Monthly Archives: August 2013

Not the best start

I am consoling myself with a cupcake. So far, I have been stood up once, been on an anti climactic date, discovered I was friends with one mans ex wife, been propositioned a couple times, been asked to help one man move, met one guy in a parking lot… who looked MUCH older than his profile said, Had one guy send me 38 text messages full of random questions, and been told I was a rare precious creature. Yes, creature, he ment well, but came off a little creep. I made my profile picture private for now. Mostly so that I can go on and peruse profiles without being inundated. I have to do things differently than I did before if I want different results. I also need to remember, my intent was to just see what was out there… That I would have a profile, but not necessarily go on a single date. My feeling of self worth, and attractiveness have no bearing on wether or not I have any POF mail. As someone who seeks out external validation, that is hard to remember. I am making an effort to balance out girl dates to keep me same. Making time for myself. Dating should be fun, dating should be fun. Dating should be fun…

Gun day

My workout partner is pretty all round awesome. And was snapping a couple picture at the gym, looking tough. After this workout I had a hard time lifting my coffee to my mouth, my arms were that shaky and weak

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What do you do with your face when you know someone is taking a picture?

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You can’t win if you don’t play

I did it. I wrote a profile. My book (the power of now- ekhart tolle, that I have now finished). Said “do it now, or do not do it at all.” He wasn’t referring specifically to dating of course. But why was I putting it off? Insecurity. What if I don’t have what boys are looking for? Not pretty, or smart or rich enough. I have never before failed online dating, based predominately on a picture. Never been accused of being un intelligent. I manage to pay my bills and take care of myself. None of these statements are true about me. Fear. What if I meet some psychopath? They look just like everyone else…What if I revert back to my people pleasing, mothering tendencies? How do I make sure I remain a “bitch” and keep my own fledgling dreams and hopes alive. Like new shoots in the spring, they are so delicate, eager but vulnerable. Delusional fantasy. What if Goldylocks comes to the realization I’m a damn catch? And that he deserves someone as spectacular as I am? And the fairy of past relationships and real life comes and waives her fairy dust over him miraculously and instantaneous solving all of his problems… making the world sparkle with that fine iridescent glitter I would imagine fairy dust is made of… that would be amazing I bet he wishes for that too…
The scape goat of time. I am not ready, I don’t have a toe hold on my future, I am still running back to swim in my past. The right time is now. The book I just finished was talking about relationships and enlightenment, this passage spoke to me:
“Once you have identified with some form of negativity you do not want to let go. On a deeply unconscious level you do not want positive change. It would threaten your identity as a depressed angry or hard done by person. You will then ignore deny or sabotage the positive in your life. This is a common phenomenon. It is also insane.”
So was that what was happening? I was a sad single girl? A girl that men would leave to live in regret rather than work on things with me? A girl that found men that weren’t equipped (at this time) to give me what I need or want? Clinging and sticking in relationships that didn’t work for me. Now this is all deeply unconscious, “Nobody chooses dysfunction, conflict or pain. Nobody chooses insanity. This happens because there is not enough presence in you to dispel the past, not enough light to dispel the darkness.” Or this beauty, “relationships do not cause pain and unhappiness, they bring out the pain and unhappiness inside.” I realized that my relationships become addictions. “Addiction to another person, the incompleteness looks to fill ego, and nothing is ever enough to give lasting fulfillment.” Great… but makes perfect sense. I am light years away from enlightenment, but I saw a single beam for a moment with this one.
I came to the realization I have NO idea how this is supposed to look. Dating. I have been held hostage, isolated. I have done those things to myself because that’s what I thought a relationship should look. I have swung madly in the other direction, a mania of dates without discrimination. Like a squirrel darting from tree to tree. Why was finding someone I actually LIKED in Goldy so amazing? Shouldn’t I feel like anyone I choose to spend my time with going forward, are men that I like? It will be a struggle, living in the now, and listening to myself. Like an anorexic learning to eat again?
I wrote my profile, taking a couple hours to thoughtfully describe myself, and a bit of what I’d been through. I was anxious about it, and forwarded it to a few of my girls to read. Was it too much info? Was it real? Was it honest? Sometimes it’s hard to be honest with yourself. The feed back was generally good, the consensus made a few changes to paragraph placement, hook them in, and then once they are hooked you can dump out the long relationship, therapy, and the insane dating last year. And “dump out” I did. Maybe too much, but I was trying to screen out, deter a few crazies. I don’t want to hide who I am, I want to celebrate the strength and progress I have made. I deliberated, but I posted a picture. I am pretty dammit, and I don’t want to hide who I am. I also thought maybe some of the boys that had e-mailed or been on dates with me already would then screen themselves out.
The first day, I had 24 new messages. 3 of them were from men I had been on dates with already. I posted a current picture, taken a couple weeks ago, and I guess they didn’t recognize me? I am the one that went on 30 dates, shouldn’t I be the one to forget? I did get a message from a 45 year old married man looking for “nothing serious” that told me disclosing that I had been to a therapist would deter “contenders”. I responded that a real “contender” would embrace my work to better myself and that his opinion was heard, but in my opinion, he was mistaken (aside from the fact he is MARRIED and on POF). And then I blocked him. That was the only negative message I got. I was inundated with “wows” and acclaim for the honest, witty and refreshing write up. Men like honesty and wit? I thought it was just big boobs? (totally kidding). I responded to every email, and inspected each profile and then looked at a few profiles on my own. nearly 3 hours sitting on the floor in the livingroom with Bre and her sister. I think new users are splashed up on the main page, it should be the “fresh meat” section. Which is why I had such a volume of attention. Every time I go to check my messages, It shows that I am online, and I get more messages. It actually deters me from going on to check them. 3 hours is not a sustainable amount of time to spend online messaging strangers. It means I have less time for unpacking which I still need to do, cooking, which is exciting when you have someone to cook for, and blogging which keeps me sane. There have been some changes to POF since last time I had a profile, men can no longer send women private messages (too many dick pictures). You cannot as a new user put a hot or gmail address into the message field. I understand why this happened, but it means I need to find another method of intermediate screening. And then I realize. If I don’t feel comfortable giving these men my phone number, I don’t need to. There is nn need for intermediate screening, No reason for me to meet any of the 63 ( I know, crazy..) men that have checked a yes or maybe box under the meet me heading.
I will still make mistakes, be mislead and lied to. It will be a struggle to find a balance, but I am in it, now. Right now.

