It's that time of year again when commercials on television and ads in magazines turn their focus on promoting self-hate in women. Not that they aren't focused on that throughout the year, but when Summer approaches, they amp it up. You MUST look hot in your bikini for crying out loud. And you know what? It's okay to stop wearing a bikini, ladies. Just wear what's comfortable. If it's a bikini, more power to you. I'm just saying that there are other options.
Everywhere I look, there are advertisements for anti-cellulite creams and quick fix work out regimes to get "thinner thighs in just 20 seconds a day." Satisfaction guaranteed. Oh, and I love this picture. In the before picture she is clearly squeezing her ass cheeks to get that rippled butt appearance and in the after picture she's all relaxed. But they claim that it has to do with the cream and the rubbing and the..................
Bullshit.
There are no miracle creams. There isn't a work out you can do that will focus on just reducing your thighs alone. There is no such thing as spot reduction. Diet and exercise. DIET AND EXERCISE, dammit!
I know all of this intellectually and yet........every year I think, "Hmm, that's new. I wonder if that really works?" One year I bought this anti-cellulite cream and thigh scrubbing device. You know what it did? Nothing. SHOCKING!! The scrubber left my legs red for like an hour after I used it and that's it.
Upon closer inspection of this anti-cellulite cream, I noticed that in small print it said, "Will reduce the appearance of cellulite." Not that it disappears, but that you won't be able to see it under the big red welts that will appear after you scrub the shit out of your thighs. So now I get it. And even though I want to reach for the phone when I see these commercials, I know it's just another way to promote self-loathing in women.
It's cold and rainy and normally that would "dampen" my spirits. But not today. I'm a bundle of energy and just whizzing around the place. Much to the delight of my co-workers. Or at least that's how I've chosen to take their glares and hateful half-grins. "Why are YOU so happy?" they say feigning interest. I just say, "I don't know. Just happy for no reason." I practically have to dodge the daggers shooting from their hate-filled eyes.
I wonder how it feels to be mad at people cuz they're happy. I don't think I've ever done that. I mean I can remember a time when Ian and I were very newly in love. He was in England for a year and I was in New Orleans. It was torture to be so far away from him. When I would see couples walking hand in hand, smiling and gazing at each other I secretly wished them harm. But I didn't really mean it. But WHY did they have to flaunt it in front of me? Didn't they know that my love was far far away? How cruel.
Maybe this is what's going on for my co-workers when they hate my happy. Maybe they're thinking, "Why does she flaunt her happiness? Doesn't she know how miserable I am? And that I breed misery as my companion? Not this happy flitty beast!" Now I get it. Just had to walk through their feelings to understand it.
I'm still all happy though. So there! Neener Neener Neener!
Last night we went to see the Yeah Yeah Yeah's at Bottom of the Hill. We see them again tonight at Great American. I'm glad we bought tickets for both nights cuz last night ROCKED! The singer has a raucous voice and attitude and is absolutely amazing. She is up there owning that stage. No insecurity or self-consciousness whatsoever. I couldn't take my eyes off her.
The only time I wasn't staring at the singer was when some stupid patrons decided to push through the crowd and squeeze in front of me. Then they proceeded to dance around as if they were in an empty club. This girl was bashing into me as if that's what you do. There is "sardine crowd" etiquette, people. She and her grotesque date were bumping and grinding on each other. I mean, I remember my first trip on ecstasy, but come on. Go home and take nude photos of each other. Don't have foreplay with each other on MY leg!
I had the most fun sewing yesterday. My mother in-law gave me a very cool Giants shirt which I proceeded to cut up and make into a really cool halter tank. AND it's wicked cute. I can't believe I did it. My own design. I started thinking of all the possibilities. Tracy Miller designs. What do you think? Or Redhott designs. Hmmmmmm, I like it.
When I was a kid, Easter meant a new dress and new shoes.............for church. And that usually meant that my mother would help pick it out. Which could only lead to froo froo lacy wrongness. But the worst part was getting my ass kicked after church by my fellow tom-boys. And I deserved it for letting my mother guilt me into wearing a hideous ruffled dress.
But the good part was always the Easter basket. My mother would hide our Easter baskets around the house. We would wake up early on Easter Sunday and run around the house like crazy Tasmanian Devils, papers and clothes littering our wake. And then EUREKA!! Candy and more candy. When we were extremely poor, the basket would consist of only the broken over-cooked, badly colored eggs that we had dipped and decorated the night before. They smelled terrible but we ate them because it was Easter and that's what you do.
It's kind of confusing that a bunny delivers eggs and candy. Why not the Easter Hen? And the Easter Willy Wonka? Eh, why question a holiday that encourages the eating of sugar? Ain't nothin' wrong with that. I say, bring on the peeps and the chocolate bunnies and the boiled chicken fetus. Eat till your bellies bulge and overheat. God bless us........everyone.
I'm so tired, I can barely keep my eyes open. I'm gonna have to prop them open with toothpicks. Or those clamps they use during Lasik surgery. Mother fuckin' YAWN, bitch!
I didn't work out last week and have only worked out once this week. I will be working out the next two days, though. It's called "periodizing." So that your body doesn't plateau. You do the laying off for a week every now and then and it's really good for your progress, strangely. But as a result, I'm tired. Now ain't that about a bitch? You would think that pushing yourself in a rigorous week of workouts would be tiring, but it turns out that when you don't work out, THAT'S when you get all sluggish.
