Saturday, October 10, 2009
Max Factor 2000 calorie extreme lash plumper
My new favorite cosmetic is the Max Factor 2000 Calorie Extreme Lash Plumper. I recently had an unfavorable change in my hours at work. I've been in a foul mood every day since. BUT, I have found some pleasure in starting my day in a new way. I have to get to work about 30 minutes early so I can get a parking spot. I sit in my car, turn up the radio (I'm not allowed to listen to music at work any longer), and apply my new Max Factor mascara. I read online somewhere that it works best if you "blink" your lashes over the wand instead of stroking or swiping the wand over your lashes. I usually put on a coat and then let it dry before putting on another coat. I have found that 3 coats does the trick for me. I LOVE the way my lashes look. I look like I'm wearing false lashes (which I want to try doing some day). During the day, I find myself feeling "good" because I know my eyelashes look hot. I will have to say that I have not worn mascara in a LONG time. I tend to wipe my eyes a lot during the day and end up looking like a raccoon. But, I'm being really conscious of it now and have less of a problem with that. I got my Max Factor at Kmart for $9.99. It is the non-waterproof version. I tried to get the waterproof version at Ulta this past week, but they were out. It was $9.99 there as well. The cashier at the Ulta said that they could not keep it on the shelves since it was in O Magazine. This is where I read about it as well. In the article it states that Max Factor will not be sold in the states after January, so I am going to have to stock up if I decide that this mascara is worth it.
Friday, October 9, 2009
"The" weight gain/loss journey...part 2
My parents encouraged me to participate in activities just like any other kid when I was growing up. They watched as I tried out for activities only to be turned down most times. In my heart, I was always an athlete. I remember trying out for the girls basketball team in middle school. I wanted so badly to do well. I seemed to forget that I was not only fat, but really short too. I even had the nerve to try out for cheerleading. Although Mrs. Callahan was a ruthless typing teacher, she was extremely kind cheerleading coach and let me down easy after the tryouts. I have always had the spirit of a thin person. I often feel invincible until I try to move and realize that my body can't do what my brain wants to.
I was kind of active when I was a kid. I was about as active as a kid could be being confined to a school desk for the majority of the day. I loved school, but I hated gym class. My body was awkward. It also didn't help that I was extremely clumsy. I have always suffered from ear infections all of my life and have terrible balance issues. Even now, I fall and hurt myself because I feel like the world is zooming around too fast. But, in gym class, I was just not comfortable moving my body in front of people. Most times I would be hurt, have a note from my mom or doctor, and have to sit out of gym class anyway. Once while attending Linkhorne Middle School, we were playing basketball in gym class. A pencil rolled out onto the basketball court and I slipped up on it. Out of that entire basketball court, my foot found that one little pencil. When I went to the doctor that evening (I ended up having a sprained elbow and had to wear a sling) he asked me if my parents were abusing me. I was in his office so much that he couldn't believe that I was actually hurt so much by accident. I laughed as I explained that I was just a clutz.
Most days after school I played tennis, played basketball, rode my bike, and went for walks. I loved being inside though. I loved studying, reading, and watching TV and movies. My favorite thing to do was dance. Both of my parents worked and I would be home alone for at least 2 hours before my parents would show up. I would call my mom to let her know that I had gotten home safely and immediately raid the refrigerator. I would then watch TV until Dance Party USA came on the USA channel. I LOVED that show. I would dance and dance. I used to dream about being on that show. I would get to hang out with Princessa or Kelly Ripa and be on TV for the world (it was the world to me) to see. Dancing was a big part of my life. When I was in elementary school, I took ballet and tap lessons for years. Mrs. Carol Riggs told my mom that I had wonderfully expressive hands and that I was amazingly graceful. But, there came the time when I had to stop dancing lessons because my weight would not allow me to progress and go en pointe. My weight was too much for my toes. I was crushed. I had longed to wear the long tutu and get a beautiful pair of silky pink pointe shoes. I gave up on tap dancing too. But, I never gave up on dancing totally. I would dance all of the time when I was at home and still do. I had this habit of trying on new clothes and seeing if they passed "the dance test". I suppose I thought every outfit should be ready to bust a dance move at any moment. I would also listen to John Garabedian's Open House Party on K92 every Saturday and Sunday night. I would dance from 7pm until midnight in the hallway outside of my bedroom. My mom wanted to be a professional dancer when she was younger. I must have gotten the dance fever from her. In my house I could move anyway I wanted to and not have to think about my body.
