Fangorn

Things are really progressing with Trainer Brad. He actually opened up to me about a friendship he wants to turn into more of a romantic relationship. I gave him some wise counsel. I'm thinking that maybe we could come up with an agreement: He offers free training sessions in return for some wise relationship counseling. I think it's fair, not sure he would see it that way. And trust me, he needs the help!
The other day he had me doing more exercises to make sure my butt looks in great shape (too bad I counteract that with Ben and Jerry's and a tub of guacamole the other night from Adobo Grill...and milk duds - the best movie candy EVER!). He had me doing these mega stair climbs. A weight bench stood in front of me and it was my job to step up onto the bench and then raise my opposite knee (much like step class) and then switch each time. Unfortunately for me (and other innocent bystanders), I was wearing shorts.
Now, I've been using bikini wax as my favorite form of hair removal since I was a teenager. But the long winter months in Chicago had me not caring a bit whether or not things were ship shape. So all I kept thinking as I stepped up and raised my knee was, "I hope everything is tucked away down there and there aren't any surprises for potential audiences around me." I simply refer to it as "Fangorn." For those of you who could care less about the Lord of the Rings, you'll have no clue. It's a dense forrest that is believed to harbor scary things. Hence my reference to it.
I have decided that wearing long pants would be more suitable at this point. And it would improve my chances of being asked out on a date.
Laser hair removal definitely is something I want to look into. All you girls out there can just give me a big fat "AMEN"!!!!
I do realize that this particular story that I've shared might frighten people, but I'm working on being vulnerable and honest no matter the cost. They say that makes the best comedy.

Ticketed

This sunday I walked to my car for the first time in two days. And what did my eyes see? My car adorned in orange and white paper. Two tickets awaited my arrival on my driver-side window. Seriously, that was totally unnecessary.
I am a poor sad soul who allowed my Texas Registration sticker to expire. Now why the heck would any police officer from Illinois care that my TEXAS registration sticker had expired? I will leave the officer's name confidential but all I can say is DESPERATE to make QUOTA!
People are out and about in Wrigleyville enjoying the Cubs play the Mets. The police officers are also out and about enjoying the festival of tickets that they have waited so long to hand out. It's like the City of Chicago awaits Cub season so they can raise all sorts of money from poor souls like me! Two tickets within 24 hours of eachother...by the same person! Like I can do anything about a TEXAS registration sticker on a saturday or sunday. Give me a BREAK!!!
I'm working on it! I'm definitely contesting one of the tickets. I couldn't sleep last night because I kept dreaming police officers were stalking my car and adorning it with their equivolent of crate paper to a cheerleader. Not that I have anything against police officers. I greatly appreciate their hard work and their commitment to keeping all of us safe out there! They do indeed put their lives in danger by protecting us. But how is a registration ticket a danger? Don't answer that.
As I told my dad this morning, it just makes me want to be married so that someone can take care of me and certain areas of life that I tend to want to pass over or procrastinate on. Like getting the oil changed. Or someone to point out that I need to have my tires rotated because the tread is wearing thin. Like I have a clue about those things. All things cars just stress me out!
So I am $100 poorer but a whole world wiser. Thanks but I don't want to have to learn this lesson again...and again...and again.
I'm applying for a mail order groom who likes to take care of cars and leaks in the roof...oh and great when it comes to taxes and money. Leave me to the relationships and nurturing. Heck, I'll even cook!

Sprng Eternal: A Lunch Break Epiphany

Spring signifies a time of renewal and transformation. It does indeed! Yesterday as I was walking along Michigan Avenue I was overwhelmed by the warmth of the sun on my face and hoped that my hybernating freckles would finally appear. People walked a little slower, filled their lungs with fresh air and forgot their troubles momentarily.
I was almost giddy as I walked along the tulip lined street of the Magnificent Mile. It was as if they were about to burst into the air to greet the world. Green fragile leaves are peeking out from the stems that once encased them. It is like they are stretching and yawning from a long winter. The buzz of the people and the music of the birds filled the air.
It was enough to make me want to hug the silver robotic man on the corner of Chicago and Michigan. I wanted to hi-five the lady dressed in a business suit and running shoes. I wanted to yell to the cab driver honking his way through the busy street that I loved him! I was waiting for everyone to break out into song and dance as if we were starring in a musical.
There's hope of life renewed and the desire for transformation in all forms of life. It's amazing what spring can do.

