Category Archives: Rants
This post came out sounding a lot more disgruntled than I intended it to. I guess it’s a combination of tiredness and… Well, no, mostly just the fact that I’m sleepy! (-_^)
This whole fitness thing is so strange. I’m just starting to feel like my old self again, that old strength returning to these tired (recovering) bones. I’m starting to feel strong again, which is a huge relief, and on top of that, I’ve been losing weight. And that’s the weird part. I mean, yes, weight-loss was part of The Plan, but it wasn’t the main goal. I do need to lose weight if I want to run and not wreck my poor knees, so bit by little bit, it’s coming off. The thing is, I’m not losing it uniformly. I’ve noticed a lot of change around my face, and my legs are starting to tone up nicely (I’m getting that nice “line” of muscle back on my calves! Woo!) and my hands and wrists are looking less sausage-y.
It’s all disproportionate! My waist has decreased, but not nearly as much as my legs, so my new pants that were fitting so nicely all over are now pretty much the same in the waist, but starting to get baggy on my legs. It’s so irritating!
I keep hitting weird plateaus where for a week or two my weight stays EXACTLY the same. Every weight in. EXACTLY THE SAME. And my scale goes to the first decimal. This past week and a half was like that. Every couple of days or so. Same time. Same conditions. SAME EXACT WEIGHT TO THE FIRST DECIMAL! I started to think my scale was broken. Finally, though, this morning when I weighed myself I’d magically dropped over a pound since Tuesday. Odd. (And yes, I know this sounds contradictory to the “weight doesn’t matter” thing, but after progressing pretty steadily, these little speed bumps are irksome.)
And on top of weird weight-loss woes, the lovely wardrobe I’ve spent the last three years accruing with my grown-up teacher salary, mostly doesn’t fit me anymore. I still have some clothes from ages ago that kind of fit, but it’s that back of the closet stuff you always mean to get rid of, but never get around to tossing. And it’s from the broke, bygone era of mostly t-shirts and jeans. Except the jeans are long gone from over-use. So, yeah, I have no jeans. Partially because I REFUSE to wear stretch denim because it feels gross and partially because the only place I’ve ever found regular denim jeans no longer sells them.
So, yeah, if you see me wearing slacks and t-shirts on the weekends (a lot), that’s why. I have no coordinating clothing anymore. I have slacks that fit, but few nice shirts that do. And I have tees that fit, but no jeans that do.
Today we’re going to talk about a touchy subject with a level of candidness that some may find uncomfortable. For those of you that have trouble with my honest assessment of the treatment/judgment of “plus-sized” people, strong language and other personal things, here’s a picture of a fish:
Okay, now that we’re alone…
There is a subject that is near and dear to my heart. It’s something that has affected most of my life. It is something that I feel strongly about. A subject that is often shied away from in polite circles. At least when there are any fat people around.
::gasp:: There. I said it.
So, let’s get real. According to the BMI scale, I am obese. This is something that I never talk about with anyone other than my husband. It’s too painful and entirely too personal. It’s an Issue (intentional capitalization for emphasis) I deal with every day. Every day that I have to look in a mirror and hate what I see. Every time that I see little to no results to weeks of steady effort. Every time that I see the judgment in people’s eyes. Every time I hear a perfectly beautiful and healthy woman bemoan her weight. It’s not okay.
All of my life I’ve been fed bullshit or been looked down on. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been fed the line “But you’re not fat… (whiny voice)” by someone I’ve called on being judgmental about the weight of someone not present. I guess I’m somehow magically exempted from your disdain for fat people. Really? Don’t buy it. But you have just made me wonder what you say about me when I’m not around.
But really, I digress. There is a point to this rambling and self-indulgent post. Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I’ve been chubby since I was eight or nine and that can’t possibly be my fault. And on top of that, I was recently diagnosed with a disorder (not life threatening, just inconvenient) that *TADA* has a symptom of obesity. In fact, according to the Mayo Clinic, women with said disorder are twice as likely to be obese when compared with women that don’t have it. Joy. In addition to this lovely and depressing bit of information, one of the side effects the medication that I’m taking to regulate said disorder is *TADA* weight gain. FML.