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Silence is golden?

I have not spoken to anyone today. Almost, I did buy some fruit at the market, and ordered my starbucks. I have not had a conversation with anyone today. It’s an odd thing to realize, 7:30 pm and I haven’t spoken. I have spent the entire day by myself, a little forced loneliness. Just me alone, and making an effort not to get tangled up in my thoughts. It takes real effort not to let my thoughts run circles around me, they are quick, my thoughts, and excellent at tying intricate knots. I have text messaged, and facebook, so I haven’t been entirely alone… connected while unconnected. Or maybe that should be the other way around?
I slept in, showered, dressed and went to the market, I strolled the streets, eating my waffle, and watching people. I had a tea, blogged, and did some work. I strolled about a while longer, went for a drive, looked at furniture, and then headed back to starbucks, I read, I people watched, I went to a matinee. I saw “We’re the Millers” and my laughter sounded loud and foreign. I got some froyo and wandered downtown, there is a triathalon tomorrow, and when you think of the thousands of people that will be packed into those same 10 blocks just a few hours from now it is eerily empty.
I am feeling weird, not talking all day is an impressive feat for those of you that know me, I regularly engage and chat with strangers. It was a reflective day, and a conundrum as I was trying to be “in the now”. Thoughtful and peaceful without thought. It feels stormy… outside, and inside. But growth is never easy, right?

