Archive for July, 2011

July 14, 2011


Ok, I don’t normally talk about my weight/body online. I stay out of wedding gown sizing discussions and body issue talks because I get the standard “you’re thin, your opinion doesn’t count” responses. I get it. It’s hard to believe that someone who is your opposite (in your eyes) can sympathize with you.

But let’s get real.

I’m 5’7″, I weigh anywhere between 125 and 135 depending on the time of the month, and I wear a size 4. At my heaviest (in high school) I was 165 lbs. At my lightest (due to massive illness and EXTREMELY dangerous) I was just under 100 lbs. I recognize and acknowledge that I am VERY blessed to have genetics pre-disposed to keeping me relatively thin. People repeatedly refer to me as “tiny”, but then are shocked to discover my clothes fit them.

I don’t use scales, but measure my shape by if my clothing fits or not. And when my body decided it was most comfortable to sit 5 lbs heavier than it did when I was 23 I just rolled with it.

At the same time … I have heavy thighs and hips that will definitely help with childbirth. When I put weight on, I generally do so between my knees and chest. Whatever, it’s how I do. I’m not EVER going to look good in a pair of leggings or skinny jeans, and that’s ok.

My husband is a runner. He’s currently training for a marathon. I think he’s crazy, but running’s his thing. Enough so, that it’s inspired me to start. Anyone who’s been over here knows my plan is to build up enough stamina to run a 10k the same day as his first marathon. Right now I’m only at day 2 of my learning-to-run quest, so it’s mostly walking. 30 seconds of running to every 4.5 minutes of walking, to be specific. Over the course of 50 minutes, that’s 3 miles. Not too shabby for only being on day 2, hmm?

Last night, I was on one of three treadmills in the “fitness center” of our apartment building. Both of the others were being used (it was an unusually busy night). About 30 minutes in, another girl comes in. She’s clearly a runner (complete with some college’s track team shorts). She spends the next 20 minutes sighing and glaring at me. When I finished my workout and got off the treadmill she immediately came up to me and said:

“Look, you fat bitch. If you’re just going to be walking the whole time you don’t deserve to take up a treadmill for so long. Your fat ass can walk somewhere else.”


I’m sorry. What?!

The guy who’d been running next to me stopped his treadmill and looked like he was about ready to throttle her. I responded:

“Sweetheart, you don’t know the FIRST thing about me. I’d appreciate it if you’d just continue your workout without bothering anyone.”

She continued to get in my face, repeatedly calling me “fat” and “bitch” (she was barely 5 feet tall and probably weighed about 100 lbs). I shook my head at her, picked up my water bottle, and left.

And then cried telling the husband about it.

WHAT. THE. EFF. is wrong with people? Where is this sense of entitlement and I’m-better-than-you mentality coming from? Where have we, as a society, gone so far off the mark that people think it’s OK to berate someone for making them wait, or because of how they look? It saddens me that people seem to be lacking basic decency, and disgusts me that we have a society that will continue to tell those people they are right in whatever they do. Lord, look at Jersey Shore. These kids have made HUGE names for themself by having gaudy fashion sense and being asshats to everyone outside their little group.

I need to make clear here, I am not taking what she threw at me as the truth. I know that no matter how stupid I looked in those workout pants (heavy thighs after all), I am not fat. I cried because it was flat-out mean. And it’s made me a little skittish around people, for fear of another confrontation.

What people keep seeming to miss is that we’re all in this TOGETHER. With encouragement and support instead of ridicule and malice, we can get so, so far.

So, who out there can relate in some way? Let’s open it up. Weight. Fitness. Confrontation. Perception. Who has something to share?

July 13, 2011


You guys, you guys!! Guess what!

Remember how I told you my apartment building was awesome? Or rather that management was awesome? Here’s an example.


This lovely, old piece of equipment has served me well for a while … but recently decided it wanted to heat up 50-75 degrees hotter than I told it to. Which is not so great for the baking of cookies, and flat-out dangerous if I turn it up anywhere past 400.

Well, I reported it to management over the weekend. And look how they responded!


RIGHT?! Hooray brand new stove!! Let’s look at them side by side, strictly for comparison purposes:



Of course, I had to bake to try it out…


Oh, yes … it works. Liz has suggested a bake-off. Consider this my first entry.


