...wasting away in Margaritaville...

i wish i had a spectacular story for the last day of the cruise before we got "home" to Miami, but alas... i do not. Wednesday my roomie and i went to lunch a little later than normal after spending the morning on the pool deck getting stared down by a creep she had to prevent from causing a domestic dispute on the first day (she's a cop... totally awesome!). one of the other cruisers joined us for lunch and said something that i thought was a little harsh - "the next time i go on a cruise like this, i'll go with friends." uhm... OK. ouch, that stung, but thank you for telling me how you really feel. that night, we had a pool party on deck at midnight. the funniest thing was watching this guy bust a move... all by himself on the pool deck. it was pretty clear he learned his moves from Wii DDR or Just Dance 2011. AWEsome.



on Thursday, the instant we realized we were back online with our phones, email, and Facebook, everyone's faces were immediately buried checking in on our real lives. epic MISTAKE for me. i had an email that provided me with some rather unexpected news about work. i thought i was punched in the stomach, all the wind left my body and i was stunned. STUNNED. immediately, i texted two of my friends that work for the same company, and breathed into a metaphorical paper bag. then i looked down to the bar area below...



this guy was wearing a shirt that simply read: "Breathe in, Breathe out, Move ON." perfect. i did my best to follow the advice. sometimes, you get inspired in the most random places. for me, it was on a drunk guy at a bar. who knew? so, why did i read my emails? it totally changed the tone of my vacation and i was miserable for the rest of the trip. dinner that night was nice, we were serenaded by the waitstaff singing and dancing to "O Sole Mio." lots of pictures were taken, including a very unflatting one of me. thank you, i will be going to my WW meeting tomorrow night. message received. i am OK with how i look when i stand in front of the mirror but it is becoming more and more obvious as i see pictures of me that i am unhealthy. le sigh. denial is over, time to get my shit together.

the trolls never said a word to me the entire trip. i was happy enough to defriend most of them from my Facebook page when i got back from my online hiatus. it's very clear to me that i don't have a lot in common with them in real life, and the only common denominator was we pay for Weight Watchers. i am not going to "collect" friends on my page any more, it's not a popularity contest. Facebook is a tool to maintain contact with the people that i don't see every day (but want to!) and share stuff with people in my life who want to be in my life. it's nothing personal against those people who were defriended and while i hope i didn't hurt anyone's feelings, i just don't see the point in forcing a friendship if there really is nothing there.

so... here i am. back in reality. the cruise, it was OK. i wouldn't say it was spectacular because it wasn't because i was worried about so many things that were going on at home at the same time. it was great to be away, to hang with my friends, to relax and not give a rat's ass about reality for a while, but i'm glad to be home. when the hubs picked me up at the shuttle terminal, he was standing there holding a sign with my name as if he were a hired limo driver. so stinking cute. then i came home to some gorgeous star lillies (my bridal bouquet flower) for our anniversary. he is the most special person on the planet, and while i don't see eye to eye with his friends (apparently, i'm a bitch? who knew...) all that matters is him. he IS my best friend, and he loves me no matter what i say. what can i say? i found my prince charming while working at the douche factory (yep... that's what they made at my old job... true story!).

Vacation daze... Day 3

Last night, the head waiter approached me and asked me about my group. He asked why the other table has been in a bad mood. He pointed out to me that they seemed sad and asked me if he was doing a good enough job. I told him, very confidently, that their mood has nothing to do with him, or my group of friends, that it is just the way they are and there is nothing that can be done to fix that. He is so getting a gigantic tip from me tomorrow night.

Hey, epiphany. Nice to see you. I realized last night that no matter what, people are going to be miserable if that is how they choose see things. I have approached this vacation as an escape, to figure some things out about me and the direction I want to head in life, mainly my career. What gives me joy? Pleasing people clearly is not a strong point, nor is tolerating drama. I need to do something that is more solitary, less revolving around people.

The group of trolls, as I am now fondly referring to them, have some serious issues and they are making their own vacations miserable as a result of their negativity. I don't care. That is their issue, I have chosen not to let it affect mine.

I am sitting on the pool deck this afternoon, enjoying some sunshine, having some light and airy conversation with one of the best friends I could ever want, and it's perfect. MY perfect. Someone else may think this is boring, sitting and writing, but this gives me joy. I laugh at myself, I watch and observe what goes on around me, and people are having fun doing their own thing. It's beautiful, really.