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I broke it, busted my thyroid. Hope I can get a new one on sale…

I hit a jag this week. It was a tough one. Maybe I took my training wheels off too soon. I scrubbed out.
Mid week I had a mysterious “we need to talk” text from my friend K, and I immediately went to the place where he needed something from me (co-dependent me). Turns out, he was worried he hadn’t heard from me in a while, and I felt like an asshole. I am reading “The power of now” -Ekhart Tolle and having a hard time getting thru it. I went down to the beach to read, made it thru 2 chapters, and then just chilled, people watched, water watched, hung out. I texted Van, who has read the book, “I’m nailing this…” Mouth breathing. It did make me feel a little better. Full moon and I was feeling tired and cranky. I had some insane graphic dreams, including one where I was being assaulted by a faceless man, and Goldy saved me (thank goodness!). I have been a mosquito buffet, 12 new bites including a big one on my back up chin. Oh, and a head cold lurking around from last week. I cried and slept more this week. It was awful.
I ran out of thyroid supplements. I couldn’t get in to see my naturopath until the first week of september and she wants to hook me to the REBA again to see where I’m at. I ran out of thyroid stuff, and figured since I have been doing so well with my hormones… Big mistake. I am not cured. I am tired, and tearful, my hair is coming out again. I am craving sugar and bread. I slept for 10 hours last night, and could have a nap right now.
Your thyroid is a hormone producing, butterfly shaped fleshy bit in your neck. It contributes to metabolism, energy, and your body’s sensitivity to other hormones.

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Apparently mine is busted. It means that I have to be sure to keep taking my supplements, unfortunately they are out at the office, so I have a lesser grade that I picked up at the health food store. It’s a hereditary flaw, having both my mother and my paternal grandmother with a history of issues, so It’s possible I had faulty original equipment, and didn’t actually break it. I’ll take comfort in that..

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105 lbs… In my bra!

