Not really a mourning person

So as most of you know, Tony and I had made the difficult decision to put our Bea-Bea to sleep in late July. For those of my friends that have lost a pet you understand how difficult of a decision this is and I have to keep telling myself it was the right decision. And I am driving myself crazy over it. I try not to cry a lot when people can see because I don't want those that are not pet-lovers to think I am crazy (ok, crazier) but I still cry over her most days. I miss her fat-moosey breath and her wet slobbery kisses. I miss her following me around and making sure that I am OK (lil puppy really don't care what I am doing, she is her own doggy). I just miss everything about her. Now, I know it is normal to mourn but dammit, I really suck at this mourning thing. I know that part of the reason is when both my grandparents and my loved mother-in-law died in the same year (getrud and granny in the same week) that I could not properly mourn. I was in school, working and it was the freakin' holidays. It was a pretty shitty time and I don't think I have ever completed mourning them. Now with Bea being gone, I am stuck in this mourning rut. And I am depressed. And I am angry. And I am hungry. 

Where does that leave me? Hell, I dunno. Mostly it leaves my fat-ass in the kitchen looking for a snack. Food is always there for me. Always ready to wrap me in it's warm, comforting embrace. Food always loves me, it doesn't judge me. Food doesn't care that I have gray hair (and eyebrows, who the hell gets gray eyebrows?!), wrinkles, or bat-flappers. Food doesn't leave me, sure, I can eat the last bite of something but I can always get more. Food is my constant, it is my lover, my friend, my partner-in-crime, my happy, my sad, food is my everything. And it is a damn shame that it has to go.

I can't keep on turning to food. I can't mourn through food. I can't live through food. Food doesn't make anything better in the long-term. In fact, food is what made Tony sick. Food killed his liver. And food is killing me. I am so very tired of being the "fat, jolly, girl". I am tired of "you have such a pretty face". I don't want to worry about sitting in a chair or people laughing at me. Hell, this life is hard enough all of this extra worry.

While I have had a few set-backs these past few weeks, mainly stopping  the Weight-Watchers meetings. Which WW meetings were my rock and I hate that I had to stop going. But with the bad economy and poor attendance the meeting closed. And the online thing doesn't really work for me. So, now what? Well, first of all, this crazy eating mass quantities of whatever the hell I want, has to stop. Eating till I have a belly-ache? Has to stop. Can't breath because I am so full. Stopping. And then perhaps the weird right-upper quad pain that I am pretty sure is my gallbladder committing suicide might just stop.

Now, I am left with what is going to happen. Do I grieve through the food, do I let these set-backs rule my life? Do I gain back the almost 50 pounds I have lost? I dunno.

Hate, jealous and pettiness, Oh My!

I want to be a good girl, really I do. I want to be nice and sweet. I want to smile and nod and be a good hostess. I want to say nice things about all people and never be mad. I want so bad to appreciate the hand that life dealt to me. I want to be ignorant to life's pain and struggle. I mean ignorance is bliss, right? But as the saying goes I can want in one hand and...well...umm...have excrement in the other. Nothing says life like a hand-full of excrement.

But, alas, this is not me. I am not a good girl. I am mean and hateful. I frown and disagree and generally want people to go the hell home. I don't want to make you a snack and if you want something to drink the fridge is in the kitchen and DON'T drink my last Pepsi. I talk about people (boy this isn't easy to admit) and I am pissed off all the time. I can't seem to appreciate anything and I am fickle. Not only am I not ignorant to life's pain and struggle, in fact, I like it so much I tend to make things harder on myself. I am petty and jealous and generally a pain in the ass.

And yet, while I would love to spend the next, oh say 5,000 words or so telling you about how much I suck, I don't really think it is very helpful to me or to anyone else. I guess what would be better to say is I am human. I have my faults. I hurt and I am sometimes hurtful. I am not perfect and I want to be.

I am at a point in my life where I want to be a better me. The best me I can. I have been working on my weight, 46lbs down, forever gone. I am trying to be patient with my weight-loss. It took me 36 long painful years to get to this weight and losing it is hard. Somewhere along the line it stopped being about what I am eating and more about why I am eating. And that's not easy. Being truly honest with yourself is painful. And it's not something I am ready for yet. I know I binge eat. I know I eat to cover my emotions, to fill the void left in my life. But what is missing? What am I looking for when I look in the fridge? Companionship? Acceptance? Love? Sex? What am I looking for?

I think I am looking for me. 

Misery, company and the like...

Marriage is not for wimps or those that easily give up. Marriage is a constant give, give, give and perhaps an occasional take. Marriage is...well...a pain in my ass right now.

*disclaimer* It is very hard not to "air-out" all of my dirty laundry on the net. Blogging and the anonymity of the internet makes it so very tempting to trash my husband (or whomever is annoying the crap outta me this week) but I know from past experience that is tends to hurt the other parties feelings when you trash them on the 'net. Remember there is always three sides to a story, the right I mean my side, the other side and the actual truth. And who the heck cares about the truth? I mean really, the truth is so overrated it is sickening.

