Monday, August 31, 2009

It's Over

I survived and it's finally over. Even though I haven't been able to walk without limping like an old woman, and even though my feet and ankles are swollen to the point that I can't put regular shoes on, I'm happy. Happy that it is OVER!

Last week I participated in my company's annual international convention. This means I was working over at the Salt Palace convention center from Tuesday to Saturday. This means I was working 14 hour days (sometimes longer). This means, I was on my feet for 14 hour days walking, talking, stocking shelves, and just flat out participating in helping anyone with a question.

I'll say this: working with the public is exhausting. It doesn't matter how many large, obvious signs you print, they're still going to look right at the signs and then ask "What is this? How much is it? How many are in this package?" I'm thinking to myself "Really? Isn't the sign obvious?"

But then there are the people who understand how exhausting and grueling being on your feet for 14 hours, working with the public can be. And they express their gratitude for everything you're doing, and thank you for your help.

I was so tired and my body ached so bad that on Friday night I took a Loratab that I had in the medicine collection stashed under my bathroom sink. I had no idea how old it was, and I didn't care. You would have thought finding it was as exciting as finding a check for 10 million dollars made out to me. I was so happy. So happy and so eager to pop the drug and put on my pj's and curl up on the couch amid 10 fluffy pillows and a huge, soft, fuzzy blanket while my husband started a movie on the big screen. I didn't check email, facebook, or update my blog (obviously) as all I wanted to do was NOTHING. I was able to drift off to sleep in peace thanks to the drugs, even though I knew the alarm was going to go off at 5:00 A.M. (that's right A.M.).

I took the second and only remaining Loratab on Saturday night when the mess was all over with. I slept till 10:30 the next morning. I hung out on the couch in my pj's with the same fuzzy blanket and pillows and buried myself in the crevice of comfort because I knew having one day off was not nearly enough considering what I had just put my body through, and so I was going to enjoy every last, fleeting moment of what I had left of the weekend dammit. And so I did.

I took Tylenol pm's at 6:30 to assure that I'd be falling asleep at 10:30 (I have anxiety about going back to work on Monday's and therefore have a hard time falling asleep on Sunday nights). Thank goodness I was able to get to sleep about 10:45. But even so, I have felt like a zombie today. I can't think. My body hates me, my eyes are watery, my feet and entire body still hurts, my left leg is still going numb, and the list goes on and on.

So yes, I did survive, but it was ugly. At one point, I called my husband and told him that I was so tired and achy that I was seconds away from tears at the thought of having to go stand out there and help people for another 6 hours.

And then he reminded me of how he endured boot camp. So I shut my mouth and went back out there.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Weekend Recap: The "From Bad to Good" Edition

I was dreading this weekend. I had a horrible, HORRIBLE Friday, and I just knew that I was going to let it ruin the weekend (mostly because my brain never shuts up and I can very easily relive an event or conversation over and over and over and... you get the point...sometimes I wish I knew how to turn my brain off).

But as it turns out, this was a really nice weekend, even though I was dreading not only going back to work on Monday, but the entire week because it's the biggest week out of the year since we have a HUGE international event starting Wednesday.

Friday night, when I finally pulled myself together and put a fresh face of makeup on so I didn't look like I had been crying all day, my sweet hubby took me to dinner. Once I was home from work and had calmed down, I realized I had only consumed 1/2 of a Dr. Pepper and a breakfast shake for the entire day. My legs were shaky, my head was pounding and I was starving, exhausted, and starving, and did I mention starving? Michael had been working on some projects in the basement (he beat me home) and met me at the bottom of the stairs with a hug and a "what's wrong?" to which I replied "I don't want to talk about it, and I'm starving."

That's all it took. We jumped in the car and went it Iggy's where I proceeded to vent away the events of the entire day while we waited for a table. It took the whole time for me to finally get out everything that had come crashing down on me on Friday. I vented through waiting for the table. I vented through ordering and waiting for food. And I vented during dinner as well. Finally, when the meal was over, so was my venting. But I felt so much better.
After dinner we proceeded home where Amanda met us and we played games for the rest of the evening. I felt so much better. There's nothing like a sweet hubby and a good friend to cheer you up.