I just invested $100 on a sports bra. Not the most TIT-elating (bahahah) way to blow a Benjamin (or a Sir John A Macdonald up here in canada), but necessary. I have big boobs. I alway have. I got my first training bra at 11, by 13 I had a full C cup. I have never known the need to stuff a bra, I have on a few occasions had to stuff my breast back into a bra that was ill fitting or too small. That counts? Having these attention grabbers out in front isn’t always sunshine and rainbows. Real breasts are heavy, and effected by gravity, tube top? HA! Spaghetti straps? Only if I want to show off my bra straps (I paid $250 for the damn thing, I should show it off!!) that are a full inch thick. Halter tops give me a headache, you strap 10 lbs around your neck, that will happen. Bathing suits and bras never come in cute patterns or styles, they are full coverage turn of the century pulleys and tarps. And then I need a co-signer because they will easily be $100-$300 each. Cute summer dresses often won’t have enough boob room, I know, booohooo, poor big breasted girl, I know I am blessed, thousands of women would kill for my breasts, and many pay thousands of dollars for implants and surgeries. Well, I got ’em I can complain about them…
I am not enormous, 34-36 DD/EE. I am lucky when I lose weight my boobs generally stick around, or I guess hang would be a better description. They are a little lower than they were a few years ago, sometimes they look sad, nipples pointing at the floor, maybe they are just tired. Except when I lay down, braless they head for each side of my chest, I understand they spend most of the day pressed together sweating, I respect their need for a little alone time.
The left one is larger than the right, by half a cup size, sometimes it chafes, works it’s way out of even the deepest underwires and is out to escape. Getting dressed in the morning requires a maneuver, bend, clasp and shake. Then I gently align my headlights, if by chance my nipples go hard I prefer they point the same general direction. It’s a funny thing when just one goes hard, why? One more sensitive than the other? Are they fighting and not on the same page? It must be science. On occasion I lose things in my bra, crumbs, ID, once I forgot a roll of quarters in there. It’s like the Bermuda Triangle.
I hate yoga inversions, my boobs are suffocating, and high impact jumping/running, sometimes I wonder if I’ll give myself a black eye. What more awesome than doing box jumps? Holding your boobs while you do them so you don’t bounce out of your tank top. I have on occasion worn multiple sports bras at once in order to feel supported. Layers of sweaty tight apparel that you get to fight your way out of at the end. Fun…
I saw an ad for this new sports bra from Lululemon, boobie bracer. They make other styles, in cute colors, but this one comes in basic black. I have given up on the need for pretty, I just want to keep these puppies strapped and secure for my workouts, and then be able to get out of it without too much trouble, I am not houdini.
There are instructions on how to put on this bra, step by step instructions describing my classic bend clasp shake! It’s a thick rubbery sort of material, hard to describe, there is some stretch, it’s like what I picture batmans’ costume to be made out of. Superhero tit sling! Obviously that’s the reason it only comes in black! Batman only wears black.
I wore a dress today so trying on a bra means I am standing in my lulu cubicle, flip flops, a lace thong and a smile. The people at lulu have been so kind as to provide 360 degree mirrors. I see myself naked all the time, just not always at those angles. Surprisingly I am good with what I see, I feel better about myself, those self help books worked! Or maybe it’s the gym regularly? I got distracted leaning forward, are those…? My back muscles? Defined? I flexed for a second, yeah they are, I have back muscles! Self high five, and then I realize I have forgotten the task at hand in order to pose down in the changing room.
I unhook my batman bra and re hook it around my waist, tug it around until the cups face front. I sneak an arm under each strap and wedge my boobs into the pockets. One more step, straps to shoulders, it’s like weight lifting, a clean and jerk, which sounds dirty, but it’s not…success! I am in!
It’s snug, but I feel supported, I straighten out so my nipples aren’t “blue” (one blew east, one blew west). But how will it be jumping? I flex my back again, hey-o looking good… I decide now is the time, I jump up and down. 360 degree mirror and I am doing jumping jacks in a thong and flip flops… Well my boobs were snug and secure, my ass… Not so much, I realize my belly is making more movement than my boobs and am equally impressed and horrified. I’m going to have to check out my flexed back again to re gain my fading confidence. It is a winner. I made the investment. I am excited to go for a run and test it out, well… As excited as I can get about going for a run.

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Making goals, because there is more to life than being really really good looking.

I was out with friends last week, We were chatting about dating, and how online has it’s ups and downs, but how do you engage people without being creepy? He asked me “What do you like to do?” So many tough questions…
Now the scope of my codependency is deep. I have had a few goals the last couple years, lose my depressed weight, move, feel better. But other than that? I was a parasite, clinging onto my ex’s goals, he wasn’t interested in what I was, and my dreams were discarded, by me. I adopted his goals and dreams, and like an un watered plant, mine shrivelled and died.
I need goals. Hobbies. I wrote down some things I liked a couple months ago, in order to try to find some joy. I need to go deeper.
Dreams and goals, short term and long, and basically I’m starting from scratch. When I was a teenager I wanted to go see U2 in concert (which I did actually do!), and take a trip to Ireland (un related but funny U2 is from ireland…). I also wanted to go to Ibiza, but I may be too old and smart for that one now…
I want to get my bike license. I don’t have a bike, but the idea appeals to me, I also wanted to get my class 4 at one point, just so I could drive all my friends around in a bus. Not sure there is a need for that any more. I want to be involved with kids, volunteer? I don’t have a list yet, but I am aware of the need for one. No more parasite, I will do what I want… it’s a scary and freeing notion.

108 things I like about myself, not an easy exercise!

