Thursday, January 26, 2006

I need a belt and some sensible shoes

Ok, so I've been going to the gym like a mad woman, and have been eating well about 5-6 days of the week, and I've lost a few pounds. I'm happy; really, I am. So don't get me wrong, but I need to complain for a little bit here.

I have no sense of style, and really never have. Once upon a time, when I was at my goal weight for about 8 and a half days, I think I looked good. But that's only because when you can squeeze into a size 10 pair of pants that make your ass look good, you don't mind paying $50 for them, when normally you never go above your "$20 or less" rule for any single item.

Note: I just re-read that paragraph, and a few things jumped out at me.
1. Yes, size 10 is my goal size. Screw you, skinny people.
2. I know $50 is probably not even a lot for a good pair of pants, but it is when you're used to the "$20 or less" rule.
3. The "$20 or less" rule is probably the root of my problem. No wonder I look like Pat from SNL.

But seriously, I feel like the androgyny queen (or king?). I've been trying on clothes all morning. I have two pair of khaki's that fit, but are a little bit too big. I didn't think they looked that bad until I turned around to check my ass, and it looked like I pooped my pants. Instead of hugging the curves of my womanly bottom, the pants just kinda hung off my ass like they were holding my morning dooker. I figured I could try on a pair of my "skinny" pants since my regular pants were too big. I tried on a pair of jeans that were borderline flattering. You know the type-- if you suck in your gut and strike a pose, you look hot, but as soon as you exhale, you're looking at camel toe, gut eruption over the waistline, and you feel the immediate need to pluck your panties out of your ass crack. No thanks. I checked the tag to see what size they were. I would have been psyched if they were a 14, and I would've been ok with them being a 16, but when I looked at the tag, it said "35 x 30". Oh my gosh, I'm wearing MEN'S jeans! No wonder I look like Pat. Come to think of it, this button-down flannel shirt isn't that flattering either. As my cousin Jane would say, all I need is a belt and some sensible shoes.

So. What do I do in the meantime? Spend $50 on a nice pair of size 16 pants that will look good for a month before I need to retire them to the Poopy Pants Pile? Do I just go with the dyke look until I'm hot enough to become feminine again? I'm welcome to ideas if anyone has them.

Friday, January 20, 2006

Kill Your Television

Remember my New Year's Resolution to not watch more than 5 hours of TV per week? That was the best New Year's Resolution I've ever made. Here's what I've been doing for the past 20 days:

1. Going to bed early
2. Getting up without the alarm (most days) and going to the gym
3. I've lost almost 15 pounds
4. Watching LOST on Wednesdays and loving every freakin' minute of it

Last night I watched Four Kings for the first time. It was ok, but I'd rather be sleeping. Plus, they showed the same stupid commercial at EVERY. SINGLE. BREAK. And, The Office wasn't even funny. I'm hoping it was just a bad episode, and it's not me losing my sense of humor. Is it me, or does it smell like updog in here?

I might just start watching TV shows on DVD's. I added all eleventeen discs of the first season of 24 to my netflix queue. Sure, anti-TV purists might argue that this violates my resolution, but my rule all along was that movies don't count, and since this is coming from Netflix, it's ok.

I don't miss American Idol. In fact, I'm not even tempted to watch a single bad audition. I think my mother is right. Maybe that show is only for thirteen year old girls.

Now if I could just finish the book that Jane lent to me on the 4th of July, I'd really feel like a genius.

Saturday, January 07, 2006

Worst Date Ever

This post is inspired by the The Office. Remember that episode when they had to evacuate the building because of the fire alarm, and they were standing the parking lot swapping Worst Date stories? Well, here's mine.

It was my junior or senior year of college. I was sorta seeing this guy from UNH. "Sorta seeing" means that we hooked up a few times, but didn't even really talk on the phone or go out on actual dates or anything. The first time I met him, I was at Melissa's dorm room and he was there. Then I went home with him, which translates to walking across the campus from one dorm room to another. He was really sweet. He serenaded me on our walk to his dorm room with a lovely rendition of "Try to Remember" from the Fantastiks. Once inside his dorm room, I was completely smitten. What can I say; I tend to fall easily for the musical type. (And then I get to know them and realize they're all pompous jerks with illusions of grandeur. Or, in this case, gay.) Another of the few times I saw him was when I drove to UNH with my mom to see him star in a play. I should have seen the warning signs then when he was wearing makeup and singing. Or when he was making out with that dude backstage. But then Valentine's Day rolled around and he came to my apartment in Boston with a bottle of wine and a backpack full of sleepover clothes. Seemed straight to me!

But then, The Worst Date happened. He was staying at his dad's house in Salem, MA and invited me up for the night. I must not have had a car at the time, because I took the T from Brighton to Salem, MA. Now, for anyone familiar with the Boston T system, you know it's hard enough getting from Boston to Cambridge via the T on a weekday, let alone getting from the city to a freakin' suburb on a Saturday. I took the B line to Haymarket (1 hour, 20 minutes) and then waited for a bus (45 minutes), and then got on the bus and eventually made it to his stop in Salem (close to 2 hours - mainly due to the fact that the bus stopped every 50 feet in Lynn.) I think I got to his place just before dark. Despite the 4 hour journey, I kept telling myself it was going to be worth it. He was sweet! He was charming! He had a voice like an angel! I don't remember much about what happened at all, but I think that's because nothing happened. We didn't watch a movie, we didn't eat dinner, we didn't listen to music, we probably didn't even have a conversation. I have a vague memory of him showing me some book, but that's really all I can remember until bedtime. Ah, yes, bedtime! Maybe he'll make up for it now, I thought. We got into bed, layed down side by side, and he held my hand. Sounds nice enough, right? Except that's all that happened. Hand holding. I spent half a day on public transportation and the other half pretending to be interested in some book so you can hold my hand under the covers? Gah!

But wait, it gets worse. The next morning, I was getting ready to leave. I forgot to bring the Sunday bus schedule with me, so I had no idea when or if the bus would come to get me. I packed up my shit, said my goodbye, and left. I walked down the driveway to the bus stop, which was right outside his house. It wasn't awkward enough to have a hand-holding sleepover party, but now I needed to sit outside his living room window on the side of the road? No thanks. So, I started walking. I walked, and I walked, and I walked. No bus ever came. Eventually, I saw signs for the Swampscott commuter rail station, so I followed those signs. I walked, and I walked, and I walked. By now, I was off the bus route, and who knows how far from the commuter rail station. I had no other option but to keep on walking. This was long before every idiot had a cell phone, and the route that I was walking on was a residential route, so there weren't even any payphones. Finally, about 3 hours later, I made it to the Swampscott commuter rail station. Luckily, they had a schedule posted on their platform, and I only had to wait about 45 minutes for the next train. Waiting for 45 minutes seemed long when I was at Haymarket the day before, but after walking for 3 hours through the quiet streets of Salem and Swampscott, I wasn't about to complain about sitting for 45 minutes. The train finally came and took me back to North Station (1 hour), and then I took the green line back to Brighton (1 hour, 30 minutes) and finally I was home. I logged on to my computer when I got home, and this part I remember perfectly:

.t lennon I just got home
Lennon tells you > Why did it take you so long?
.t lennon Because the bus never came so I ended up walking to the swampscott commuter rail station
Lennon tells you > That's not a short walk at all!*
.t lennon ya I know
Lennon tells you > I had my dad's car, I could have driven you there if I knew you planned to take the commuter rail home

And that was the last time I ever had any contact with him.

Moral of the story: Do not fall for a guy who serenades you with showtunes.

* This line is verbatim. I remember it perfectly because it won the "understatement of the year" award.