Saturday morning my new furniture arrived. The basement is finally finished! We now have a beautiful entertainment center complete with a Blue Ray DVD player, Bose surround sound speakers, and a 55" LED Samsung Flat Screen TV. Um... It's awesome. Seriously awesome. And it looks and sounds stunning.

Michael and I were so excited, we spent the weekend purchasing a bunch of new DVD's to enjoy our home theatre system. Last night we watched Field of Dreams. An oldie, but a goodie, and the picture was so clear it's like you could smell the baseball field. Awesome :)

I also got my custom bookcase complete with sliding glass doors, and plenty of shelves for all my books. I LOVE IT! It couldn't have turned out more perfect. I love the color of the wood, I love the smoothness of the sliding doors, I love how grown up it looks. I love it, I love it, I love it! There's just something about a grown up book case with grown up books in it that makes you feel, well... grown up!

I'm hoping that Michael can help me take some photos so I can post them to the blog. We'll attempt that tonight so you can see the room. I have some great before shots so I'll be sure to post those as well.

A special thanks to Jen for helping us paint while she was here on her "work-ation". And more thanks to both Kim and Jen for assisting in the shopping for accessories:) The room couldn't have turned out better. I'm thrilled! The only downfall is that I'm going to be putting in some major long hours this week and won't be home to enjoy it as much as I want to. But come Sunday, I'm not leaving the couch! AND- we have a wonderful place to hibernate this winter when the weather outside is frightful.

Anyone up for a movie night? :)

Friday, August 21, 2009

Big Girls Do Cry

Have you ever had one of those days at work where you have to have a conversation with someone (even though you don’t want to have the conversation) and you tell yourself you’re not going to cry? You repeat in your head over and over and over again “Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don't cry”. And then what do you do? CRY.

It’s like the words swimming around in your head have totally confused the tear ducts of your eyes because before you can stop yourself, the tears (and mascara) just start streaming down your face.

That was me. This morning. In my boss’s office.


Damn Damn.

There was no need for it. Really, there wasn’t. My boss was simply having a conversation with me about what to expect next week at our international convention. He was checking in with me to see how things were coming, to make sure I understood what the expectations were for our area, to see if I had held my meeting with the team I am managing, and overall, to see if I had any questions for him. All is good with convention. I’m ready to roll, my team is ready to roll, and I feel confident about it.

So why did I cry you’re asking?

Because then my boss said “So.... how is everything else?”

I don't know if it was the dramatic pause that did me in or what, but Oh God. I so didn't want to answer that question. I didn't want to answer that because everything else is NOT fine. Everything else is a mess. Everything else has driven me to the point of questioning why I took this job in the first place. More money does NOT mean you're always happy, people. Just remember that the next time you're wondering what you're getting yourself into.

My boss is a nice guy. A non confrontational guy. A great guy in fact. But he’s also a very unavailable guy. Which means when I have issues, problems at work, questions, confusions, etc... he’s usually not around to guide me. He really hasn't been since I started. And boy when I started was it ever "baptisim by fire". And the person who is here to help me when I feel like I don't know what the hell is going on, only works until 1:30. This makes life difficult at times, and I’m often leaving work with an overwhelming sense of confusion, frustration and lack of confidence in myself because I have so many questions about what I'm doing and why I'm doing it.

Oh, did I mention that I have kinda sorta been reporting to three different people? No? I haven’t mentioned that? Well, that's because I never talk about work on my blog (number one rule). Well, now I’m mentioning it. I’ve been working with three different, yet equally important, VP’s since I started here. And what makes this so much fun is that they don’t all see things the same way, and often times, one VP will disagree with another VP on a project that I’m working on. This makes things very complicated for me to prioritize and also complete tasks. I'm trying to please everyone (stupid on my part) and It’s amazing I’m not bald yet.