Last night, one of the girls and I went up to the upper deck and stared at the stars and talked with a few of our other cruisers until the rain started. Like no other rain I've ever felt, I thought it was like a warm bath. But we all ran for cover and eventually split up. Two of us headed to the bar, where I continued to enjoy the shiraz and conversation. Music was very 80s, and these older women were dancing their asses off. Wayne the bartender was laughing at our looks of horror watching the debacle of the dance in front of us. He told us of a club on another floor and called his bartender friend to take care of us.

I ended up shitty faced. I probably drank the equivalent of 1-1/2 bottles by myself. I decided I want to stay up one night and just have unabandoned fun with whoever cares to join me.

Stay tuned!! Two more days!!

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Bahama mama drama... Day two

We are here in nassau. Day 2 of our vacation. The group has definitely firmly shaped into two or three groups. It is very strange and awkward to get glares from people who I haven't even spoken with, but I really don't give a flying flip. I'm better than to let those idiots ruin my vacation for their assholioness.

Last night, we were very lucky to have our entire table full of friends. The other two table groupings pretty much sat in stone cold silence. I watched them for a while, feeling bad for two girls in particular who had that "help me" look on their faces, but there was nothing I could do for them. I seriously doubt anyone would do anything to try to save me from a similar fate.

The fairy godmother who put me at the fun table deserves a Nobel peace prize for that accomplishment. If I got to sit with the ramrods (named as such for their extremely stiff posture while looking down on me), I would have had to catch the first flight out of the Bahamas to get me the frig away from them. Yes, they are that horrible. Excuse me, but I have never pretended to be something I wasn't. If they don't like or appreciate my brutal honesty, that's their disconnect.

Right now I am sitting on the deck with two of the coolest girls ever, and listening to their animated chatter. Do I really have to go back? I am kind of dreading the return to real life next week. Not because of anyone specifically, just not looking forward to getting back to the grind of two jobs, the stress, and aggravation of my real life. Here, I am fun, relaxed, and don't have to be anywhere at any time. Ahhhhh.

To quote Samuel, our waiter, life is good. At least it is here, today.


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Trying to make sense of it all

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right. And here I am.

This week has been horrible. Lots of emotions, thoughts, insights, and soul searching.

I'm struggling to understand how or why bad things happen to the most amazing, kind, caring people on the planet. Three of my friends have miscarried over the past month and I have no idea why. I was absolutely heartbroken when I found out about each of them (2 occurred this week), and collapsed in grief on Thursday as a result. Is it selfish to be so sad for them? Maybe, but I would actually cut off my right arm for any of them to take away the pain - physical and emotional - that these women are feeling.

I just don't get it. It's not fair.

So, here I sit, at Logan airport. Watching all these people coming and going to their destinations and I wonder if they have ever felt guilty about going away on vacation when people they love are hurting? I feel like a horrible person leaving to have fun, but I know that there is nothing I can say or undo what has happened. Yet I feel guilty. Several of the friends I am going to see are friends with one of the women who lost her baby this week. I'm sure we will all be happy to see each other, but she will be weighing heavily in our hearts all the same.

Sorry to be so deep and introspective. Now I will get to the funny shit.

There are several people coming on this trip that make me wonder if they have ever been on a fucking vacation before. Questions of what to buy, where to buy it, what to wear, what to pack, how much money to bring, will they provide towels, where the electrical outlets will be in the room, will it be hot in florida...the list keeps building. I cannot make is shit up. I am pretty sure someone will be thrown overboard by this trips end. It may be me for being bitchy and intolerant. So be it. I am prepared for it, if it will spare me from the mind numbing idiocy.

These are friggin grown ass women! I am absolutely stunned that they are that unsavvy that they cannot do some googling themselves to answer the most banal questions. Cmon people. Use the gray matter in your cranium.

It's going to be interesting. That's for damn sure. I will keep you all posted!

Namaste.


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procrastination, ADD, or something else?

i don't know why i keep forgetting to post to my blog. i know i committed to myself that i would journal my progress, both physically and emotionally, yet for some reason i keep forgetting. i get distracted by work, by life, by television... it's so bad.


last night's WW theme was making time for yourself - which is what reminded me that i needed to update this. because while i am talking to you, i am doing this for me as well. it really does help to look back at my writing and see how i was feeling at a given time and understand it. so... this morning, i put fingers to keyboard and am journaling again. last night's weigh in: down 1.8 - i was very pleased with this number, given that i had weighed in last week in the morning and it was only 5 days earlier. i am curious what that number would have been if i waited the full week, and went in the morning, but then i wouldn't get to go to my favorite leader's meeting. i'll take the loss, thankyouverymuch. last week, i did gain (period) but i expected it given that i felt like the entire Atlantic Ocean was being stored in my boobs. damn water retention. so, my net loss in 11 weeks is 3 pounds. not horrible. i am actually exactly the same weight i was last June when i went to my friend's wedding in Atlanta.


