Kinder, gentler

A plastinated human from Gunther von Hagens' Body Worlds

If I don’t include the horrible way I’ve been eating over the holidays, I’ve made some pretty excellent changes in the kinds of things that I eat, and was doing really well with going to the gym fairly regularly.

This is a slippery slope for me, because it kick starts some serious body-image obsession, and some not so healthy patterns of thinking. I’m consumed with guilt because I’ve been “bad”, even though it’s the time of year when everyone does this kind of thing.

I never weigh myself, but over the holidays I got on a scale, and though I was happy to see that I’ve lost about ten pounds since the last time I’d weighed in, I still have about ten to go before I’m happy with the numbers. Next, I will measure myself and compare to some earlier measurements.

Rather than feel proud of my success, I start to think about how I can axe those last ten pounds quickly. Anyone who knows anything about nutrition and health knows that there is no healthy way to quickly loose weight. I know this too, but sometimes I just don’t care.

I see photos of myself, and can see the difference, but all I fixate on is how much further I have to go before I’m satisfied.

New Year’s Resolution Number Two:

I will treat my body beautifully, and stop comparing myself to other women. Nutrition will be important, and exercise, and I will know that I look the way I’m supposed to because I am mindful of these two things. I will not do stupid things to myself for the sake of being smaller than I currently am. I’ll check in daily with my journal to keep myself on track – not weighing, measuring, or listing food that I’ve consumed, but writing about how I think and feel about my body.



Something is wrong with Toulouse. There’s nothing left to him. He’s all bones and clicky claws on the laminate floor. He’s light as a feather, and when he stares at me, which he always does, his eyes are huge and glassy: like Nicole Ritchie. He’s eating, and doing all other types of digestive things normally, and drinking water. I can’t figure it out, so we’re going to the vet on Saturday morning. Which means another two weeks before I get some good hair love at the Alcorn salon. Yes, I could go and get fabulous hair, but if my cat died in the meanwhile, how would I ever enjoy it? These are the sacrifices we make in these difficult economic times.

I’m trying to be careful, and frugal, and respectful with money. This doesn’t come naturally to me. In fact, it’s the top of my list of things that need serious work in the overall “path to fabulous” plan. But I’m working at it, and that’s the important part.

I have a strict budget, and a spreadsheet, and a grocery list, and friends if you want to see me, come over (please call first). I’ve decided to limit myself to one “night out” per week. This includes dining in restaurants, going to shows, checking out music.

This does NOT include drinks and pot luck, or board games, or girlie nights where we stage a poetry reading of our angsty teenage journals at your place or mine. Let’s be creative, y’all! The recession isn’t affecting me, let’s face it, but I’d like to whittle away at some debt, and I’m sure we could all benefit from finding smarter, cheaper ways to have fun.

This may be inspired by La Boheme. I saw the dress rehearsal at the COC last night. It was spectacular. If I’m going to live in a garret, I’m gonna live the Bohemian life, by golly! Who wants to start a creative writing group? Or a book club? Or a CD exchange collective? I challenge you all to think of a clever, creative way that costs next to nothing to enjoy yourself in the company of friends, that will possibly lead to meeting new people.

As I type this, and count every vertebrae on Toulouse’s spine, I am sincerely hoping he has worms. I never thought I would hope for such a thing, but anything else is unthinkable. Nobody was able to really tell me how old he was in July when I adopted him. He reminds me of Vincent Price, but I had hoped he still had a few good years in him. Maybe he’s getting ready for bikini season?