So, when the boss says “So... How is everything else?”, I began telling him. In a calm, rational, water-works free conversation. I tell him about several of my frustrations. But as we began to discuss these certain issues, situations, and frustrations I was having , I started to get upset. I was working myself in to a frenzy. Maybe it’s because convention is next week and stress levels are high. Maybe its because I feel like I'm letting him, my team, and myself down. Maybe it's because I didn't get any sleep last night. Or, mabye it's because last week I finally decided to ditch my anxiety medication (yeah wasn’t that wise of me to do so, a week before convention? Brilliant, I know).

I felt my heart starting to beat faster, my body temperature started to go up, and the only way my physical being could deal with everything I was feeling all in that moment was to let the tears flow freely. I tried to stop this when I noticed it was starting, but as soon as my voice choked up mid conversation, I knew I was done. There they were. Tears. Falling down my face, splashing on my boss's desk.

I felt like Alice in Wonderland in that scene where she’s trying to get through the talking door to follow the white rabbit, but it’s locked so she eats a cookie that makes her smaller, only to find out that when she’s finally the right size to fit through the door, she has left the key upon the table which she can no longer reach. So she drinks something and grows outrageously huge, gets the key, but then realizes even though she has the key, she's now too big to fit through the door. She's so frustrated that she starts crying tears. Tears so big that they form an ocean… yeah. That was me about 9:20. Big, Small, Frustrated, and crying huge tears.

Anyway, I let it out. ALL of it. Might as well right? I mean I’ve already turned on the tears so there’s no stopping now. It was a good talk/cry. My boss is awesome. And I appreciate him so much. I just wish I wouldn’t have had the break down that I did. And then there’s the agony of walking back to your desk while trying to hide your face so the entire office doesn’t know you just had a total break down in the VP of marketing's office with the door shut. (I hate meetings where the door is shut because it is usually isn't good. Usually as in NEVER).

He kept saying “Take a few minutes, hang out in here. I don’t want you to walk out of here and have people think I beat you up.” (My boss really is a funny-sweet guy). Anyway, I left his office at 10-something, and I’m still fighting the water works. Part of it is because I’m still upset (if you know me, you know I’ll go over this conversation in my head a few more times before I’m settled) and the other part of it is I’m embarrassed and mad at myself. I mean, I’m 29. I’m a professional, and I shouldn’t be crying at work.

All I can say is thank GOD today is Friday. And thank GOD I have two days away from this office. And thank GOD I don’t have raccoon eyes with mascara all over me.

I need to go home. Or to bed. Or to North Carolina on a deserted beach, or the moon. The moon would be good right about now. Just anywhere but here.

Thursday, August 20, 2009


I have a crush on Bon Jovi (shocker, I know).

I went out to lunch today. Even though it’s only a few days from the biggest event of the year for my company, I went out to lunch while everyone worked feverishly to put out fires and complete tasks. I didn’t (mostly because I didn’t have any fires to put out). I didn’t “work through lunch”. Rather, I went out with a co-worker. I ordered pasta even though I should have had the salad. And I ordered desert too.

I don’t feel guilty for ordering desert.

I can’t wait for fall to arrive. I have a huge stash of decorations in my storage room just waiting to be put on display. I’m going to go all Martha-Fucking-Stewart on my house and I can’t wait.

I would have put above mentioned decorations out last weekend if Michael weren’t home to stop me.

This morning on my way to work, a rusty Toyota cut in front of me and then proceeded to drive 20 miles below the speed limit. I honked my horn when he sat at the green light, and then illegal sped around him, using the turning lane to do so. Also, I shouted many choice words at him when I flew past him in the turn lane.

I can be such a bitch. Example: I think most of the people who sign up for at-home business opportunities are complete whack jobs who can’t hold down a real job. But, on the plus side, it makes me feel like I have a legitimate career in the "real world".

Sometimes I watch America's Next Top Model and veg out on junk food and then mentally beat myself up for not looking anorexic.

Michael and I have discussed living in North Carolina one of these days, and if I had my way and the stars aligned perfectly, I’d be there now.