Looking back I can totally see how my weight issues began. I am NOT going to ever blame anyone else for my weight gain. I am responsible for my weight issues. Even as a child, I was a smart kid and knew what I was doing. My parents only did what they knew to do. They are NOT responsible for what I've become. I'm an only child (I had a brother that died as an infant 2 years before I was born) and totally spoiled. I have always been a manipulator, especially when it comes to food. That is what makes me think that my issues stem from an addiction to food. For the first 3 or 4 years of my life, I was very sick. I had bad tonsils and they prevented me from keeping much food down. I was always throwing up when I was younger. But, when I was 5 years old, my tonsils were removed and I could freely eat. I was, and still am, uncontrollable around food. I was in nursery school when I discovered that food comforted me. I would have breakfast at home each morning and then have the free breakfast when I got to nursery school. After nursery school, I would be dropped off at my Grandma's house. She would give me a snack, my uncle would give me one, and my Daddy would too. Then, I would go home and have dinner. I have always loved Good Humor strawberry shortcake bars. At my Grandmother's house I was also not allowed to go outside and play because she was afraid that someone would kidnap me. I would sit and watch TV for hours until my parents got off from work and would take me home. Food gave me something to do that I loved.
Being home alone after school was scary and I was bored. Food comforted me in that situation too. After I blazed through the snacks after school, I was often left bored and ready to eat some more. But, there would be nothing to eat. So, I fixed that. I learned to cook. I was always mature for my age and could be trusted with dangerous things like a stove. I would whip up cakes, pies, turkey divan, chicken a la orange, and anything "instant". My parents appreciated it after a hard day at work. I was just thinking about how the food would be prepared already and we could go on and eat. Elementary school was about the time I also started developing a love of sodas.
As I got older, my relationship with food deteriorated even further. In high school I gave up on losing weight. Only twice in my life, up until that point, had I been able to lose significant amounts of weight. Once was on the old all-you-can eat pickle/mustard/tea diet. My pediatrician put me on that diet the summer before 5th grade. When I went back to school to register that fall, no one recognized me. That summer was torture. I do remember being allowed to drink "milkshakes" made from skim milk, cherries, and bananas. I learned to enjoy the milkshakes because everything else was so terrible. The second time I lost weight was due to being homesick. I had gone off to the University of Virginia for their Summer Enrichment Program (a program for smarty kids) the summer before 7th grade (I think). The 1 hour and 30 minute distance from Lynchburg seemed like thousands of miles away. I was homesick and didn't eat most of the time I was there. We were also walking everywhere. I was hot, hungry, and miserable the entire time. I recently asked my mom how long the program was because it seemed like I was there for months of torture. It was only for 2 weeks! I lost so much weight in that 2 weeks that my parents didn't recognize me when they came to pick me up.
Again, I gave up by high school. I just figure that I was made this way and there was no use in trying to change it. Then came something I was not used to...love. Ok, puppy love. I had my first crush when I was in middle school. He was a family friend and I had just seen him as an annoying boy that I knew. All of a sudden he wasn't so annoying anymore. I would only see him when our families infrequently visited each other and soon my heart was filled by someone else. High school was when I started to really "find" myself. I will say that my high school years were the best years of my life. It's sad to think that 4 years out of my life from 20 years ago would be the best time period in my life (thus far). AND, that compared to most, it wasn't that great of a time. I was starting to feel more comfortable with who I was. I had figured out what I was good at and focused on those things. I was fairly good at academics. I studied hard because I knew that I had to get into college. I joined organizations with others that made me comfortable. No one ever "made fun" of my weight and I felt like a typical high school student. Yes, I would have loved to have been an athlete or a cheerleader. But, I found happiness in other things and all was good. The only time my weight seemed to really bother me was when it came to boys.