And I just love the nagging by my new doctor when I’ve gained a few pounds since I started on the medication. It’s a lot to take, lady! I barely know you and this is how we’re gonna play it? Just walk and watch what I eat? Oh, really? Is it really that simple? Do those two things and the weight will just melt off, eh? Thank you! No, really! Thank you! I’m a big, fat idiot and I HAVEN’T FUCKING TRIED THAT ALREADY! Also, until you’ve exercised with the weight of a small person added to your own, don’t talk to me about easy.
Don’t pander to me. I’m intelligent and educated and this is the one (well, not the only) damn thing in my life that I can’t seem to conquer. And that, my freinds, is killing me. Ever damn day that I wake up and I look in that mirror and see the person that is not really me staring back out of a doughy face, I’ve already lost for that day. It’s over. The battle is lost and I can’t even try. If I can’t get over this one, apparently so insignificant thing, how in the world can I possibly do all of the big things that I want to do with my life? If it’s so fucking simple, so fucking easy, why is the weight-loss industry so huge? If it’s just that easy, what the fuck kind of moron am I? What kind of useless waste of breath am I, if I can achieve something so “simple’?
I know I must sound bitter and whiny to some of you, but this is the Issue that has plagued me for as long as I can remember. And you know what? I’m sick of it. I’m sick of doubting my worth over something so trivial. I’m sick of the treatment and blame that is heaped on people over something so monumentally personal. For some, the weight is a defense mechanism or eating is a coping mechanism. For others, it really is out of their control due to something wrong with their physiology. For still others, they struggle with an addiction to food. And yes, my fair readers, over-eating is an addiction just like any other. Just like drugs or alcohol or tobacco. I would beg the world at large to treat it as such and to show some compassion to people that judge themselves far worse than they ever could, but, I’ve seen the rotten treatment of drug or alcohol addicts too many times to assume that people would show any understanding of something outside of their experience.
Please, don’t be a dick. Thank your lucky stars that you didn’t lose the genetic lottery but don’t look down on people who did. Don’t look at me like I’m an abomination when I’m ordering the same damn thing you are but it’s wrong from me to eat it since I’m a fat cow and you “don’t usually eat things like this”. Eating out ::snicker:: is something we all indulge in. Don’t be all high and mighty. You do it too. It’s our national pastime. How many times have you had quality time turn into “Let’s go eat fatty food!” time? Thought so.
I’m sorry to have gone on so long, but I really needed to vent some of this garbage that poisons my heart. The mistreatment of others in any capacity breaks my heart and the pain and suffering and even persecution of the overweight is no different. Thin does not always equal healthy. I’ve known many thin people with high cholesterol, high blood pressure and other disorders associated with being overweight, while, with the exception of my newly discovered disorder (which is thought to be caused by genetics), my obese ass is healthy as a horse, thank you very much! Please, don’t pretend that the dirty looks that are thrown my way are out of concern for my health. I don’t buy it.
Okay, okay. Really. I should stop. Just know that I don’t share this for sympathy for myself. I really don’t. But I do hope that in some small way sharing my story might help shift someone’s perspective about something they think they know.
This is my burden. What’s yours?
“…Little brown jug, how I love thee!” Ah! I have to confess, I’ve always loved Glenn Miller.
On the first celestial evening
From somewhere out of nowhere pebbles drop upon the world.
Sorry. That’s a song from Trigun, one of my favorite anime series. I must confess that Vash the Stampede is one of the few blonds I’ve ever had crushes on… And YES, I have had many crushes on animated characters! Is that really any different than celebrity crushes?! They’re make-believe too!
Seriously… Sorry. I’m really, really tired and I’m sure that this post will prove that beyond a shadow of a doubt. Be prepared for a scattered and possibly confusing/confounding ride!
I do lots of thinking late at night as I lie in bed trying to sleep. It keeps me up some nights. Woah! What’s with the sudden solomn shift in tone?! Ack!! SO SLEEPY!! But it is true. My brain and even sometimes my body wakes up after 10 PM. It’s a sad state of affairs that even though my job requires me to be up before dawn, my night compatible self still strives to function in the time that it works best. This isn’t exactly ideal for me, since I do have to be up by 6 at the latest and I need more than 7 hours of sleep to be fully functional. If anything, it’s depressing.