I hate having to work for a living. I would give just about anything to have bills paid off and be independently wealthy. I have no problem being a house wife. Even though I went into oodles of debt to get a masters degree. I think that degree would be put to better use if my only responsibilities included staying at home to do laundry, cook, clean, work out, and write.
I totally cheated on my Spanish final in high school. It took four clear pens with answers written on pieces of paper wrapped around the ink tube to get me through the test, but I passed the class with an A. For taking four years of Spanish, I can barely speak a lick of it.

I have random dreams about ex-boyfriends. To this day it confuses me.

I’m going to leave work early today. And I’m not going to feel bad about it. I’ve worked my butt off to get ready for this next week, and leaving 30 extra minutes today is all about me and my sanity today.

Anything you want to confess?

Monday, August 17, 2009

I Will Punch Your Lying Face

I usually enjoy shopping. There's just something about going home with something brand new, that's all yours, that you purchased with your own money, and did I mention it's new?! So yeah, shopping is usually a delightful experience.

Except when you have to purchase something from the Clinique counter at Macy's in Fashion Place Mall.

Macy's Clinique Employee: Can I help you?

Me: Yes, I need some Super Powder, 02 Matte Beige is the color.

Macy's Clinique Employee: Sure, one moment.

A few moments pass...

Macy's Clinique Employee: I'm sorry, but we don't have that color.

Me: You don't have any right now or you'r not carrying it anymore?

Macy's Clinique Employee: We've never had that color in our powder.

Me: Oh, yes you do. I've been wearing it for 15 years. 02 Matte Beige.

Macy's Clinique Employee: In the powder?

Me: Yes, in the powder.

Macy's Clinique Employee: I'm sorry, but we've never had that color. Can you please come around the counter and point to which product you are talking about?

Me: Um, okay sure?. (All the while I'm thinking to myself, did she seriously just ask me to come and point to a product like I'm a little child?). I'm looking for this (pointing to powder).

Macy's Clinique Employee: Right. Yeah no, we've never had that in the color you are asking for. (She grabs some random product and points to the label where it reads 02 but a different color name).

Me: *annoying laugh* Yes, you do have Super Powder in 02 Matte Beige. I've been buying it for 15 years. I guess I'll have to start bringing it with me when I come to purchase it to show that it exists.

Macy's Clinique Employee: Well, I'm sorry but I'm not new to cosmetics. I've been working in this industry for 20 years.

Okay, I'm totally frustrated at this point because I KNOW what make up I wear, I KNOW what color it is, and I KNOW I've been buying it for 15 years. I'm trying my hardest to not explode as this lady is trying really hard to, in her own words, tell me I'm stupid and don't know what I'm talking about ).

Me: Okay, thanks (for nothing).

Because I'm at the mall, and because both Dillard's and Nordstrom also sell Clinique products, I decide to see if they have this mysterious product that I've obviously made up in my head (and to see if they too have idiots working their counter). Dillard's is closest (and I've never have a negative experience there) so I decide to try my luck.

Dillard's Clinique Employee: Hi, can I help you?

Me: I sure hope so. I need some Super Powder in 02 Matte Beige.

Dillard's Clinique Employee: Sure thing, one moment. (She goes behind the counter, gets the product I asked for, and returns to where I'm standing). Here you go. Do you need anything else with that today?

I stand there, with the little, smooth, green box in my hands, turning it over to quickly verify that it is in fact Super Powder, in 02 Matte Beige. It is! SCORE! I KNEW I wasn't an idiot. I KNEW it existed! I LOVE IT when I'm right!.

Me: No this is everything. Thank you so much! The lady at the Macy's Clinique counter told me this product doesn't it exist, that it never did, and that she had never heard of this color before. She even showed me a product with the number 02 on it and the label read a different color.

Dillard's Clinique Employee: Are you serious? This is one of our staple products, and that color has been around for years and years.

Me: I know! I tried to tell her I've been wearing this color for 15 years but she proceeded to tell me that it doesn't exist. Oh, and that she's not new to cosmetics either as she's worked in the industry for 20 years.

Dillard's Clinique Employee: Did you catch her name?