I was kind of active when I was a kid. I was about as active as a kid could be being confined to a school desk for the majority of the day. I loved school, but I hated gym class. My body was awkward. It also didn't help that I was extremely clumsy. I have always suffered from ear infections all of my life and have terrible balance issues. Even now, I fall and hurt myself because I feel like the world is zooming around too fast. But, in gym class, I was just not comfortable moving my body in front of people. Most times I would be hurt, have a note from my mom or doctor, and have to sit out of gym class anyway. Once while attending Linkhorne Middle School, we were playing basketball in gym class. A pencil rolled out onto the basketball court and I slipped up on it. Out of that entire basketball court, my foot found that one little pencil. When I went to the doctor that evening (I ended up having a sprained elbow and had to wear a sling) he asked me if my parents were abusing me. I was in his office so much that he couldn't believe that I was actually hurt so much by accident. I laughed as I explained that I was just a clutz.
Most days after school I played tennis, played basketball, rode my bike, and went for walks. I loved being inside though. I loved studying, reading, and watching TV and movies. My favorite thing to do was dance. Both of my parents worked and I would be home alone for at least 2 hours before my parents would show up. I would call my mom to let her know that I had gotten home safely and immediately raid the refrigerator. I would then watch TV until Dance Party USA came on the USA channel. I LOVED that show. I would dance and dance. I used to dream about being on that show. I would get to hang out with Princessa or Kelly Ripa and be on TV for the world (it was the world to me) to see. Dancing was a big part of my life. When I was in elementary school, I took ballet and tap lessons for years. Mrs. Carol Riggs told my mom that I had wonderfully expressive hands and that I was amazingly graceful. But, there came the time when I had to stop dancing lessons because my weight would not allow me to progress and go en pointe. My weight was too much for my toes. I was crushed. I had longed to wear the long tutu and get a beautiful pair of silky pink pointe shoes. I gave up on tap dancing too. But, I never gave up on dancing totally. I would dance all of the time when I was at home and still do. I had this habit of trying on new clothes and seeing if they passed "the dance test". I suppose I thought every outfit should be ready to bust a dance move at any moment. I would also listen to John Garabedian's Open House Party on K92 every Saturday and Sunday night. I would dance from 7pm until midnight in the hallway outside of my bedroom. My mom wanted to be a professional dancer when she was younger. I must have gotten the dance fever from her. In my house I could move anyway I wanted to and not have to think about my body.
Looking back I can totally see how my weight issues began. I am NOT going to ever blame anyone else for my weight gain. I am responsible for my weight issues. Even as a child, I was a smart kid and knew what I was doing. My parents only did what they knew to do. They are NOT responsible for what I've become. I'm an only child (I had a brother that died as an infant 2 years before I was born) and totally spoiled. I have always been a manipulator, especially when it comes to food. That is what makes me think that my issues stem from an addiction to food. For the first 3 or 4 years of my life, I was very sick. I had bad tonsils and they prevented me from keeping much food down. I was always throwing up when I was younger. But, when I was 5 years old, my tonsils were removed and I could freely eat. I was, and still am, uncontrollable around food. I was in nursery school when I discovered that food comforted me. I would have breakfast at home each morning and then have the free breakfast when I got to nursery school. After nursery school, I would be dropped off at my Grandma's house. She would give me a snack, my uncle would give me one, and my Daddy would too. Then, I would go home and have dinner. I have always loved Good Humor strawberry shortcake bars. At my Grandmother's house I was also not allowed to go outside and play because she was afraid that someone would kidnap me. I would sit and watch TV for hours until my parents got off from work and would take me home. Food gave me something to do that I loved.
Being home alone after school was scary and I was bored. Food comforted me in that situation too. After I blazed through the snacks after school, I was often left bored and ready to eat some more. But, there would be nothing to eat. So, I fixed that. I learned to cook. I was always mature for my age and could be trusted with dangerous things like a stove. I would whip up cakes, pies, turkey divan, chicken a la orange, and anything "instant". My parents appreciated it after a hard day at work. I was just thinking about how the food would be prepared already and we could go on and eat. Elementary school was about the time I also started developing a love of sodas.