But on with the blog. Tony and I are having a difficult time right now.What is our problem? Well it is the whole, day-in, day-out parts of marriage that has us bogged down in misery. Part of the problem is money which with both of us being spenders and money being tight has made us both edgy. I feel like a failure because I am the provider for our family and what I am providing is not enough. I never wanted to be the "poor" nurse and dammit I am. Tony, well, he is going to have to get a job and after 10 years not working and a poor job market is a daunting task to say the least. 

The other part of the problem is...oh boy, I hate to admit this, but me being an ass. I know, I know, it is hard to believe but it happens. Sometimes, I place the ass-hat firmly on my head and I dare someone to try and knock it off. I had some issues with the way things were going on and I have voiced them loudly over and over. Finally, Tony listened and is trying to change things and now, well, now I am really mad. I mean, who the hell listens and tries to change. I mean really? After almost 20 years of being together you are going to change? Oh that is such a dirty, mean, low-down trick and now what I am supposed to do? I have a "role" to fulfill and you do too. Tony, dear, Tony you can't just change our roles without consent from me. Hell, I think we might even need a contract, perhaps even a lawyer! You can't change and be flexible all the sudden. Damn, damn and damn. Now what I am going to do? You know I don't change well. I mean, I loves me some living in a rut. I think I am part gerbil even, running in a circle on the wheel of life, never changing my routine and pretending like I am happy. You have tricked me, dear Tony and for that...you will pay.

So, now what? All the of the sudden I have all my bitches squashed. My go-to mindless bickering has been rendered useless. I am confused and lost and now even more unhappy. I literally have wasted weeks of my life (ok more like all of my life so there) being miserable. Hell, I choose misery. I guess I think it adds character or some shit. I dunno. It is like misery is ingrained in my body, mind, and soul (along with a good dose of drama). And now all of the sudden, I have to let things go. And I don't know how to let go. Just when I think the road ahead of me is getting shorter, the bridge is out and I have to turn around. It was a dirty trick you played on me, Mr. Hubby and it will not be forgotten. 

Waist not want not

Today at yahoo.com one of  the headlines read Tyra Banks sorry for Top Model ad
(http://tv.yahoo.com/blog/tyra-banks-sorry-for-top-model-promo-with-stickthin-model--1470) so me being nosy, of course I had to check it out. What did that crazy Tyra do this time? Well, as it would apprear Top Model put out an ad showing, hold on to your hats...a really tall, thin model.*Gasp, faint*  Who knew such things existed? I mean, really, thin and tall? And a model? Oh. My.God. Anything but that.

Why the uproar? Hell, I dunno. Yeah this model is thin and yeah a person can circle her waist with their hands but she pretty much looks like a tall-thin model. What is this contestant's claim to fame? Having the worlds smallest waist, really, I can hardly believe it. Well, I dunno if it is the smallest but it is pretty darn small. Has anyone ever had this affliction before? Is this a true claim to fame? I dunno, I am doubtful as Laura Ingalls Wilder's Ma had a waist that Pa could circle with his hands although she was short and didn't make the headline news. Oh yeah and died well over a hundred years ago.

Where times different when LIW's Ma was living? Sure, women were judged on their appearance and used various items like corsets and not eating to keep themselves thin and attractive. It was a different time people! Wake up...oh wait. You mean that woman were judged on their appearance then, too? Well, damn.

So where does this leave us? Well, I don't know, I am guessing it leaves us judged on our ability to be attractive and thin. What a suck. Is it right, wrong, or who cares? Of course, being vaginally impaired, I think it sucks. Really sucks really bad. Can't I be judged because of the color of my skin or the curliness of my hair? Umm, lets try that again...Can't I be judged because of my religious belief's or the area in which I live? Oh hell, this isn't going well. Isn't there a saying about judging? Doesn't it go something like "judge ye not least ye become an asshole?"

Do I hafta?

Lately it seems that my life is just full of "do I hafta's" and boy do I not "wanna hafta" (take that spell-checker). I look at my life sometimes and I think, really is this my life? Really? When does it get any better? Actually, you know at this point I would just go for does my life get any different (and for those of you that know me and are thinking well...she is a little different, that is not what I am speaking of, so there)?

My big "do I hafta's" is deciding which bills get paid and which bills can wait. I really thought I would be past this game by now. While, I am thankful I don't have children so it makes some decisions easier, it still sucks to decide do I want groceries, electric or gas. I am 36 years old and have my BSN. You would think at this point my big decisions would be where do I want to go on vacation this year not if I want to eat. Of course I will take some of the blame for my financial problems as I am a horrible bill payer. Financial genius I am not. I get so bogged down in I can't afford this-that or the other, that I just stop paying bills and do pretty much what I want to do. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And it is not like I just do that sometimes. I do it pretty much most of the time. I think I can't learn.