* Seriously though, who’d have thought I’d get so much joy out of a new major appliance? Apparently, we’re getting old. ::winks::

July 12, 2011

Here and There

SO! Summer is upon us! And for some reason, this summer is travel heavy for me. Me, the broke one. What?

May, of course, was the big trip back to California to see the baby … done and done.

June/July, of course, was Texas to see Alyssa and Rachelle, and attend the wedding … done and done.

The rest of July I’m pretty much just sitting pretty … or, you know, dying for rest. A couple friends are coming into town this weekend, but that should be pretty low-key, as they’re only here for 2 days, and most of it is either eating or church people.  The boy’s birthday is on the 30th, so that’ll take some prep, and DEAR LORD, that’s only 2 weeks away. How is July half gone already?!

And then there’s August. Oh, August. Seems to always be the busiest time for me. Last year we, uh, got married. This year is looking to be PACKED. Traveling at least 2, probably 3, of 4 weekends. Getting the boy ready for his LAST SEMESTER AT SCHOOL (thank you, Jesus). Trying to keep our home in some semblance of order. All while being in the midst of budgeting at work. Whee!

But none of that is FUN. Let’s focus on the weekends away.


FIRST WEEKEND OF AUGUST I will be in New York! Yay!

A wonderful friend (who also happens to be an amazing singer and fabulous actor) is workshopping a new off-Broadway musical, and they’ll open it up that first weekend. I, of course, will be there. SO. That means I’ll probably be coming up Friday evening and leaving Sunday afternoon. See the show Saturday night. Hang with the friend if at all possible.

SO – who wants to come see this show with me? From what he tells me, it’s a comedy with fantastic music … and he plays, in essence, the damsel in distress. Apparently at one point he’s standing in the middle of the stage whimpering as a fight happens all around him. Should be fun!

And who wants to get food and/or bum around the city?

Where I’m staying is up in the air as of yet, so I’m open to suggestions there as well. =) 


THE SECOND WEEKEND OF AUGUST is our 1st anniversary! Squee!

No one’s invited to that one. Sorry. ::winks::


THE THIRD WEEKEND OF AUGUST I will be in New York! Again! Woo hoo!

Ya’ll know about this one. The APW Mass Reception for Marriage Equality! (If you have no clue what I’m talking about go HERE.) Which appears to be on a Thursday night … so, um … let’s work on getting time off work, ok?

If all works out as planned, we seem to have a carpool heading up from DC, and a place to stay. Now, let’s find fun dresses, yes? I recommend this place. =)

Who’ll be there? Who will be in the area, but not at the reception? Who wants to get together? Who just wants me to shut up? ::winks::

What am I forgetting??*


Oooh … this is going to be SO. MUCH. FUN!


* Oh, right. The 4th weekend of August. The 4th weekend I SLEEP!

July 11, 2011

Who Goes To Texas Anyway?


Apparently no one can see my ramblings when I DON’T.  HIT. PUBLISH.

And here I was all weekend thinking no one liked me. ::headdesk::



SO! There was a weekend! It was what one would refer to as a FULL weekend. Full of awesome, that is! (And bug bites. Those weren’t so awesome.) Enough chatter though, let’s dive right in:

I suppose the shenanigans started when I got home from work on Wednesday, and a lovely package from Rent the Runway had arrived … bearing the sexy little dress you all helped me with! Whee!

Or almost. The dress, dear ones, was too small. No problem, they always send two sizes! Um … nope. The second one was too BIG. Well crap. So, after digging out my wedding bra (you know, the backless (aka full fronted corsety) one) and a pair of control top pantyhose, and a good 30 minutes of conferring with Miss Lauren, I downgraded from “too small” to “the tightest dress I’ve ever worn in my life.”

Game on.

Thursday flies by, and I’m on a plane to Atlanta (hi Georgia!) and then Houston (hi HEAT AND HUMIDITY). The first flight went as you hope all flights do and was completely uneventful. The second flight however … screaming baby? Check.* Drunken idiot? Double Check.** Needless to say, it was a fun flight.

I land, and my adventures with bugs begin. Potato bugs that fly directly into my face? Nice welcome, Texas. I don’t think we are going to be friends. I eventually get assigned my car (with a free GPS system? Don’t mind of I do!) and head off to find a bed. Took about an hour, but I finally got to the apartment and crashed out.