So, Sunday night my rock star was playing a show. It was an all ages show. There were children everywhere. I've never felt so old in my life. Well, not until the end of the show when this happened:
Ian was playing pinball and I was sitting on a stool behind him. We were holding and hugging and nibbling on each other after each pinball sunk. Oblivious to the crowd around us. Then Ian had to "load out" and I stayed on my stool. Loading out is what band members say when they have to put their equipment in the van or other vehicle after the show. I was schooled about this one time when I mistakenly called it "unloading the equipment." So, just in case you needed to know that......
Anyway when Ian left, this girl ran over to talk to me. I hadn't noticed her before but apparently she had been observing us.
Teenager: Is that like your boyfriend?
Me: (nod and smile) Husband.
Teenager: (shock and awe) Oh my god. That's like SO adorable.
Me: (RED in the face) Thanks.
Teenager: Is it hard for you when girls throw themselves at him because he's on stage?
Me: If it was a problem for him, it would be a problem for me. But it isn't, so no.
Teenager: Wow. I mean, Oh my GOD!! That is just SO adorable.
Luckily Ian came back about that time and the girl was so afraid of the power of the ROCK that she ran away. I told Ian and we got a good laugh. Ian's exact words were, "Dood, you HAVE to blog that."
I just got back from a nice lunchtime workout. While I was in the locker room, minding my own business, I kept hearing this saliva based smacking/snapping noise. It was making my mouth water, the kind of saliva that's lubricating your throat in preparation for a violent throw up. You get me?
The offender was a smallish woman. She was snapping her chewing gum. Mouth agape.
When I was a little girl, this beautiful teenage girl at my church used to snap her gum. I thought she was like the coolest girl, EVER. So, I would go home and sit in my room and practice the snapping. You have to fondle the gum with your tongue to get it to form a little bubble before you chew. You have to do this very fast in order to snap the gum at each chomp. When I finally figured it out, I decided to debut my new "coolness" to my family. I went into the living room. Or rather, I strutted into the living room. Smacking and snapping. My whole family started to stare at me in disgust. My Dad said, "You enjoying that gum?" I did it. I was cool and he knew it. Then in the next breath he said, "Sure sounds like it. KNOCK IT OFF!!"
The moral of that story is that my Dad really doesn't want to hear you snapping and smacking your fucking gum, so........KNOCK IT OFF.
I'm tired this morning. So tired that I couldn't pull my lazy-ass out the bed to go to yoga class at 6AM. Maybe cuz my body thought it was 5AM. This is the time of year that I love. After I'm on track with the time, that is. It should only take a few days and then I'll be golden.
It's so wonderful to go home after work and have at least three more hours of sunlight. That three hours sometimes feels like a whole extra day. I get so much done. I go out more. I am seemingly happier.
And then I am reminded of all the colossalmistakes the U.S. Troops are making every day and I feel kicked in the gut.
Now I'm pissed!! This war is fucking with my Spring joy. I can go back into my denial of world events on Friday when I go to my first Giants game of the season. I LOVE baseball and I especially love the Giants. Benito! Benito!
I'm the most immature 39 year-old that I know. Not that I know too many. My friends are all way younger than me. Don't know why. Hmmm.
Anyway, I was looking up a word on the wonderful Merriam-Webster site when I came across a fun little tool. Beside the word that you look up is a megaphone thingy. If you click on it, a computerized male voice says the word aloud for you to hear the pronunciation.
So I promptly put in the word VAGINA and clicked on the megaphone. When the guy said, "Vagina," I lost it. I practically fell out of my chair in hysterics.
I think my age level in times like this should be 9 instead of 39. Don't you?
Here's the deal. I watch American Idol. There, I've said it. Last season was way better than this season. I really cared about the outcome last time. This time? Not so much. But still, I can't stop watching it. I'll admit something even more humiliating. Last season when Kelly Clarkson won and she was trying to get through A Moment Like This, I sobbed.
Wow, I feel so much better. I'd been hiding my crazy love for this show for too long. You all deserve to know who you're dealing with here. All two of you.
This season, I really enjoyed the first few episodes when they were just auditioning fools. I never laughed so hard. My favorite parts were when Simon was telling everyone the truth in his own way. And that's still what I'm enjoying. He tells the truth and the other judges are just sucking up. But why? Why do they care? Are they trying to look good for the public or are they concerned about the contestants' feelings? If it's the latter, that's fucked. The contestants need to improve and can't benefit from the false praise. That will only hurt them in the long run.
Last night, Simon told Ricky that he sounded like someone performing at a "children's party." This was true but the crowd boo'd him. And then he told Clay that he was awful. Again, true. In my opinion, up to this point in the competition, Ruben is the only keeper. Maybe Kimberly Locke as well. Too bad America will vote them off before too long. The reason? Because they are over weight. I hope I'm wrong. I fear I am not.
Anyway, I love Simon. He's spot on every freaking time. Except maybe for his Carmen obsession. He just knows that she has the "look" of a pop idol. Not so much the chops. So, I guess I don't always agree with him. But when he's being honest, I totally agree.
And then there's Corey Clark. Thank fuck he was caught lying about his past. Cuz he SUCKED but fucking Paula loved him and for some reason, so did the fans. Weird.
I would like to thank my friend Lina for encouraging me to confess my dark secret on this page. Thanks, Lina! Mucho love to you.
Monday, April 28, 2003