Me: No, but she was an older woman, with a European accent. Short, dark-reddish hair (and I wanted to throw in that she had a ton of wrinkles but decided that it wouldn't be very nice).

Dillard's Clinique Employee: Humm...she doesn't sound familiar. But yes, I assure you we have had this product in that color for years.

Me: Well, I'll just come here from now on to buy it. By the way, do you think it would be rude of me to go back to the Macy's counter and show her that I was able to purchase this, and that it does exist?

Dillard's Clinique Employee: I would. If she's going to work for Clinique, she should know our product line. I don't think it's rude of you at all.

Me: I think I will. Thank you SO MUCH for your help!

Dillard's Clinique Employee: You're very welcome. Have a great day!

Walking off I'm thinking to myself "Oh I will. Especially now that I have this product in my hands. The very product in which 5 minutes ago I was told did NOT exist by some hoity toity employee at Macy's with some fancy shmancy accent."

Needless to say, I was pissed. And I was out to prove that I was right.

Me: (walking up to Macy's Clinique counter). Excuse me? (pulling out purchase from DILLARD'S bag).

Macy's Clinique Employee walks over to counter where I'm standing.

Me: I just purchased this from the Dillard's Clinique counter.

Macy's clinique Employee: That is super powder.

Me: Yes, I know. And it's also 02 Matte Beige. Obviously I'm not new to cosmetics either.

Right after I said that, I drop my purchase back into my Dillard's bag and turn to walk off, not really giving her a chance to respond. However, as I was walking off, I did hear her say "Thanks for showing me."

The best part of going back was that Macy's Clinique Employee sounded stunned. Stunned that:
  • She (having worked in the industry for 20 years) was wrong.
  • I had the nerve to come back and show her that I knew what I was talking about, and I wasn't crazy, the product DID exist.
  • I flashed my Dillards bag in front of her and other Macy's customers at the Clinique counter, showing that I spent my money elsewhere, received what I had askef for, and had made it a point to let her know about it.

Thanks for showing you? Oh you betcha lady. I'd be happy to prove you wrong any day. But lucky for me, and Dillard's, I won't be back to your counter to purchase anything in quite some time.

As I walked away, finally satisfied with both my purchase and having stood up for myself to Little Miss Know-It-All, the saying "The customer is always right" floated through my head, and I just had to smile.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Please Turn Your Electronic Devices to the OFF Position, Thank You

Why is it that every.single.time I go to the movies, I manage to sit right next to the person who either forgets to turn their damn cell phone off, or insists on texting through the entire movie?

IT'S ANNOYING FOLKS! Have the courtesy, and decency to put the damn electronic chain away for an hour and a half. You WILL survive. I promise you. And you may even enjoy the movie you just paid a whopping bundle of cash to see.

Friday, August 14, 2009

There Once Was a Boy...

Who, for the sake of public blogs, will be referred to as Brian. I decided to be mature here and not refer to him as the Son-of-a-bitch Bastard Who Totally Lied to Me During the Course of our Relationship About Having Stomach Cancer (because, well, that would be immature now wouldn't it?).

Okay, now that I’ve given you that tid-bit of important back-ground information, I’ll begin today’s post:

Today, Amanda called me to see if I was interested in joining her for lunch. I was hungry, she was hungry, and so we agreed to meet at a new burger joint that just opened up not too far from her house and my work.

Lunch was delightful. Good food, good conversation, and it’s Friday, so really, what’s not to enjoy? Plus, lunch means the work day is half over, and that is also a very, very good thing.

We were almost done with our meals and I was sitting there listening to Amanda tell me about this total bridezilla who just married her best friend’s brother-in-law, when all of a sudden I look out the window across the parking lot and notice a very familiar man walking with a girl. The two were obviously together, and headed towards the very eating establishment in which Amanda and I were enjoying our lunch. Normally this kind of thing wouldn’t alarm me, except for the fact that there was something horribly familiar about the guy. And then, as quickly as a brain freeze strikes to ruin a wonderfully creamy, icy milkshake, I figured it out.