As I got older, my relationship with food deteriorated even further. In high school I gave up on losing weight. Only twice in my life, up until that point, had I been able to lose significant amounts of weight. Once was on the old all-you-can eat pickle/mustard/tea diet. My pediatrician put me on that diet the summer before 5th grade. When I went back to school to register that fall, no one recognized me. That summer was torture. I do remember being allowed to drink "milkshakes" made from skim milk, cherries, and bananas. I learned to enjoy the milkshakes because everything else was so terrible. The second time I lost weight was due to being homesick. I had gone off to the University of Virginia for their Summer Enrichment Program (a program for smarty kids) the summer before 7th grade (I think). The 1 hour and 30 minute distance from Lynchburg seemed like thousands of miles away. I was homesick and didn't eat most of the time I was there. We were also walking everywhere. I was hot, hungry, and miserable the entire time. I recently asked my mom how long the program was because it seemed like I was there for months of torture. It was only for 2 weeks! I lost so much weight in that 2 weeks that my parents didn't recognize me when they came to pick me up.
Again, I gave up by high school. I just figure that I was made this way and there was no use in trying to change it. Then came something I was not used to...love. Ok, puppy love. I had my first crush when I was in middle school. He was a family friend and I had just seen him as an annoying boy that I knew. All of a sudden he wasn't so annoying anymore. I would only see him when our families infrequently visited each other and soon my heart was filled by someone else. High school was when I started to really "find" myself. I will say that my high school years were the best years of my life. It's sad to think that 4 years out of my life from 20 years ago would be the best time period in my life (thus far). AND, that compared to most, it wasn't that great of a time. I was starting to feel more comfortable with who I was. I had figured out what I was good at and focused on those things. I was fairly good at academics. I studied hard because I knew that I had to get into college. I joined organizations with others that made me comfortable. No one ever "made fun" of my weight and I felt like a typical high school student. Yes, I would have loved to have been an athlete or a cheerleader. But, I found happiness in other things and all was good. The only time my weight seemed to really bother me was when it came to boys.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
"The" weight gain/loss journey...the beginnings
I started this blog in the hopes that I would be able to find out more about myself as well as other people. I love learning from other people. I want to learn what works for other people and how I can help myself. In saying that, I want to be honest and open about myself. It may take many posts before I will get all of my background out to you, but I will write each day and try.
The biggest lesson I have to learn about relates to my weight. I have been overweight since I was about 5 years old. Wait a minute. I should say that I have been FAT since I was 5 years old. There I said it. Fat. Fat. Fat. Not overweight. Not chubby. Not fluffy, pudgy, plump, or zaftique. Fat. OK. I've said it. I'm trying to be more honest with myself. This is the first step. I'm saying that I'm fat. Moving on.
I have tried many many many diets. I've learned something from each one of them and I've even lost some weight on them. But, the weight never stayed off. I was on a diet when I was 8 years old once. On that diet I could have all of the mustard, unsweetened tea, and dill pickles that I wanted. Trouble was...I didn't want any of that crap. Back in those days, the goal of most diets was just to lose weight. It didn't matter whether it tasted good or whether one could maintain that lifestyle. When I was in elementary school, my mother went on the Nutrisystem program. Back then, all of the food items were packed in nondescript cans with white labels and black writing. You even had to go to their "store" and pick up your "groceries" for the week. When Mama would plop the food on a plate it looked and smelled (so she says) like dog food. But, having had the pleasure of mainly eating my mustard, dill pickles, and unsweetened tea, I devoured her "dog food" and wanted seconds. She hated the stuff so why let it go to waste? She lost weight because she wasn't eating and I gained because I was eating.
I can remember when I was about 5 years old having one pediatrician humiliate me and make me feel bad about being fat. I had been a pretty average sized kid until I had my tonsils removed when I was 5. Suddenly, I went from not being able to eat to being able to eat everything in sight. At first, my family thought I would grow out of it. They even thought it was kind of cute. I was the cute pudgy kid. As I got older, however, they realized that I was fat and that this wasn't normal. They tried not to alarm me to the seriousness of my situation and tried to make me feel as normal as possible.