I am kinda at a point in my life I think can't I try some new problems? The ones I have are getting wore out. At least they are consistent and lord knows I love me some consistency. What is sad about my problems is I do the same thing over and over and expect different results. I am an educated woman and I know this doesn't work, in fact, I think they call this insanity (yeah, whoever they are). And I seriously expect different results. Don't pay my bills, I am always surprised that the bills double in size the next month. Put faith in the fact that ONE person in my life will do the right thing, total disappointment every damn time. I have been doing the faith=disappointed thing since I was a child mind you. A child! What kind of crazy is that? Really. I am no longer in what I would politely call a "rut" I am in a full, all out sink hole that I gladly live in! I am sure that people throw me a rope and try to get me out of the sink hole but none of the quitting shit for me, no sirree bob, I will love me some sink hole until it has covered me over and left me for dead.

Disclaimer-Now Karma before you get your panties in a twist and decide that "if she wants new problems, well, that is totally doable" and give me a new set of horrible problems, keep in mind I am talking about GOOD change. Good change like amazing bill paying skills or perhaps a drop in the cost of electric or groceries. Perhaps a pay raise instead of a decrease in pay. Oh, oh, I know I know, maybe I will be happy for more than 2.5 seconds before some jerk totally screws it up for me. Yeah, I know I ask for a lot but Mrs. Karma, I try to be a good girl. I do try, it is mostly out of fear because I know you...and I know how you work. I have a good healthy fear of you. Maybe you are like Santa, Mrs. Karma and I need to leave out cookies, then I will get good things a-comin'? Hum, maybe not cookies, probably more like a nice glass of wine and a pair of snazzy heels.

So now, here I sit with my list of "do I hafta's" and boy does it make me sigh. I guess I should get off of here and onto completing the list...but really do I hafta?

Goodbye sweet moose

I am saddened and sick at my heart over what had to be done. You were so sick and I was helpless against that. You were but a tiny puppy when we got you. You were born on Christmas Eve. We named you Beatrice because that is what Todd called women. I honestly don't remember the whole joke just that the name seemed to fit. You were so mean to your brothers and sisters, you would bite their tails so that you could nurse. I knew you had to be mine.

You were a good puppy, minimal shoe loss to chewing, you were more of a blanket dog anyway. You loved to bite feet and didn't really care for kids. We lived on the farm at that time and you got to run free. I remember one time the ol' farmer at the top of the lane was mad because you would run his sheep so he turned on his electric fence. All I heard was BBAAAAAA then yipe yipe yipe as you shook and stood behind me crying. You would always run to me when you heard those mean ol' sheepies. You knew Mommy would keep you safe.

You slept where I slept and heaven forbid we take a vacation because you wouldn't eat. You pouted the whole time we were gone. I missed you too when we left but you hating riding in the car so it wasn't fair to torture you that way. I would call whomever stayed with you at least twice a day to find out how you were doing.

You owned the couch. It was your spot to lay in,damned if we had company or not. We would always find a spot to get your big moosey butt situated on.

You were always by my side, where I was, you were close behind. You checked on my constantly and made sure I was behaving myself. You did not like anyone having too much fun. You were old and your sense of humor was lacking.

You loved your snacks. You would come up with ways to get them. Sneaky ways like going outside every ten minutes then expecting a snack. Then when you got to lazy for the every ten minute outside trick it was just acting like you wanted out so I would get up, and while I was up, could you please have a snack?

When you could no longer get into bed with me it was a sad day. You hated being lifted or pulled on so you started laying on the floor. We made you a comfy bed to always be close to me.

You were such a very good dog. Full of attitude and love for Tony and I. I know that we did the "right" humane thing but I still feel like I failed you. I am sorry Beatrice, I love you.

Attack of the BBQ

Let's start off with a "no" to my friends in-the-know about my yearning for a grill. This girl has yet to purchase a grill. This is more about the dangers of the outdoor grilling season or better yet, the dreaded BBQ. This past weekend was the 4th and boy did I indulge. Battered and fried shrimp, mac-n-cheese, baked beans, potato salad, a hamburger, you name it, I ate it; all of it, every delicious bite and dammit I enjoyed it until I added up my points and journaled what I had eaten. Then I kinda of went "oh hell" and did it again. Three times to be exact. I went 40+ points over my extra 35 points that I am allowed. OMG and tonight it weigh-in and I am sad. After my disappointing weight loss last month .6lbs to be exact I was pretty stoked when last week I lost 1.8lbs and this week I am afraid, very afraid of the scales. I have considered not going this week, giving myself a break but  that is why I weigh what I weigh. Too many breaks and cookies and days laying on the couch doing nothing. *sigh*

So where does that leave me? Well, it leaves me with the understanding that I can't be trusted around food. That I still have a whole lot of work to do on me and the way my brain is hard-wired when it comes to food. This weekend I have two parties to attend and with that two pitfalls for my diet. I hope that this weekend I can focus more on the party and the fellowship and less on the food and the guilt. Wish me luck ;)