I could feel the adrenaline rush. My cheeks flooded with color, my breath quickened, and in one gasp of air, I interrupted Amanda’s story to say “OH MY GOD, that’s Brian and his wife and they’re walking into this place to have lunch and holy crap I can’t believe that’s really him and they are coming here holy shit I haven’t seen him in forever and he's totally fat now.”

Yes, I know that’s a run on sentence. I’m just glad I didn’t have a mouth full of food when I tried to say all that, because I had to get it out in the one short breath I had inhaled BEFORE they walked into the doors where I risked my verbal spewage being overheard by the very people in which I was discussing. The next little bit of our conversation went something like this:

Amanda: Brian…Brain? (She looks out the window and I could see her trying to figure out a Brian we both knew and then like a bag of rocks, it hit her) BRIAN? AS IN... BRIAN BRIAN?

Me: Yes, Brian. As in Brian Brian. As in CANCER, SCUBA Brian. (Brian was in the scuba diving class Amanda taught years ago).

Amanda: (still looking out the window, our eyes both glued to the round figure approaching the facility) That’s not Brian. That guy is fat!

Me: That IS Brian. He’s put on about 50 lbs, but it IS Brian. Look!

Amanda: No way!

Me: Oh yes way. I know because I randomly stumbled upon his wife’s blog one day, don't ask me how, and she has all these pictures of them on it and THAT.IS.Brian. Yes, he's now fat! HE’S FAT AND THAT’S HIM!

Amanda: Wow, I can’t believe that’s Brian.

They walk in the doors and both of us immediately stiffen up and stare at each other in anticipation of what could (but won't) happen next.

Me: DON'T LOOK! (We’re in a booth and I’m currently facing the doors and Amanda’s back is to the doors. In order to see him, she would have to turn around which would create attention, which would alarm Brian that we were there. Brian would have totally recognized her from Scuba should he see her and then he’d know for sure that I was me and I didn't want that. I wanted the luxury of watching him without him knowing I was, because, did I mention he got fat? Fat as in REALLY FREAKIN' FAT?! And, I wanted to check out his pudgy wife, too. Call it mean, I call it being honest, and you'd do the same thing too).

Amanda: (looks)


Amanda: (turns around) I can’t believe that’s him.

Me: Do you think he'd recognize me?

Amanda: Totally, you don't look all that different.

Me: (I’m watching him through my sun glasses which I had put on earlier, thank God, because the sun was shining through our window). Oh shit, he’s looking at me. I wonder if he really will recognize me considering I haven't changed all that, he's looking...I think he knows it’s me. Oh yeah, he knows it's me. Okay he looked away. Wait no, he’s looking again. Okay crap he really does know it’s me.

Amanda: Shut up. He does?

Me: Yeah, he does. Oh wait, now he’s saying something to his wife. I think he's telling her that he wants to leave. Hahaha he totally wants to leave! Yup, he’s turning to leave. Okay he just walked out the door.

Amanda: No way.

Me: But wait a second, he walked out but his wife didn’t. What in the ...??? Okay wait! He just walked back in! He’s saying something else to her. She's looking at me. Maybe she just naturally glanced at me. He's probably telling her that he wants to leave cuz it’s too crowded. Yeah, she doesn’t know me so I doubt he’s telling her his ex girlfriend is here. And I doubt that he ever told her that he lied to me about all that cancer bullshit.

Amanda: I can’t believe he’s going to leave. What a pansy.

Me: Yup, they both just walked out.

Amanda: He totally recognized you.

Me: I think so, too.

And then, with their backs to us, they walked back from whence they came. The entire time they were walking to their car Amanda and I sat there starring out the window discussing how fat he is, how his wife probably has no clue what a liar he is, and how it’s too bad they didn’t stay so I could walk up to him and say “Well hey there Brian. So, turns out that stomach cancer of yours treated you pretty well… a little too well eh?” But then again, I probably wouldn't have because that would have been, well, immature (and I'm all about acting my age these days).