Self sufficient, Strong, Smart, The color of my eyes, the color of my hair, freckles, my teeth, the three birthmarks/beauty marks on my thigh, ankle, and face (even if the one on my face has started sprouting hairs…. hahaha), kind, intuitive, leader by example, always learning, open to new ideas/ways to do things, working on myself, healthy eater, fast reader, organized, great memory, strong willed, loyal, thoughtful, excellent parallel parker (I love the angles of it), forgiving, good listener, compassionate (and practicing being more-so with myself), small feet, flexible (I can grab my ankles and put my head on the floor), the lines when I flex my triceps, the resting line of my quad on my thigh, I still have great boobs, not hairy, the wave/curl in my hair, helpful, empathetic, good cook, good baker, shopping for others, wrapping gifts, good writer, I like my loopy scrolling handwriting, fine skin generally blemish free, funny, the sound of my voice, large vocabulary, really great at dancing like a dork-no shame, spit like a hockey player (is that good?), the sound of my laugh, not a big drinker, stubborn, responsible, good friend, long arms (extra ape index here), pretty/feminine without being prissy, easy-going, not a flake I keep plans/promises, good yoga form (I was told), shapely legs and dainty ankles, I can flex my chest muscles and move my boobs (yes party trick), I can do real pushups, hourglass figure, soft skin, tidy, multi-tasker, personable, conversational, able to discuss topics with a wide subject matter, can admit when I’m wrong/made a mistake, know when it’s time to keep my mouth shut, persuasive, good at reading people, I know how to order at starbucks (a 1st world skill for sure), Able to get ready quick, don’t wear a lot of makeup, detach from others behaviour, not easily embarrassed, not easily angered, calm, cool, when I do get angry on a rare occasion- I turn into a human thesaurus, using big words, I pay my bills/debits, generally I’m okay with my money, generous, I’m hip with the latest gadgets- a bit of a dork, Great Bartender- waitress (or I was…), people like me, I keep friends for a long time, I can draw- paint, vast and varied musical interests, great under pressure, calm and thoughtful in emergencies, able to think outside the box to solve problems, fast walker, animals usually love me, I’m great with kids, patient, my hair and nails grow fast, I take good care of my teeth, flossing regularly, good at reciprocating, motivated/active (mostly), flirting- I used to be good at it, humble, take more than my fair share of blame and give more credit at work, thankful, Introspective, almost done my list (really like this about myself), willing to work to solve problems instead of denying or ignoring them, good body awareness, I can roll my belly (another party trick), clear loud and comfortable public speaker, trustworthy, reliable, I look great in baby pink or turquoise blue.
I put this exercise off for weeks, it took an hour, and there’s some overlapping qualities like stubborn and determined, many superficial, but I feel better about myself, something I recommend everyone try!!

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Is that… am I… excited?

And a little anxious. I am ready to date. I think. Or I thought. I feel good, over my ex, better about myself. I have a new home space that feels measurably better. I was never a fan of my old suite, convincing myself it was temporary (2 years later) And there was something about living up there that always made my skin crawl. If I had been more aware of trusting my feelings I would have indeed moved long before I did. It was not a good environment.
I told Cherise about my decision to date again, and we had a conversation about what I liked and didn’t. (I still need to list the 108 things I like about myself…shit…). I hadn’t realized that Cherise, living close by, in the 10 years with my ex, saw him a grand total of 3 times outside of coming to our house. No wonder I felt like I got SO MUCH from Goldy. I would have guessed 7or 8 times, I hadn’t realized how isolated he was from my friends and family. Now it would have been one thing if she lived hours away, but 30 min? I saw her at least once a month on average. Mind blowing.