Friday morning it was off to see Rachelle! Who is even more fabulous in person than on the interwebs, so people? Make her your friend. Seriously. Oh, and she manages to somehow stay looking cool and unruffled in the face of 98 degree + 80% humidity weather (yes, I checked as I was melting), so clearly she’s a goddess and we must learn her secrets. We had a delicious lunch, and then headed to get our nails done. Let me tell you … that pedicure was HEAVEN. Even if I did look like this at one point:

Yes, that would be scorchingly hot towels and plastic baggies. The baggies were full of paraffin wax, so it was WORTH IT. My feet have never been happier. Oh, and the pedicure hasn’t chipped, even a week later. Woot!

So lunch and mani/pedis took longer than expected, so I had to rush when I got back to the apartment. You guys are amazing, and gave me some FABULOUS advice when it came to styling said sexy dress …  so here’s what I did: The hair was done in big curls, and gathered into a pony over my left shoulder (this helped with the neckline-that-was-not-designed-for-a-small-chested-girl, too!), with one curl wrapped around the hair band. Rock on. Took about 10 minutes, and looked GREAT. Sadly, I didn’t get a picture of it until the end of the night, so it had mostly fallen, but you’ll have to take my word for it. Dark eyes, false lashes, light lips, black pashmina, and bronze strappy shoes. I. FELT. HAWT.

Apparently I looked it, too. Upon arriving to the ceremony, the security guys offered to give me a ride to the chapel (which was all of 50 yards away). The girls serving dinner asked where I got the dress. And my favorite … one of my college friends looking me over and saying “Good LORD, Sarah.” Then he turned to a friend and said “Rob*** is an IDIOT.”

Total victory.

So, the wedding. It was … awkward. The bride grimaced at me as she walked down the aisle. The groom sang the processional (he has an AH-MAZING voice) and made me cry with his vows. The pastor’s entire message was on the dangers of divorce (um, on the nose much?). The bridesmaids beamed. Not one of the groomsman cracked a smile. The bride looked  smug the entire time.

Well then.

The reception, however, was a blast. I was sitting with college friends & some of the groom’s other friends, and we started the drinking immediately. And telling shameless stories. And the boys at one point decided to “dance”:


I’m not quite sure where the red sunglasses came from, but I do know that I was wearing them at one point. And that I drunkenly taught Steve (the one in the vest) to moonwalk later in the evening. Like you do.

The bride and groom went through all the formalities and traditions:


(Side note … I LOVE the photo of the mother-son dance. It was too cute in person. He was singing to her and she was just overjoyed. I may or may not have teared up.)

All in all, a lovely evening. Even with the awkward. I DID remember to grab a photo with the groom, though! It’ll go in my collection of J-and-I-look-toasted photos. We have them dating back to 1998. It’s AWESOME. And it goes nicely with the photo we took at my wedding:


I managed to earn myself an invite to the day-after brunch (by catching the bride at a moment where she’d asked 3 family members if she’d “see them tomorrow” … at which point she looked FURIOUS with herself when she said it to me), so I put on my best I’m-a-good-Christian****-girl outfit (maxi dress with a cardigan) and went to … oh right, booze it up.

You guys, I spent 4 hours schmoozing with the bride’s parents and aunt, chatting with the groom’s family (who are basically family to me at this point), and HITTING THE BRIDE OVER THE HEAD with congrats and smiles and helpful actions and so on. I even offered to take photos of them opening their gifts:


Which of course would not have been complete without a little bit of goofiness from the groom:


I heart that boy.

Anyway, as I was leaving, I overhear the bride’s mother say to her, “She’s such a nice girl. You and J are so lucky to know her.”


Giggling, I drove away from their beautiful new home*****:


And began my drive up to see Alyssa!! 3 hours and 12 minutes (in other words, DAMN GOOD TIME), I was sitting in her lovely home. With Maggie the Wonder Dog (who I nearly stole, she was so cute) sneaking over to lick my toes. And sneeze on me. Which was hilarious, and not nearly as mortifying as Alyssa says.

You guys … we had SUCH. A. GOOD. TIME. We ordered pizza, made margaritas, and talked. Woke up the next morning and talked. Watched Toddlers & Tiaras (the HORROR!!) and the Tonys and Doctor Who (well maybe that was just me), and talked. Ate fabulous foods at Babe’s and talked. Went to the mall (what else do you do when it’s so hot outside AND a holiday weekend (with holiday sales!)??) where she helped me pick out this fabulous shirt and necklace:


Full disclosure: I’m wearing it again today. In a different way, of course, but it is dangerously close to becoming my go-to for, oh, every day wearing.