You see, Brian was the first person I’d ever really fallen in love with. And, ironically, he was the first person (and actually only person) to ever break my heart. Twice. First with the whole cancer crap (which was a total lie but I didn’t know at the time, so I spent an entire month in agony over it), and second with the end of our relationship (which happened while I was still under the impression he had cancer). He told me he didn’t want to put me through all of the cancer stress because it just wouldn't be fair of him to ask that of me. And because he didn’t have very long in terms of time, it was best to not waste my time. I cringe now, even as I write this six years later).

Oh, and his timing totally sucked. It was like an episode from Sex and the City. He broke up with me the day before I was supposed to go to my best friend’s wedding shower. Even though I was a bride's maid and SHOULD be there, I couldn’t manage to muster up the energy to go. I wanted to be happy for my friend, and even though I felt guilty about not going, I was totally miserable and knew I wouldn't be able to stomach a place full of happy wedding wishes. That's like the last place you want to be when someone rips your heart out of your chest for the first time and cuts it into a million little pieces without a care in the world. I did make it to her wedding a few weeks later (thank goodness considering I was in it), but I wasn’t out of the heart-ache clear.

I spent the next six months trying to get over Brian. I cried all the time, found it hard to date, and just didn’t have the same energy for dating that I had before meeting him. I became skeptical of every guy. But the most horrible part was that just when I'd take a step forward in the healing process, I’d have this random dream about him which would leave me to think about him all the next day, thus taking several steps back. This went on and on until finally one night I had a dream where my grandmother (who passed away in ’94) came to me and said “Michelle, everything is going to be okay. You just need to have patience with yourself and with love. Everything will work out. Patience.” And since that night, I haven’t had one dream about that worthless piece of crap who calls himself a human being.

Months after the whole ordeal, I received an apology email from him. But I was actually robbed of having any sympathy for him when he admitted that he’d lied about having cancer. Then he had the nerve to ask me if he had “turned me off from men” in the hopes that he hadn’t because I am “a beautiful person who deserves to find someone wonderful” and how truly sorry he was for everything.

I never did write him back. By then I'd finally accepted that he wasn't worth my time.

Isn’t it funny how after six years of wondering what happened (because as much as you may not want to think about the “what if’s” and the “whatever happened to’s” you can’t seem to avoid the human nature of curiosity) the stars aligned just perfectly so, and I was given a glimpse into the life of a person who, at one time, seemed so significant?

I’m thrilled with the outcome of today's lunch.

Not only is Brian nothing to be desired from a physical standpoint, his wife (who come to find out, he broke up with me for) isn’t either. AND, I love the fact that he didn’t have the balls to stand in line, order his meal, and sit is pudgy little self down to eat it. After all this time, he still hasn’t become the person I once thought he was capable of being. If anything, he proved himself right given the line he fed me six years ago: I'm better off without him.

I love my husband. I’m crazy, madly, and hopelessly in love with my husband. I was this morning, and I still am after this encounter, and I will be tomorrow as well. In fact, on my way back to work I called Michael and told him all about it. I think he enjoyed hearing my story as much as I enjoyed telling it.

They say it’s the little things that count, and today was just a little, but significant reminder, of just how lucky I am. Lucky that once there was a boy who taught me assholes exist. Lucky that once there was a boy who broke my heart. Lucky because now there is a man. And in loving him, my heart will never be broken again.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Thank You for NOT Smoking

I was gonna write a big ole long rant about how I was gagging in the bathroom at the hospital today when I went to have my echocardiogram done (because upon entering the restroom, there was this woman in there who, just by the smell of her clothes alone, made the entire bathroom smell like a 50 year old bar full of smoke and I had to hold my breath the entire time I was in there; and, when I got out I smelled my own clothes to make sure I didn't smell like the ashtray I just walked out of). Thank God she didn't get into the elevator with me because I probably would have coughed up a lung. Was she unaware that she was in the Heart and Lung unit at the hospital?! For crying out loud, there are people walkin' around this place with oxygen tanks just dying for a good solid breath of fresh clean air, and here she's traipsin' around with a cloud of ash for an aura.

But rather than go on some big ole long rant (hehehehe), I'll just let the title of this blog speak for itself. Cuz really, it says it all. Pretty nicely too, if you ask me.