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I admitted to not writing a profile last time. I didn’t feel good about myself, and in retrospect wasn’t even close to ready to date. I felt like enough time had passed I should be ready, but I hadn’t dealt with the grief, or guilt. I felt better than I had, but wasn’t healed. I was on Match to start, a paid site. I did the quiz and filled out the questionnaire. But my profile was short, I had a picture and a handful of interests. I didn’t spend much time “shopping” for men, relying on my matches and men that contacted me. After MrNRN I went for volume and full blown distraction. Plenty of fish, where again I didn’t write a profile, I said “you won’t read 100 words, you are just going to look at the picture”. After #13, I added that men should be self sufficient and independent. I felt like #13 wanted to take me hostage. I thought I knew what I wanted, but I’m not sure I did. I just wanted to be loved and the idea of loving myself seemed completely foreign. I still don’t 100% think I know what I want. So am I ready to date? Not writing a profile, I was weighting most of the attention I got, purely on my physical appearance. Remarkable for a girl who struggles with feeling pretty. Again I relied on men that contacted me, there was only a handful of instances I initiated contact. If anyone showed interest I would meet them. Not being terribly selective trying to get thru 40 dates. Astounding that with my standards set so low I met someone as amazing as Goldylocks. I didn’t believe that I deserved good things, (and neither does he, but he is wrong! I was wrong too, we both deserve, great, amazing and spectacular!!))
I came down to starbucks to write my profile, I am actually going to write one this time, and maybe not post a picture? However I am anxious about it. I was manic and distracted before. I need to remind myself that just because I have a profile it does not mean I have to go on a single date, send a single e-mail, or really do a thing with it. I wonder about the emotional stress of dating. As soon as I decided I would write a profile, I got a head cold. I did run out of some of my supplements, not being able to get into the naturopath till the beginning of september. I guess I am not yet cured. So was the head cold just straight up germ related? Or did the stress of dating again induce a response? It’s not a completely out there notion that our thoughts and feelings control our physical health. Theres also the matter of this crater I have on my head. I have good skin, rarely do I break out, but currently I have the worlds largest zit.
I did not write a profile today, I procrastinated, I did some work, I blogged, I chatted with Karma, I grocery shopped, and then I came home, Visited with BRE and her friend, and cooked, thai salad, and spinach salad for the week (to go with the banana bread I made yesterday), potato salad, BBQ’ed steaks and basil tomato salad for dinner, cherry cheesecake for desert. I watched true blood, I am excited to start dating again, different than last time. Selective, thoughtful, and with my own best interests needs and wants forefront in my mind. Maybe after I write the 108 things I like about myself… then I’ll write a dating card, maybe… Since I took the pressure off myself to put up a profile, my throat isn’t as sore, and my lymph nodes have gone down… Weird… I wonder if my enormous zit will be gone tomorrow… A girl can dream!

I think someone put alcohol in my drink!