The biggest lesson I have to learn about relates to my weight. I have been overweight since I was about 5 years old. Wait a minute. I should say that I have been FAT since I was 5 years old. There I said it. Fat. Fat. Fat. Not overweight. Not chubby. Not fluffy, pudgy, plump, or zaftique. Fat. OK. I've said it. I'm trying to be more honest with myself. This is the first step. I'm saying that I'm fat. Moving on.
I have tried many many many diets. I've learned something from each one of them and I've even lost some weight on them. But, the weight never stayed off. I was on a diet when I was 8 years old once. On that diet I could have all of the mustard, unsweetened tea, and dill pickles that I wanted. Trouble was...I didn't want any of that crap. Back in those days, the goal of most diets was just to lose weight. It didn't matter whether it tasted good or whether one could maintain that lifestyle. When I was in elementary school, my mother went on the Nutrisystem program. Back then, all of the food items were packed in nondescript cans with white labels and black writing. You even had to go to their "store" and pick up your "groceries" for the week. When Mama would plop the food on a plate it looked and smelled (so she says) like dog food. But, having had the pleasure of mainly eating my mustard, dill pickles, and unsweetened tea, I devoured her "dog food" and wanted seconds. She hated the stuff so why let it go to waste? She lost weight because she wasn't eating and I gained because I was eating.
I can remember when I was about 5 years old having one pediatrician humiliate me and make me feel bad about being fat. I had been a pretty average sized kid until I had my tonsils removed when I was 5. Suddenly, I went from not being able to eat to being able to eat everything in sight. At first, my family thought I would grow out of it. They even thought it was kind of cute. I was the cute pudgy kid. As I got older, however, they realized that I was fat and that this wasn't normal. They tried not to alarm me to the seriousness of my situation and tried to make me feel as normal as possible.
Another day at the office
I could hear the soft chatter of two of my co-workers as they talked from the back of the office about what they saw on TV last night. The Lifetime channel was a favorite for them. In between the chatter there were long and loud sips from their coffee cups. I managed to sit at my desk and Facebook an old friend for 10 minutes before anyone noticed that I was in the office. Oldie and Smarty appeared from the back with their coffee cups plastered to their wrinkled lips. They seemed surprised when they saw me at my desk. I could not hear everything that they were previously talking about, but chances were some portion of it was about me and my "attitude". Smarty asked how my night was, opened the door and left all in one motion. She didn't stick around to get my response. I hadn't planned on giving her one anyway. Oldie sat down at her desk, creaking all the way down into her seat. Smarty came back in the office from her smoke- break and rushed to her desk as if checking her Facebook account was an urgent matter. There was complete silence except for the clicking of our computer keys.
And then, in comes Cherry. She's only 30 minutes late today. When her hand touches the door her mouth instantly starts to produce words. She waves her hand in a general motion of "hello" to everyone and starts talking about how her youngest son just couldn't stand to leave her today when she dropped him off at school, how she was tired from baking from-scratch cupcakes last night for her other son's class, how her husband and her just had to celebrate his getting a part in the newest play at the local theater. All of this was said as she breezed through the office, past our desks, and into her office. Smarty immediately ran into Cherry's office to help her put her purse up and get her out of her coat. Oldie had a huge, fake grin on her face. I just sat there staring at all of them as the reality hit me that I was in this situation.
Smarty brought a fresh mug of coffee into Cherry's office and sat it on her desk. She warned Cherry that it was fresh brewed and for her to let it cool down before she drank it. I couldn't believe Smarty felt she had to tell an adult woman not to drink scolding hot coffee. Smarty told Cherry that she had prepared cassoulet and coq au vin for dinner. I had noticed that she always pronounced her cooking endeavors with an accent that matched the country of origin. I almost peed myself from laughter once when she told of the night she made Swedish cuisine and pronounced fiskbuller and isterband like the Swedish Chef from the Muppets. Like my husband always says, "you can buy an education, but you can't buy class". Cherry and Smarty seemed completely engrossed in each other. I noticed that they looked each other in the eyes when the talked to each other. I just can't do that. I can't look people in the eyes. It makes me want to laugh. Or, I'm always looking for boogers peeking out of their noses or hair growing in weird places. I was ripped away from my thoughts when Oldie stood up from her chair and her right knee got fired up for the morning. She shook her legs like an athlete preparing for a high jump and then pranced into Cherry's office. I watched the three of them. I saw something at that moment that caught my attention. I noticed that Cherry and Smarty were wearing the same pendant on their necklaces. This friendship is out of control. Oldie was soon sitting in a chair in Cherry's office all to herself with no one paying attention to her. She was in deep thought. What was on her mind?