So once again, thanks in advance for (let's say it all together now) NOT SMOKING!

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

A Little Heart to Heart

It's been a crazy past few days. Mom and Grandma have both visited the doctor only to discover they both have (and let me simplify this for you because I can't spell, let alone say the medical term correctly) a hole in their hearts.

Sounds funny, when put that way. Like, I keep hearing lame lyrics of songs and poems of lovers' hearts crushed by something rather dramatic. But no, this is the real deal. And, it's genetic.

Genetic as in, both Mom and Grandma were born with this. Genetic as in, I may also have been born with this. I'll know as soon as I see the cardiologist.

So how can someone survive with this condition? What exactly does it mean to have this? Well, for starters, unfiltered blood is traveling to the brain because it's bypassing the heart. This means there is a high risk for blood clots that could hit the brain and cause a stroke. This also means the body is receiving "dirty blood" that doesn't have proper amounts of oxygen that the body needs. It also means that there is a leak which causes blood to leak out of the hole into the lungs when the heart compresses (which is does, A LOT obviously). This can cause a shortness of breath or a strange taste of blood in the mouth when exerting higher amounts of energy (like when you try to run). This finally explains why I've never been a runner. I literally cough up blood when I run too hard, for too long. It's gross. And it tastes nasty. And I don't recommend it.

Other symptoms include swelling in the legs. BINGO. This explains the mysterious Lymph Edema I've had in my foot for the past 5 years (that no doctor can explain considering this is something that usually develops when lymph nodes have been removed from the body). I still have all my lymph nodes, and some extra lymph fluid in my foot apparently. Just think of all the cute petite shoes I haven't been able to wear for five years. I know! It drives me crazy too!

So anyway, the solution?

There's a hole in my heart dear Liza dear Liza, there's a hole in my heart dear Liza. A HOLE!
Well then fix it dear Henry dear Henry dear Henry, well then fix it.... yeah enough of that.

The doctor enters the body through the groin, will travel up to the heart, and literally put a patch over the hole. Sounds like it would be a lot more complicated (20 years ago it was, I'm sure, as patients had to decide whether to have open heart surgery or not) but these days, it's fairly simple. An over night stay in the hospital if all goes well, and you're done.

You: That's it? Really? A patch? Like a band aid?
Me: Yup, that's it. Really. A patch (yes, like a band aid).

The tissue of the heart will grow over the patch, and WALLA! NO MORE HOLE!

So- I'll keep you all posted on whether or not my stone cold heart needs patching. Maybe then I'll be a warmer, loving person :)

Update: The doctor found a hole in my heart. However, it's not big enough that it needs patching. In his own words "Some holes we patch, others we don't. Yours isn't a big enough risk so we're not going to worry about it." YAY! I feel so much better!

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Getting Up the Guts to Get Rid of the Gut

I think I'm going to purchase a membership to the rec center by my house. I'm just trying to get the guts up to do so. My gut is up, so now I just need to get THE GUTS up to take the plunge into the membership fees and their swimming pool. I want to lose 30 lbs before I'm 30 and I've got a solid 10 months to do it- IF I get the courage to do so.

Why is it so hard to make the effort to take care of yourself? Seriously. I should WANT a healthy body. Actually, let me rephrase that. I DO want a healthy body, the challenge is having the WANT to actually do something about it.

I'm a results oriented person. I do something, I wanna see results and fast (did I mention I'm also an impatient person?). So after one work out, I wanna drop a pant size. Yeah, yeah, I know my expectations are unrealistic, but this is honestly what keeps me from being motivated to sweat my guts out and have a heart attack on the tread mill. I know when I get off, I'm gonna look as frumpy as I did when I got on. I just want results to be instant. I know, dream on right?

I really am going to look into a membership there. I really am going to give it some honest thought (even though I can't pretend to be excited about it). And hopefully I really am going to lose some weight. I don't wanna be a fat girl. I don't wanna be an unhealthy girl, and I don't wanna avoid doing things I would probably enjoy but don't because I'm body conscious.

So there.