Last night, as I lay wide away next to my snoring husband, my brain was firing and my body was eager for activity… You’ve got to be joking! Now? I thought. Now, you want to do something? (-_-) In all seriousness, if it hadn’t been 11:45-ish and I didn’t know the dangers of even seasoned swimmers swimming alone, I would have slipped down to the apartment pool to run some laps.
::sigh:: No life guard on duty (or friends to watch your back) and no pool lights when attempting to do laps in a tiny pool? Not a great idea.My overactive imagination took over even as the longing to swim tempted my muscles. I could just see myself out there in the dark, coming toward the wall, miscalculating the distance and BAM! They didn’t find the body until the next morning. Poor Aaron!
Speaking of muscles… I really wish that I could be a runner. There is a huge appeal to the freedom of speed under your own volition. Sadly, my doctor has advised me to avoid running since I had some trouble with my knee last year and she doesn’t want me to injure it further.
Woe is me. A night owl with a morning heavy job, no pool to speak of and a serious case of sleep deprived itchy eyes!
So many scattered thoughts, but it’s late and I should be in bed, but sleep eludes me. And I’m sure we all know that the harder you try to force sleep, the more slippery it becomes.
I know I can’t be the only one to feel this way. Every day I am more aware that this isn’t what I want from my life but every day I’m stymied by how inadequate and powerless I feel. I know that the future stretches before me like a new, sunny day. Bright. Full of promise and opportunity. But I feel like I’m stumbling around in the dark, groping for the light switch or waiting for someone with a flashlight.
I know [now] that I don’t want to teach… The longer I’m in the teaching game, the more I feel it isn’t for me. There is an immense pressure in education to give your life to teaching that I’m just not feeling. For all the good that it does, it’s just a job to me. I don’t feel “called” to it and I can’t see devoting my life to it. It is the season that I’m in right now and that is all.
I know that this would definitely be a problem for my employers if they were to know and because of it I feel like a fraud. And I know I’m not the only one that is teaching because it pays the bills but I only know me and my heart and my exhaustion at playing the part. How much longer will it be before the zombie that I feel like becomes the zombie that I am?
I know that I’m a good teacher or that I would be if I was given the chance to prove it. I know that I shouldn’t let it get to me, but I’ve never been okay with giving less than my best and I know I am and I know there is nothing I can do about it. But I also know that even though I can do it, doesn’t mean that I want to or even that I should. I know this, but it changes nothing.
I know that I should be happy. I know that I shouldn’t complain. I have a roof over my head, food in my stomach and people that love me. I know this, but it changes nothing.
I know that my supporting us is only for now and while I feel no bitterness about it, I do get overwhelmed by it sometimes. I don’t tell anyone. I know I should, but I don’t. I know this, but it changes nothing.
Sorry, folks. No white conch shell here. But at least no Piggys will die, eh? ;)
This is getting ridiculous! As I mentioned a while ago, our campus (not just my classroom) has been inundated with fleas. ::shudder:: Just thinking about it makes me itchy. :(
At first, I have to admit, I thought maybe a student had brought some from home with them but as time went on and the kill count the truth became apparent. I talked with other teachers and sure enough, they were having the same thing happening. Of course, we alerted our administration that fleas had taken up residence and they promptly called maintenance to come and spray… Outside… (O_O)
That’s right! They sprayed the grass OUTSIDE and did nothing for the little buggers that were in our classrooms leaving red marks all over our ankles! To make matters worse, the day that they sprayed it rained. And it rained the next day. AND the next day. (Seriously! SO ITCHY just thinking about it! ACK!) I don’t know much about pesticide, but I doubt it works very well when it gets washed away by torrential South Texas rain. But I could be wrong. (Even though I doubt it.)
Given the situation, we are all pretty paranoid about it. Our eyes scan any bare skin regularly, seeking out the little paracites. I find myself jumping at flecks of pepper, pen marks (cause I’m messy like that) and even freckles that I know are there! Little tickles and itches that would normally be dismissed and ignored are suddenly VERY IMPORTANT. As I type my earring brushed my neck and made me slap myself… Cause I’m smart like that.