And then, in comes Cherry. She's only 30 minutes late today. When her hand touches the door her mouth instantly starts to produce words. She waves her hand in a general motion of "hello" to everyone and starts talking about how her youngest son just couldn't stand to leave her today when she dropped him off at school, how she was tired from baking from-scratch cupcakes last night for her other son's class, how her husband and her just had to celebrate his getting a part in the newest play at the local theater. All of this was said as she breezed through the office, past our desks, and into her office. Smarty immediately ran into Cherry's office to help her put her purse up and get her out of her coat. Oldie had a huge, fake grin on her face. I just sat there staring at all of them as the reality hit me that I was in this situation.
Smarty brought a fresh mug of coffee into Cherry's office and sat it on her desk. She warned Cherry that it was fresh brewed and for her to let it cool down before she drank it. I couldn't believe Smarty felt she had to tell an adult woman not to drink scolding hot coffee. Smarty told Cherry that she had prepared cassoulet and coq au vin for dinner. I had noticed that she always pronounced her cooking endeavors with an accent that matched the country of origin. I almost peed myself from laughter once when she told of the night she made Swedish cuisine and pronounced fiskbuller and isterband like the Swedish Chef from the Muppets. Like my husband always says, "you can buy an education, but you can't buy class". Cherry and Smarty seemed completely engrossed in each other. I noticed that they looked each other in the eyes when the talked to each other. I just can't do that. I can't look people in the eyes. It makes me want to laugh. Or, I'm always looking for boogers peeking out of their noses or hair growing in weird places. I was ripped away from my thoughts when Oldie stood up from her chair and her right knee got fired up for the morning. She shook her legs like an athlete preparing for a high jump and then pranced into Cherry's office. I watched the three of them. I saw something at that moment that caught my attention. I noticed that Cherry and Smarty were wearing the same pendant on their necklaces. This friendship is out of control. Oldie was soon sitting in a chair in Cherry's office all to herself with no one paying attention to her. She was in deep thought. What was on her mind?
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
The start of a tale...Papercuts
I walked up to the office door and aggressively grabbed the cold handle. The thud of resistance was a surprise to me being that I knew my co- workers were already there. Our office doesn't open until 8:30am, but those happy idiots were always there by 8:00am. I also knew that they were probably all huddled in the far back of the office drinking coffee and telling tales of their uneventful evenings. I grumbled as I viced my notebook under my chin, tucked my water bottle into the bend of my arm, and unzipped my purse. That keycard has to be in there somewhere. I swiped the card and the door to Hell...I mean, work opened. As I came into the office, all three of my co-workers appeared, coffee cups in hand. I rolled my eyes and sat down at my desk ready to start the long painful day here at Any Office USA.
Maybe I should introduce myself. My name is Sassy. Sassy McGhee. I've been working at Any Office USA (or AO USA, as we call it) for about 2 years now. It has been the longest, most torturous 2 years in my working life. We don't do exciting work here. Actually, we do pretty useless work here. But, don't most offices? We are a paper pushing company. No! Literally we push papers/ forms all day. We get forms in the mail. We separate and sort the forms. We photocopy the forms. We staple the forms. We file the forms. We unfile the forms. We shred the forms. What forms are they? Who knows. I don't think any of us have even looked at the forms. We're too busy shuffling the forms on our desks so we look like we are busy. But, the forms are not what make the office remotely interesting. It is my co-workers.