Sweet Lovin': A Story of Passion & Betrayal

It is a love that has blossomed over the past few years. A love that has brought me much joy, satisfaction and happiness. Never could I have imagined my relationship with these two men to be so wonderful and so wrong at the same time.
Ben and Jerry. Their love surprised me one night at a grocery store. I looked through the pane of glass and my heart quickened. I began to read the characteristics of their gifts and an addiction was born. An addiction that still haunts me to this very day.
When I was training for a marathon there was so much joy in our relationship. They were a reward for my hard work, sweat and determination. I was in my own Utopia. They were my opium. Nothing could go wrong. They were a foundation built of rock in my life. If I was lonely, they were there. If I was joyful, they were there. If I was angry, they were there. And if I was bored, they were there. A pattern that could do no wrong. No wrong until I stopped my obsessive physical exertion. That's when the betrayal began.
What kind of betrayal you ask? The worst of it's kind. I gave them nothing but attention and consistent quality time. No they did not run away; instead they stuck to me like a listerine strip sticks to the roof of your mouth. A permanent nuisance to my once ideal life. Is this revenge? I don't understand why.
No matter how I try to turn my eyes or ignore my thoughts, I just cannot have enough of them. Even yesterday they got the best of me. Am I doomed to fail daily?
I sat there praying that I would have the strength to walk away. I found myself asking God for my favorite flavor to be missing from shelves of the Jewel frozen section. And I said, "If it is there, then that must mean that you want me to give into this animal-like behavior." And there as I rounded the corner, I saw it. "Everything But the..." staring me right in the face. I asked, "God, is this you?" Silence. "That must mean that You want me to have this." He replied, "Don't even bring me into this! You have the power to SAY NO!"
Oh treacherous deceit! They thwarted me into letting my guard down and moved quickly to devour my strenth. I gave in once again. AND IT SURE WAS GOOD!

Measuring Up

I think it's safe to say that I've had the same 2 bras for the past six years. Only now are they starting to wear a little. I am a little surprised that they lasted this long. The secret is to hang dry the lingerie. Normally I'm too impatient to do this but you don't mess around with a good bra.
Wednesday I thought it might be a good idea to try something new and different. I innocently walked into Vicky Secret's with my roommate to "just look around." Suddenly I was approached by a woman with a tape measure around her neck worn like a scarf. Yikes! I've seen one of these a little too recently.
She kindly asked if I was looking for anything in particular. I asked if she would point me in the direction of the bras. She said, "Have you been measured recently." I wanted to shout, "Yes! And it wasn't pleasant. My hips are not at a happy stage at the moment." But I refrained. Instead I said, "No, but I don't think I'm ready to be measured."
"But you need to be measured every 6 months. 9 out of 10 women wear the wrong sized bra."

"Yes, I can see that, but I'm not at a place right now, physically, that I want to be measured."

"Oh, you're wanting to lose weight?"
(thank you captain obvious!)

"Exactly. I'm just now coming out of winter hybernation."

"Most women gain weight over the winter and that's why you need to be measured every 6 months."

"Well, I don't want to be measured! Why buy a bra that's going to be too big for me in one month!" Plus I'm a risk taker! I might just buy a bra and not know for sure the right size. I'm crazy!
Why may I ask did I have to be accosted in a safe environment like Victoria's Secret? I thought women understood women. Apparently not. I mean, if I wanted to get measured, I'd go to the doctor or back to Brad to be completely humiliated. I was waiting for a "you're a little larger around the rib cage but you could use a training bra in the cup." NO THANK YOU!

A Bachelor Obsession

I didn't mean to do it. It wasn't in my plans. Perhaps it was a force stronger than myself that led me to turn on ABC last night to catch the last 40 minutes of The Bachelor. All I can say is, DRAMA, DRAMA, DRAMA!!!!!
I missed too much of it to really know the new cast but I caught enough of it to know that it's going to be one vicious season. All the more fun to watch!
We had an office meeting this morning in the hallway between the cubicles to discuss these important topics: 1) Who is the mole? and 2) What the heck was that with poor sweet Katie?!!
Let's start with topic #1: It seems to be a concensus in the office that it's Jenny S. Gorgeous in her own right, she's not the pageant queen/cover model the rest appear to be. Good for her! Also, she has quite a bit in common with the bachelor. So, hmmmm. We shall see.
Onto topic #2: As a Katy, I must ask, "Why is it always the Katie's of this world that get picked on, picked over, and cast to the side?!" Hello! She's totally adorable and a worthy competitor if you care to know my opinion.
Also, a guy should NEVER give advice to another guy about women. If the "host" had been a woman, Katie would have stayed on and never known she wasn't wanted. I was yelling at the t.v. and secretly waiting for Jesse to turn to Chris and say "I really wanted to give you the rose." And for Chris to reply, "Finally! I thought no one would ever notice me!"
And really, why must Chris say "Jesse, Ladies, this is the last rose" for every rose ceremony. DUH! I think we can see that and the women have been counting down the roses since the first one was handed out. He gets paid for this?!!!
And why do I care so much about this? I have no idea. And did you see the previews for the season? Two words: CAT FIGHT!

