Archive for March, 2011

Published by PaintingChef on 28 Mar 2011

An unprecedented level of follow through…

Anyone that says it doesn’t hurt is a big, fat liar…

Published by PaintingChef on 25 Mar 2011

She also mentioned I would have been too scared of getting kicked out of the house or at the very least losing my rent money had I attempted any of this in my younger years…

Something… odd is going on. I’m not sure how to explain it but we all know each other here and you know how I stumble around for a few weeks before actually just SPITTING IT OUT ALREADY OH MY GOD SHUT UP so I’ll see what I can manage. I would like to assure you that should you ever be unlucky enough to be trapped in conversation with me in real life, I would do exactly the same thing and then immediately follow up with a splash of red wine on your shoe. Or your carpet. The moral of which is NEVER invite me to your home. Or if you do, only serve water. And like… broth with a side of Spot Shot.

I’m losing weight, which was absolutely and 100% The Plan. I’m quite pleased with the way the numbers on the scale are shrinking at a steady rate and I’ve done more than my fair share of naked happy dances behind the closed bathroom door. But I’m starting to feel… unsettled (?) with my appearance. I’m starting to crave some change. It started with the bright purple streaks I’m currently sporting and loving. But lately I’ve been thinking I might want to pierce my nose too.

There is also a tattoo in the works but I’m saving that for a very definite milestone, one I’ve already determined. I’ve decided on the tattoo and the location and that is all very much settled. But that milestone is still a long way off. Too long for me to be satisfied in the short term.

Patrick thinks I’m insane. Obviously. But what I think he forgets is that we got together right when I was entering my “tame” phase. I used to be a little braver with my appearance. Oh sure, skinny bitches pull this shit off much easier than someone with a little more padding and I’m not anywhere close to the skinny bitch side of the spectrum. However that isn’t keeping me from wanting to change up my appearance like I used to do on a regular basis. Right before Patrick and I (re)met and started dating, I was planning on piercing my eyebrow. I’m 33 years old now and too damn grown to pull that off (or to even be interested in trying) but the rest of it? Yeah… why not? I think I want to pierce my nose. Just a little teensy stud, not a ring. I don’t think it would even be all that noticeable. But I would know it was there.

I was telling my mother about this and she wasn’t the least bit surprised. She reminded me of my wilder days. She said she feels like I’m kind of rediscovering myself and this makes sense. First I was wild child. Then I had a scare, calmed myself down all at once and nothing second and then almost immediately, I fell in love and got married. She said its like there are still two parts of my personality who haven’t been in the same place at the same time and maybe this is all about me meeting ME all over again. When I look in the mirror, I don’t see the me that I feel like I know. Don’t get me wrong. I love my life, my husband. I’m thankful for every misstep I ever took because it got me where I am today and I LOVE where I am. But I think that somewhere along the way, I felt like there was a part of me who had to be buried, as though it was too contradictory this image I had of what I was supposed to be. Trying to stuff myself into a mold much like I used to try and stuff myself into those skinny jeans… it ain’t happening and its better for everyone involved if I don’t even try.

So this is all about rediscovering who I am. Melding my youth with my adult life and allowing myself to be comfortable in the two co-existing in the same person. So does that make me the 33 year old with purple (and possibly pink) hair, a stud in my nose, a tattoo on my wrist and wearing a cute little floral dress? Yeah. Maybe. But I think I’m okay with that. I feel like I know that girl. I feel like she is someone who is finally ready to stop hiding behind one of the many disguises she has (fat girl, good wife, perfect hostess) and just allow it to all blend together and believe that she deserves happiness and health without having to stifle any part of what’s there.

Yeah… I think this could work.

Published by PaintingChef on 23 Mar 2011

And here you thought you were rid of me…

Well THAT was awkward…

Look, I’m back. I still exist. I’ve been precariously close to jumping off a building the last few days and I won’t deny that Monday was a Very Bad Day in my office and then at my house. There were tears. There was wine. There was chocolate. It appeared as though every word I’d ever written here was gone, lost, ka-put. And I doubted I’d have the ability to start over from scratch.