When I first interviewed at AO USA, I was so excited. The job description seemed right up my alley. I would be working for an "official" business with high security information. I would need to be trusted to not divulge confidential information. I would build a repoire with customers and provide a service that they desperately needed. Well...I don't know where that job went to, but I sure don't do it. I push papers all day. I have to stretch 1 hour's worth of work out to 8 hours. It can be a challenge sometimes. There are but so many bathroom breaks one can take in a workday. Maybe I just haven't mastered the art of wasting time. My co-workers sure have.
Directly across the room from me sits my co-worker Oldie Gilly. Oldie is 61 years old and just going through the motions until she can retire. Now, she is one to go to the bathroom A LOT during the day. I can only imagine her standing in there staring at the "no smoking" sign or perhaps doing toe touches while sitting on the toilet. She pees more than a baby. It pisses me off because she conveniently has to pee whenever the phone rings or there is some problem with the paper. It is funny to watch her get up from her desk to make the 20 second walk to the bathroom. She has to gear herself up and get her body prepared for every movement. When she finally does stand up, body parts start crackling like it's the 4th of July. One day her knee popped so loudly that I hit the deck for fear of being hit by a bullet from whatever attack we were under. She also has this weird shaped figure. She's thin everywhere except her stomach. She looks like a mother kangaroo carrying around her joey. This state is accentuated by her khaki skirts which she pulls up to her bust line. There's just boobs and gut, no torso really. Her round glasses always sit perched on the tip of her nose threatening to flee at any moment. Oldie isn't as much annoying as she is just plain old boring.
Our boss, Cherry Odom, is a real work of art. Cherry is still living in her heydays of the 80s. I can only imagine what she was like as a young woman in the 80s. At 43 years old, she still talks like a Valley Girl. When "Oh, my God!" comes out of her mouth, I feel like I'm being gagged with a spoon until I barf. Her hairdo is straight out of a John Parr video. It's a mullet with a hybrid of grey, blond, and brown. Rumor has it that she got pregnant when she was 16 years old and gave the kid up for adoption. She was adopted herself. I think being adopted is the root of her extreme Type A personality. She is very competitive, really aggressive and constantly worried about whom she knows and what she's done. My philosophy is that she is this way because she wants to feel better about the fact that she was abandoned by her birth parents. She is constantly trying to prove something to herself and everyone around her. If you have done something, she says that she's done it better. It's a wonder her husband, Baldo, hasn't run off to the desert to live with the coyotes. He would, at least, be a man around them.
The other co-worker is Cherry's best friend, Smarty Handy. She is also aggitating. She is just an extension of Cherry. Her reason for being a Type A is similar. She, too, feels that she is not good enough and is stuck in the 80s. She barely finished high school before marrying the first man who kissed her. She was divorced with one child by the age of 19. Four more children, each with a different father, would follow for the next few years. She got ahead back in her 20s by flinging her long bleached blond hair whenever a man was involved. She soon landed a good job and could pretend to have more education than she actually did. Her days were now filled with obeying the whims of her friend, Cherry, who was providing her income as her employer. She spent much of the day throwing around "big" words so others wouldn't question her validity in the organization. She too felt that she needed to do something right in her life. She had managed to raise five children who were now all adults living under her roof. She longed for the life of an educated, successful socialite.
The powers-that-be seemed to not notice or care that there were four people pushing the forms all day, when the job could have been done in half a day by one person. Cherry made sure that Smarty was looked after first. Everyone else were just pawns in the game to accomplish the paper pushing. Cherry was in control. Or, was she?
Maybe I should introduce myself. My name is Sassy. Sassy McGhee. I've been working at Any Office USA (or AO USA, as we call it) for about 2 years now. It has been the longest, most torturous 2 years in my working life. We don't do exciting work here. Actually, we do pretty useless work here. But, don't most offices? We are a paper pushing company. No! Literally we push papers/ forms all day. We get forms in the mail. We separate and sort the forms. We photocopy the forms. We staple the forms. We file the forms. We unfile the forms. We shred the forms. What forms are they? Who knows. I don't think any of us have even looked at the forms. We're too busy shuffling the forms on our desks so we look like we are busy. But, the forms are not what make the office remotely interesting. It is my co-workers.