Today alone, I’ve killed four fleas that I caught in the act. Filthy little beasts. Can anyone tell me what ecological purpose fleas serve? I mean, I know that while mosquitos are just as annoying and ITCHY they are a souce of food for birds (as adults) and fish (as larva). What about fleas? Are there any “benefits” to fleas. I mean, sure, they carry the Plague and typhus and who doesn’t love that, but what other benefits are there? O_o
I actually managed to get a semi-decent picture of one of my attackers. I killed him carefully (not carfully) to preserve the look of horror on his evil little face!
::shudder:: I think I need to go take a four hour bath in boiling water with lye soap and bleach!
Note to anyone that doesn’t want to hear about my sob story self-esteem issues: Somewhere along the way, this turned into a rant. It all goes downhill fast after the first paragraph. Instead, here’s the picture of a yummy latte that I was going to use for my own blog awards (sorry for the inconvenience). For the rest of you, read on at your own risk and don’t say that I didn’t warn you.
If you’ve ever lived in an apartment (or still do), you know the marvelous wonders of apartment neighbors. You don’t know them (or maybe you’re friendlier than us and you do) but you know strange details about their lives that you really feel you shouldn’t.
Now, I know we’re not the best neighbors. We have cats which sometimes results in raucous romps through their room in the middle of the night and the odd meowings and scratchings whenever they feel like torturing us it. But overall I think we’re pretty awesome. We try to keep the noise level down after ten (aren’t we considerate). We don’t have wild sex at odd hours of the night with weird music blaring (unlike some neighbors I’ve heard tell of). And for the most part, we don’t have any complaints about either of our neighbors. (We live in adjacent townhouses that have two stories each.) For the most part.
We have literally never heard a peep from our neighbors to one side. So much so that I would wonder if anyone lived there were it not for the cars parked in their car port and occasional sightings. However, with our neighbor on the other side… We’ve had more interactions. He’s signed for packages for us and we’ve done the same. He gets up at the same time I do, so I can hear him showering while I’m getting ready for work. And from what I can tell, he lives alone, is mostly quiet except for over-loud movie watching, yelling at sports (We assume. He could be doing weird, devious things, but we give him the benefit of the doubt.) and occasional Smashing Pumpkins. We heard a loud female ::clears throat:: “having fun” shall we say, once, but I’m not altogether convinced of the validity of her “affirmations”… It sounded a little staged to me.
Our biggest complaint with this neighbor (whom we’ve never really met. I’m not going talk to a single guy and Aaron doesn’t really talk to anyone) is the kids… Now, I don’t know if he’s a divorced dad, a considerate uncle or what, but every now and then (and bugger me if I can figure out what kind of schedule they’re on) he has two young boys staying with him and with the arrival of the children comes much aggravation.
I’d estimate the ages of these two boys to be around ten and eight. They have a dog that started to come with them around the end of last year that stays in the tiny little “yard” that we all have behind our apartments. He isn’t happy back there and whines and gets bored and has broken into our little patio area a few times, much to the upset of our cats. (They like to taunt him through the window.) And much like young boys (we’re assuming brothers) will do, these two little tykes like to run up and down the stairs, chasing each other screaming and laughing and crying when one of them gets too rough. This, in and of itself, is not [too much of] a problem. It’s annoying and we complain about it and roll our eyes when we hear the whining that unfailingly comes at the end of a laughing tussle, but doable. When it becomes a problem is when it is occuring at all hours of the night… Which has happened on multiple occasions. Let me tell you, I can pound on some walls! ;)
Lately, the biggest problem is with the cats. Our apartment has two bedrooms. Ours shares a wall with our neighbor’s room and the other (our spare) shares a wall with his spare room (which is where the kids sleep when they’re over). Since I don’t like to sleep with the door closed and we don’t want the cats to have free reign of our room (or the house) at night, the spare room has become the “cat room”. There’s a twin bed and a loveseat in there, but it also contains the litterboxes and their food and water. And at night, when we go to bed (or when we leave the house for any length of time) we put the cats in their room.
This has been the routine since we got them last May and they seem to be fine with it, EXCEPT, when they hear signs of life (talking), they feel it is their right to be included and one (Elliot, the orange tabby featured on my header) will meow (occasionally) and the other (Molly, the calico) will scratch on the door (all the freaking time!). They are used to me getting up early and showering and everything (6 is the latest I get up) without being let out, but if they hear anything more than my quiet shuffling and thumps, they want out, by George! The scratching has been a problem for some time that we are still trying to sort out, but lately it’s been fairly under control. Until this weekend.