This is a true recount, to the best of my memory, of the last 40 hours… Names have been changed to protect the innocent…
I awoke to the new ducksauce song, it’s upbeat and I like to wake to music instead of the shrill repetitive siren. I opened one eye and reached for my cell phone, shutting off the alarm and logging into the beer store online ordering page. I needed to secure inventory of a limited release Budweiser 8 cans. 6 am. I must really love my customers, or something. I reset the alarm for a more reasonable 7:30 and try to go back to sleep. I feel terrible. I ache all over, I think at first because of the gym, but realize it’s also in my throat, ears, and my lymph nodes are swollen in my armpits and neck, feels like a marble under my skin. I also have dry mouth as my nose has been plugged and I have been a mouth breather through the night.
I want to call in sick for work, I want to spend my day in bed, I have a full blown head cold. But I know, there are big orders coming in, and I need to be there. I also have decided to take my stat day from last week friday so I only need to get thru 8 hours. I shower, and haul it to work. I did indeed have a long 9 hour day, and I still didn’t get everything done. I left to head over to a friends house where she is making dinner and my cousin is going to do our hair. Dinner and a do. I am late, because of working late, and just want to lay down and go to sleep. I feel like ass.
We have a lovely dinner, I have sweet new blonde streaks, in addition to the already sun lightened overall tone, this is the blondest I have been in a decade. We finish up a little after 9 and I am tempted to ditch plans to go out for an ice pack, a fan and my bed, (yes threesome! well foursome if you count me).
I laid on my bed with the icepack, My friend Hal is in town for a concert, she texts me when she gets back to the hotel to meet her for a drink. She thinks I am going to flake out of our plans, I surprise everyone including myself by putting on some black eyeliner and pants. I love Hal, I’ll go meet her for a drink, and then sneak out, in bed shortly after midnight…
Well we meet up and she pours us a drink, heavy vodka, easy on the mix and a handful of vodka soaked gummi bears. We start our walk to the bar where her friends are, and by the time I make it thru my drink, I am feeling it. Tipsy, it was a heavy pour. We hang out with her friends, and the boys buy us a drink, and another, and I get some water, then more drinks. We are dancing and laughing, I am intoxicated and forget about my headcold. The people watching is fantastic and there is some dorky dancing. That’s my style of dancing-dorky. At one point I remember helping one of the boys put his shirt back on, I know it doesn’t really sound like me, reclothing a man?? I think I may have prompted him to take it off, and he got into trouble? Maybe he was just feeling confined by his shirt, I don’t recall. We laughed and drank and danced until the music stopped and the lights came on. We walked outside and Hals boyfriend flagged me a cab, I poured myself into it, and proudly remembered my new address for the cabbie. Including my cab ride home I spent $20. I had not been that drunk in months…
Hopefully I was quiet coming in, carrying my heels and staggering up to my room. I filled a glass of water and precariously toted it up the stairs. I peeled myself out of my clothing leaving a trail to my bed. I drank my glass of water and laid on the bed. Someone was spinning the house, so I am laying on my bed, naked, smiling to myself, one foot on the floor. I grabbed my phone and one eye texted Hal, my face hurt from laughing. What a good time. I made it to brush my teeth, and then back to one foot on the floor, bed stance, ready to attempt sleep.
I passed out, lets be honest here, and awoke a little before 7am. Where did I park? Would I have to move my car before 8? Would it be a slow trudging walk? How the heck did I end up so drunk??? Hahaha! I roll over, and down an old water bottle. I may throw up. My hamstrings are screaming at me. Likely residual from the dorky dancing in high heels. I know the drunk texting/facebook was at a minimum, I was that drunk. I feel like those bears attacked me, damn gummi-bears. Vicious buggers. Did I flirt with that boy with his shirt off? I should have, I think he had a 6pack. I had fun. I saw my boss at the bar last night… good thing I didn’t call in sick! I can hear BRE (best roommate ever) downstairs getting ready for work, maybe I can score a ride to my car! I still have the sweaty smeared makeup on from the night before and I feel it really brings out the red in my eyes, and compliments the dirty sweat pants and T-shirt I have donned for this car retrieval excursion.
I burst into the kitchen and suddenly feel like I may throw up. I pour some water and sit on the floor. She asks where my car is and I explain that I accidentally got drunk. Oopsie… She drops me off at ground zero. I feel okay, mostly and I safely make it home. 6 hours since my last drink, but there is a chance I may still be intoxicated? If you have left the house but still find yourself in bed shortly after 8 am is it considered a nap? Or going back to bed? I wonder how Hal feels. Vanessa and Cherise text me my good morning texts, and I admit to the shennanigans from the night before. I fall asleep until noon. I had things to do, unpacking, organizing, some unfinished work stuff. Stuff that will need to be done another day
I did a little cleaning, a little work shopping and then came back to the house with some A&W chicken strips, I could have been satiated just licking the salt off of them. At this point it’s around 3 and I am hitting the wall. I am hungover despite the pineapple, banana and 2000mg vitamin C & B’s. Functionally hungover at least. I shower, finally washing my eye make up off, and get dressed, I have a girl date with Miss E and Miss B.
I am tired, I want to lay down, and my head cold is not being very forgiving demanding equal the attention my hangover is screaming for. I stop at Starbucks for some coffee and meet the girls. I pound back 3 waters and an iced tea, and feel better, but having all that liquid I have to pee, at this point in the washroom at the restaurant I realize, I am wearing my pants, backwards. Awesome. Good thing they are leggings, but I didn’t notice they felt funny?
I survived my accidental drunk, had such a good time, it was worth it. Just hope it doesn’t open the door for this head cold to kick my ass.