Humiliation at its Finest

It's that time of year again. The time of year when you look at yourself in the mirror for the first time in 6 months and wonder "How in the world am I going to fit into last years' bikini?" You begin having visions of yourself being arrested on the beach for indecency and the lack of discretion for wearing such a thing when you're not "physically fit" enough. Why can't America be like Italy? You see great grandmothers, obese men and women and everyother body type wearing bikinis and speedos. No one gawks horrifically at someone who has a patch of cellulite on the thighs and turns to their friend to say, "No one who looks like that should wear a bikini!" Personally, I think that's just insecurity speaking. Or maybe I am facing trial for comments like those that I spoke years ago.
Enough with that rampage. I faced a humiliating reality last week when I went to the gym to have my "physical accessment" done. Now as someone who has prided herself on great physical fitness and muscular tone, the 5 month Chicago winter has hit me like a chicago-style pizza in the thighs.
Sweet Brad, my trainer. 23 year old, just out of college Brad had the opportunity to squash my pride to the size of a nanoatom-molecularproton-amoeba thing. Lucky him. At 6am on a Monday morning he pointed towards a certain object against the wall and looked on with horror and disbelief. How could I weigh that much?!!!!!! Then came the torcher utensils. Plyer like tong things that pinch your skin and tell you how fat you are.
Three areas where most women develop insecurities:

1)The back of the upper arm.
2)The side of the stomach that rolls when you bend sideways to pick up something off the floor.
3)The abdomen directly next to the belly button that is often mutilated by the indention of pants zippers.

Not once, not twice, but three times did these areas of my body have to be pinched! Picture this:
Brad on his knees with my shirt lifted above my belly button while he takes his two fingers to grab my belly button and the skin beside only to squeeze it with this sharp tong-like object. Run on sentence...for a moment of time that kept running on.
One would think that I would be motivated enough after that humiliating incident. But no! Last night I had a gourmet shmorgasbord of fine foods at a friends house. And did I watch what I ate? Well I sure did watch the food disappear from the table and into my mouth in record like speed. I almost couldn't breath. Good times.
Learn from me. Learn from my mistakes. And live happily!

Urban Chic

Sometimes I can be known for my impulsive shopping sprees. But this one was no fault of mine. I have to blame it on Spring. Yes, Spring, as in the season. I knew something was amiss when my entire office went out on a shopping venture for our lunch break on Friday. We have been bitten by the bug. The bug that makes us long for something new and adventurous. No doubt the fact that we are so sick of wearing our coats and sweaters for sixth months in a row has a little something to do with this. But it was not clothes that I was after on a warm and sunny saturday morning. I wanted transportation!
Spring often lends itself to nostalgia in my little world. I could almost hear the ice cream trucks, sprinklers spraying, the sound of the community pool and a tennis match playing in the background while I nap on the couch. It also made me think of days of old when I would ride my bike with my dad to a local diner and we didn't worry about the potential danger an environmentally conscious person could face on the road.
So what did I do when I passed a neighborhood bicycle shop? I went in of course. I was also attracted to the "Super Sale" sign grandly displayed on the outside of the store.
I walked out of there with an Urban Chic bike. It's nothing fancy and definitely not decked out, but it's cool enough. I even had a rack put on the back so that I can go to the grocery store. It is commuter friendly and stylish. How hip I must have looked as I had a saddle bag filled with groceries riding down Halsted. Let's hope there was little resemblance to the wicked witch that taunted Dorothy and Toto. I can almost hear the song in my head. Oh God, please no.
So now I am officially Urban Chic. I am free from the dependency on a car. I can ride my bike anywhere I may choose and not have to worry about parking. That's freedom. And I'll save a few bucks too due to the rising prices of gasoline.
I keep trying to remember my bicycle safety class in second grade. I even whipped out a hand signal yesterday at a stop sign. I do remember some of the things I was taught in my youth!
Freedom on the road. That's me.

Morning Breath Commute

As I sat on the el this morning, I had an epiphany. This was in no way a self-propelled realization. Instead it was forced upon me by a sudden waft of an unidentifiable odor. But as it came in and out like waves on a shore, I studied it and came to a conclusion. Morning Breath. Please, is it really necessary to open your mouth everytime you beathe? If it is, a nice brush before the morning commute would be nice. If not for your own well-being and the well-being of your teeth, then for the good of all those who are forced to ride along with you on this journey. There are different kinds of odors that can be caused by this olfactory damaging disease we like to call "halitosis." There is the, "I just had cereal and milk but was too lazy to brush my teeth" odor. We can't forget the most well known of all, the "I had to have my morning coffee on the way to work while I read my paper" breath. Some opt for the "I was running late for work and forgot to brush my teeth and didn't have time to change my underwear" aroma.
You see, these are the things I ponder as I ride to work. The first half of the ride I look out longingly at the bright blue sky and the chirping birds. The second half I am resolved to think due to the tunnel effect. I have to be careful not to think too much or I will be overcome by claustrophobic-like symptoms.
All in all, I will probably have much to say about my commute to and fro. It provides me much amusement.