maybe she can get some sleep!

And if anyone deserved it, it's her. I think her last boyfriend had a temper tantrum every time she would gain 5 pounds, and would say things like, "Why won't I bring you flowers? Let's see- if you lost weight, maybe I'd bring you flowers." Ouch.

Even more positive- The Golden Globes.

I was riveted. Not only were there the usual size zeros present...But usually, the only larger ladies that you'd see were Queen Latifah, and, well....that's it!
This year, there was America Ferrera. Jennifer Hudson. And Salma Hayek, who is not exactly plus sized, but is definitely curvier than the standard Hollywood frame, and she had the guts to wear white grecian-inspired drapery. They looked so lush and gorgeous standing up next to the stick thin starlets.

Anyway, it made me think. Maybe the rampant fat-hatred is dissipating? I certainly hope so. I think it's about time.

Do I look omnipotent to you?

Heading out to work yesterday, I pulled into the left hand turn lane behind a big white truck.

I sat, waiting for the light to change, and idly sipping my Diet Lipton Green tea (love. LOVE!) and enjoying the fact that it was Friday. I checked out the back tailgate of the white truck, and noted both the holy fish and the JesusFREAK bumper sticker. Well, that, and the fact that Mr. White Truck was in the turn lane, but he wasn't using his turn signal.

The light turned green. The truck didn't move. Okay...

I have a policy for horn usage. The thing is, my car horn isn't a peppy, delicate little beep! It seriously means business, and I have no control over the volume. Whether I tap it or punch it, it's loud no matter what.

So if someone is snoozing through a red light, I give them three seconds to respond before I use my horn. If you snooze for three seconds at a green light, and you aren't using your turn signal, I reserve the right to assume that you are too busy talking on your cell phone to notice what's up.

So, I honked. Heaven help me! Let the flailing begin!

The guy shot out into the intersection, and began making wild "WHAT?!!!" gestures in his rearview mirror, alternated with shaking his fist at me. He changed lanes (again without signaling) to get next to my car, and kept gesticulating angrily the entire time. Hello, road rage!

So I get into the turn lane to get on the freeway, and he screeched towards me and cut off another car, then swerved at my car like he was going to hit me on purpose.
He was going to make me fear for my life, because I had the audacity to HONK at him!

As he roared off, I held my bottle of green tea aloft in a jaunty motion. Which could be construed creatively as "Here's to you!" Although the expression on my face was probably closer to "Up yours!"

I didn't voice what I was thinking. But I totally wanted to scream out the window, "Hello, you hypocrite? JESUS can SEE YOU!!!"

Always Read The Label.

So, I went to SF this weekend (more on this tomorrow). First, I have something to get off my chest.

We went to Sephora. I spent way more than I intended to, which is what happens every time I go in there. Three bottles of nailpolish, Bare Escentuals foundation and concealer, a really cool eyeshadow palette- and then I remembered OH! yeah...I am out of eye/lip makeup remover. So I bought the store brand, which was a pretty good deal, I thought. I have had great experiences with the Sephora brand, and for eight bucks...well, how could I go wrong?



It wasn't until I got back to the hotel and tried out my new purchase that I realized I'd been had. At first I was thrilled, because it did indeed work like a charm on my waterproof eye makeup and all day lipstick. But...there was something really familiar about the smell and consistency, so I checked the label. One ingredient- petrolatum.

In case you don't know what petrolatum is?



Surprise!!!

I paid $8 for an OUNCE of Vaseline (but Vaseline made in France!) cleverly repackaged in a cute little tube. Considering that you can buy a 13 oz. tub of the stuff for $4.49 at CVS online...that's what? Like over 1000% markup? Great.

There are way too many dirty jokes possible here, so I am just going to let it go.

Tag! You're it.

Yes, I have been pretending that I didn't have all these blogs for awhile. Then I logged in, and I realized...Blogger now has TAGS. Bless you, Blogger!

So- I am probably not going to be maintaining three blogs, just one. Good old TMWA will likely be the one to stay put. The knitting and weight loss stuff will just be posted here under different tags, and then we can all live together in peaceful harmony. Or something.

Anyway, to quote the fabulous Tim Gunn: "Carry on! Make it work!"