It’s all my fault, really. I received the emails, I read the scary words about server upgrades and PHP changes and back-ups and all that. I kind of glazed over them and pushed them to the side to deal with later. You know, right after I’d established world peace and organized my shoe closet.

And then suddenly I came here and wanted to talk about purple hair and pierced noses (more to come on that one) and all I got were some lines of code with words like “fatal error” and “you fucking idiot” on them. (Yeah, you saw those too, huh?) There was a flurry of frantic emails and support tickets and a less than stellar interaction with a VERY snotty tech support guy that will result in my switching hosts very soon.

But now we are back and better than ever as I am no longer running the WordPress equivalent of a 1972 Ford Pinto with an AM radio, a coat hanger for an antenna and a wrench for a window crank. I owe pretty much every ounce of my sanity at this point to Amy of Amy’s Musing’s (a dubious honor, no doubt). My partner in crime and internet BFF Zube hooked me up with her and within like 15 minutes, she had righted my world back on its axis.

They may think I’m kidding but I’m TOTALLY sending them both cookies. And ponies. As soon as they tell me where they live…

Published by PaintingChef on 14 Mar 2011

Although I’m not sure that’s what they would write in the Wine Journal review…

While cleaning up the kitchen after having some wonderful friends and their adorable little girl over for dinner on Saturday night…

“What was that Shiraz they brought that we were drinking? I really liked it.”

“Me too, it was magically delicious and felt like little baby unicorns dancing on my tongue. It was called Ass Kisser.”

“I kind of love that our friends know that it’s alright to bring Ass Kisser wine to our house.”

“Patrick. If at any point in time, we were to ever have a friend who DOESN’T know that bringing wine called Ass Kisser to our house is not only okay but it is damn well encouraged… well, all I can say is that I’ve failed somewhere as a human being and at life in general.”

“Don’t worry sweetie. I’m pretty sure that comes across loud and clear as soon as you walk in a room.”

Published by PaintingChef on 08 Mar 2011

Version 2.0 kind of mucked up the works for the rest of us.

In my previous incarnation, I was, without a doubt, a fairly active individual. Aside from the fact that for all of high school and a large chunk of college, I worked at a fitness center, I was just… active. Somewhere along the way, I lost my love of activity and movement. I’m not sure how it happened… I would try and blame it on all the drugs but even then I would surface from a haze a few times a week to really sweat it out in a good aerobics class. Although sometimes I think that was more of a cleanse than for actual exercise. Let’s face it… all that pot and vodka had to come out somewhere… right?

Version 2.0 was somewhat… lethargic. We tried a few gyms and I just never got into any of them. I tried valiantly to blame it on not liking the facility but I think it’s time to fess up… I just loved cookies and a good cozy couch and sleeping late on Saturdays a little bit more.

The problem was this… (well, the problems were many but this is one that I realize now kind of trumped everything else) I forgot that aside from being good for my body, regular exercise helped my mental health almost as much. I’m prone to pretty heavy bouts with depression and anxiety. Shocking, I know. And while the happy pills help out, without exercise, I pretty easily sink back into the dark place. And that’s exactly what Version 2.0 did. Quickly, I might add.

Lots of things can put stress on a new-ish marriage but a wife who is suddenly ballooning in size and can’t seem to shake herself out of a funk, quits her job and then racks up a few thousand in credit card debt because she is trying to shop her way to mental health is probably up there on the list. So… that sucked.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this. I think that, when you finally make a decision to make a drastic change, examining how you got where you are can help you heal. Does that make any sense at all? So while I could pretty easily identify how things got as bad as they did (the depression and the infertility and the this and the that and blah blah blah OH MY GOD SHUT THE FUCK UP) what I couldn’t really lay my hand on was how they… started? Like, I’d found the bottom of the cliff where I was sprawled in a chocolate icing coma but how did I find my way to the edge?

So I think that’s what I’m trying to determine. And the two or three of you that are left here and still read this (seriously… it’s gotten so quiet around here. I’m getting a complex) are just so lucky that you get to watch some naval gazing. Because isn’t THAT a change?

None of this is to say that I’ve made huge strides in the exercise arena… sure, when it’s pretty Patrick and I take the dogs for a walk on the weekends but that’s about it right now. But… I get it. It finally clicks. And… I’m working on it. I’m trying.