root canal is healing nicely - i was finally able to chew on that side of my mouth last weekend. i am coronated on April 26th. you can still call me Kristin, but in my mind i will be "queen" for a day. so, this week, the husband is in Florida for a mini-vacation by himself. he has to schedule his vacations a year in advance due to where he works, and i couldn't afford to take this week off from my job. i've been on my own all week, and it SUCKS. i don't think about these things when i have to travel for work, but being home alone with just the cat to torture me really blows chunks. the first night was OK, because i was exhausted from getting up at 3:30 AM to drive him to the airport. last night, i went to my WW meeting, and then came home and caught up on the DVR. i still haven't done any housework that i needed to do before he got back. the laundry bomb went off and the house looks like a disaster area from a dryer explosion. maybe tonight.


i am going for a tattoo consultation TOMORROW. yes, you read correctly. i am actually doing it. lotus flower, right shoulder, for me to remind me that what cannot kill me makes me stronger (yes, i'm talking to you, asscancer). the next one will be on my left shoulder, and will be for him. i am scared and excited.

Le sigh...another day another crisis?

I had my annual last week. You know, the typical yucky girl stuff. And surprise of all surprises, she said "have you thought about losing weight?". Uh. Yeah. I've thought about it, and have been going to meetings for the better part of two months. Not that she would know this because all she sees is that haven't lost a damn thing in the past year. She didn't see the (slight, 2 pound) gain, or the losses. Just that I'm pretty much the same as last year. At the rate I'm going (about 1/4 pound average in 12 months)... I will be at goal in oh, about 99 years. No, scratch that. I'll be at goal...sometime after never?

Time to get serious. Oh, wait. Already getting there.

I have a few friends who struggle the same way I do, but until I open my mouth and talk about it (or, in this case, write about it), I have no idea that I'm normal. I always think my problems are so unique and special. They're not. A lot of us have the same insecurities and ways of dealing with things. I choose to eat or shop. I don't get many compliments these days, so buying pretty shiny new things is my way of getting some sort of positive attention. I know this. If I'm not getting the positive attention, I think I suck. And when I think I suck, like this past week where I had a glut of epic failures at work, I ate peeps to numb those negative feelings. Peeps are delicious, but they do not have magic powers to fix my problems. Yet, I turn to them every flipping time.

Anyway... The results of my appointment were posted today online. I have hpv. And my husband, when I told him, started bawling. I thought he was kidding, and I was laughing hysterically. He started projectile tears, and I knew he was serious. He thinks he gave me this horrible thing, but in truth, I may have given it to him. I had my first hpv test about 4 years ago, and it was negative. This one came back positive. What does this mean? Right now? Not a heck of a lot. I have to go back to the gyno in 6 months for a followup, and then who knows? So... I now get to worry about both ass and cooch cancer. How lucky am I? Eh... I'm okay with it. I'm not stressed or upset over either, but the husband? He's devastated. Not sure why, because in both cases, we will keep an eye on it and do what we can to keep it from going anywhere. I'm lucky because both types of cancer are very treatable when detected in the early stages, and I actually feel pretty lucky about that.

It's all about perspective. And right now, mine is pretty good, all things considered.

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Yuck... Part deux

Root canal.

Nuf said. It sucked big hairy monkey balls. No, I don't want to hurt the monkey's feelings... It was worse than that. It was like spending a weekend with my mother in law without the luxury of the safety word to get me out of there. It was like the worst torture ever. Water boarding? Fuck that. Give a terrorist a root canal. They'll tell you everything you need to hear once the lockjaw wears off.

When I say my mouth was pried in the open position for 90 plus minutes, I kid you not. I got in there at 11:30, and finally was allowed to close up shop at 1:20. What the deuce? At least the Novocain was still working, but I thought I could play rocky Dennis in the new "mask" movie opposite Cher. I felt deformed, I felt like I was handicapped from the face left. Nobody told me I was going to be starting a training program for future porn stars of america.

It was that bad. Next time, dear dentist, yank the fucker. I don't care if I look like the old man on "family guy." I'm going toothless. Gerber, I'll be your adult spokesperson.


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