When I first interviewed at AO USA, I was so excited. The job description seemed right up my alley. I would be working for an "official" business with high security information. I would need to be trusted to not divulge confidential information. I would build a repoire with customers and provide a service that they desperately needed. Well...I don't know where that job went to, but I sure don't do it. I push papers all day. I have to stretch 1 hour's worth of work out to 8 hours. It can be a challenge sometimes. There are but so many bathroom breaks one can take in a workday. Maybe I just haven't mastered the art of wasting time. My co-workers sure have.
Directly across the room from me sits my co-worker Oldie Gilly. Oldie is 61 years old and just going through the motions until she can retire. Now, she is one to go to the bathroom A LOT during the day. I can only imagine her standing in there staring at the "no smoking" sign or perhaps doing toe touches while sitting on the toilet. She pees more than a baby. It pisses me off because she conveniently has to pee whenever the phone rings or there is some problem with the paper. It is funny to watch her get up from her desk to make the 20 second walk to the bathroom. She has to gear herself up and get her body prepared for every movement. When she finally does stand up, body parts start crackling like it's the 4th of July. One day her knee popped so loudly that I hit the deck for fear of being hit by a bullet from whatever attack we were under. She also has this weird shaped figure. She's thin everywhere except her stomach. She looks like a mother kangaroo carrying around her joey. This state is accentuated by her khaki skirts which she pulls up to her bust line. There's just boobs and gut, no torso really. Her round glasses always sit perched on the tip of her nose threatening to flee at any moment. Oldie isn't as much annoying as she is just plain old boring.
Our boss, Cherry Odom, is a real work of art. Cherry is still living in her heydays of the 80s. I can only imagine what she was like as a young woman in the 80s. At 43 years old, she still talks like a Valley Girl. When "Oh, my God!" comes out of her mouth, I feel like I'm being gagged with a spoon until I barf. Her hairdo is straight out of a John Parr video. It's a mullet with a hybrid of grey, blond, and brown. Rumor has it that she got pregnant when she was 16 years old and gave the kid up for adoption. She was adopted herself. I think being adopted is the root of her extreme Type A personality. She is very competitive, really aggressive and constantly worried about whom she knows and what she's done. My philosophy is that she is this way because she wants to feel better about the fact that she was abandoned by her birth parents. She is constantly trying to prove something to herself and everyone around her. If you have done something, she says that she's done it better. It's a wonder her husband, Baldo, hasn't run off to the desert to live with the coyotes. He would, at least, be a man around them.
The other co-worker is Cherry's best friend, Smarty Handy. She is also aggitating. She is just an extension of Cherry. Her reason for being a Type A is similar. She, too, feels that she is not good enough and is stuck in the 80s. She barely finished high school before marrying the first man who kissed her. She was divorced with one child by the age of 19. Four more children, each with a different father, would follow for the next few years. She got ahead back in her 20s by flinging her long bleached blond hair whenever a man was involved. She soon landed a good job and could pretend to have more education than she actually did. Her days were now filled with obeying the whims of her friend, Cherry, who was providing her income as her employer. She spent much of the day throwing around "big" words so others wouldn't question her validity in the organization. She too felt that she needed to do something right in her life. She had managed to raise five children who were now all adults living under her roof. She longed for the life of an educated, successful socialite.
The powers-that-be seemed to not notice or care that there were four people pushing the forms all day, when the job could have been done in half a day by one person. Cherry made sure that Smarty was looked after first. Everyone else were just pawns in the game to accomplish the paper pushing. Cherry was in control. Or, was she?
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
My blog decisions
I am going to figure out how to do this blogging thing the right way. I have so many interests that it would probably be best to categorize them in some way. I've gotta figure out how to do that. My main focus is to talk about my weight loss journey and how it is a factor in most things that I do. I also hope that as I loss weight, it will inspire someone else to do it too. I'll do some research on how to hook up the blog and I'll be back soon.
The start...again
It always seems that I'm "starting" something. I'm always starting a new hobby. I'm always starting a new diet. I'm always starting a new class. Now that I'm 37 years old, I want to stop JUST "starting" and actually finish. But, for now, this blog is yet another "start". Hopefully, this start will actually see me through to a finish.
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