After our shopping extravaganza (a shirt, a dress and a necklace? SCORE!) we headed back to the house, where we talked. And found (sadly) sub par Chinese food. Made more margaritas. And talked. And talked. And talked. Seriously, it was like BOOM, INSTANT FRIENDS, let’s tell our whole life stories!

The next morning there was this deliciousness:



After yet MORE talking, I packed up and headed out … back down to Houston (3 hours 42 minutes this time! Still damn good time.) to catch my flight home. Which was only remarkable for the size of the planes:


The first one (from Houston to Philly) held 100 people. The second, 20. Yep, 20 people. US Airways Express = Puddle Jumpers R Us. But it DID enable us to fly low enough to see the fireworks shows going off all over the country. ::grins::

Safely home a few hours later I quite nearly passed out before making it to my bed.

It was a fantastic weekend. =)

And thus we complete the LONGEST WEEKEND RECAP EVAR. Feel free to have a nap. =)


* I’ve never felt bad for the parent of the screaming baby until now. Poor mother was walking up and down the aisle, trying to calm her baby, almost to the point of tears herself. =(

** 2 of them. In my aisle. I fell asleep at one point, only to be woken up later by kicks coming from the guy SITTING NEXT TO ME. They were loud and fidgety the whole time … probably what kept the baby awake, now that I think about it. Oh, and they decided to toss their empty mini-vodka bottles in my bag. I found them later. Asshats.

*** The ex I dated all through college. He roomed with a lot of the groomsmen.

**** Or rather, the bride’s family’s definition of a “good Christian” ::shudders::

***** WHO has a house like this directly after getting married?! I’m so jealous it’s insane.

July 7, 2011

Sometimes We Don’t

Oh man … has it really been a week? Oops.

Full recap of the weekend … the wedding, the visiting, the dog sneezes, the fireworks … coming tomorrow. With photos, of course. Because I love you.

Alright, let’s get to it.

So I wrote yesterday, RIGHT on the heels of a rather heated (well, for me) argument. Decided not to post it until I cooled down. Let me just say … SMART DECISION. There’s no need to post in the middle of angry time. It just leads to trouble.

Long story short, Tuesday night the husband wrecked his bicycle (wasn’t wearing a helmet – IDIOT), fought me on the going to the hospital issue, and finally ended up with a stern talking to (from the doctor, about the lack-o-helmet), 2 staples in his head, a newly scrubbed arm (road rash is a nasty thing), a clean CT scan, and one hell of a headache. Oh, and a field sobriety test at 3am, per doctors orders (yah, he was REALLY happy I woke him up. Gotta watch out for those brain injuries!).

Now, Tuesday was supposed to be my first full night’s sleep in my own bed in 5 days. Clearly, that didn’t happen, but I wasn’t fussed … he was hurt and needed to be taken care of, right? Right. The trouble started the next morning.

He’s tired. He hurts. The staples are pulling his hair. And this is my fault, for making him go the hospital. He doesn’t WANNA take medication for the hurt. Leaning back so I can wash his hair around the staples (that can’t get wet) is UNCOMFORTABLE. I’m doing this on purpose. He doesn’t see the need to hurry and just wants to take the train, and I’m the bad guy for insisting on driving (he is on a 24 hour concussion watch after all). He’s generally pissed off and snarky, because his head hurts. We argue. I cry.


It is incredibly hard to remain sympathetic to someone when they are being a royal brat. I wanted to be able to push it off as he’s-doing-this-because-he-hurts, but it’s HARD! I feel taken advantage of, and under-appreciated, and everything that goes along with it … and that’s never a good situation. I wonder if he felt like this when I broke my arm, but remember that I was upset when he DIDN’T help me, and only grateful when he did. But I WAS bratty. Big time. (I blame the drugs.) And having someone you’re worried about be a brat to you? Terrible freaking feeling. Terrible.

And then there’s last night. He comes home, and wants cuddles and attention and loves and to be taken care of. He apologizes for being a dick to me, and admits he hurts and feels like crap. We soothe each other for a while, and then head to sleep. This morning he thanks me for washing his hair. And doesn’t complain, even when I accidentally pour a cup of water right in his ear while rinsing. (Oops.) He’s kind and supportive, and humors me when I desperately need to take care of him, for my own sake.

Ah married life. I imagine this is what yo-yos must feel like.