So, assuming he’s a visitation dad, our neighbor had the kids this weekend. They weren’t home much, so really the only thing was the dog trying to claw through the the fence (I think he’s gradually making it tilt… I wonder if it will fall over some day.) until Saturday morning. I don’t understand these kids. They stay up pretty late (for kids). We usually hear them until 11-midnight which, I would think, would entail sleeping in. But apparently not. Sunday morning, the cats started making noise around 6. Aaron went to “take care of it” and for a while it stopped, but it was clear by 7 that we might as well give up and get up. It struck me as odd because, as I said, Molly scratches pretty frequently, but not lately and Elliot doesn’t meow all that often. But I forgot about it.
Then yesterday morning, AT 5AM, Molly starts scratching at the door and though I tried to ignore her and go back to sleep, she continued. Pissed beyond reason, I tromped over there, opened the door and hissed at her to shut up, sprayed some anti-scratch herb stuff that we’ve been using to curb the scratching and started to head back to bed. That’s when I heard THEM. The little buggers next door were talking and laughing! Quietly, I’ll grant you, but enough to wake up the cats and make them think that they should be up and let out. With EXTREME irritation, I went back to bed muttering foul things and lay there begging for one of them to get loud enough for me to hear from our bedroom. Molly quieted down after one more scratch (until I left, apparently. Aaron said she started up again. I assume the kids were talking again.) and I slept fitfully until 6 when I dragged myself out of bed. I’m just glad I went to bed early on Sunday night!
*Woah! Long post! And I don’t know why I’m being all ” bugger”y…
What are your thoughts on bees? Me? I hate the little flies with stingers. And, yes, I know that they’re a necessary evil and yes, they are evil. But I’ve had… Problems… with bees in the past. There was a period of about two years when I couldn’t go to a gas station in any kind of moderate weather without at least one bee coming over to check me out (’cause our gas stations in the area always have bees swarming around the trash cans). I dealt with it like any rational, thinking person would do: backing away frantically with a terrified (and I’m sure hilarious) expression on my face going “Uuuuuaaaaaeeeeeeeiiiiiii!!!”
I mean, how can you not look at those horrible little faces (Use your imagination. Or Google it. I’m trying not to steal pictures that aren’t mine and I tried to draw a bee face, but it was full a fail and you KNOW I’m not about to go take a picture of a bee! Just go Google bee face and then come back! Geez!) and the plot for the destruction of mankind? Think that’s crazy? Look at it from the bee perspective: What do bees need to survive? Flowers. Where do flowers grow? Wherever there’s green stuff. What’s happening to all the green stuff? Us. I rest my case. In the eyes of the bee agenda, WE are public enemy number one. That’s right. The BEE AGENDA.
So, it seems, the bees have discovered the nature of my feeling for them (abject terror) and have decided to use it to their advantage. Me being a high-ranking and influential person and all, they know that if they can take me out of the picture, their rise to power is pretty well assured. Their power play? They’re hanging out in the computer lab.
Not Even Joking.
In our computer lab.
I had to leave. I’m not even kidding. This morning there was one in the lab and it landed on the floor maybe a yard or two away from me and looked at me. And as you already know, bee faces freak me out. THEY HAVE MANDIBLES!! ::shudder::
Anyway, bee on floor s-t-a-r-i-n-g at me. I froze, my eyes locked with the wretched bee. One of the students in the lab followed my gaze and got up to squish it (Yay!) but the other teacher in the lab wouldn’t let him (Not so yay.) and carried the blasted thing outside on a piece of paper. I warned her of the plot to overthrow mankind, but she wouldn’t listen. Well, maybe not, but I did scoff at her bee saving ways. But the bee was out of my general vicinity. Score one for me!
Then. After lunch, I’m in the lab, minding my own business and I see something buzzing around the room. It’s flying like a regular old housefly so I ignore it. UNTIL the other teacher in the lab (a different one than earlier) starts watching it make its way around the room. I look up and sure enough: A bee!! And this time he brought a friend to work the other side of the room!! TWO BEES! I watched them for a while, but lost sight of one of them… I had to leave. No matter where I turned, I could feel their little bee eyes looking at me.
And thus I was driven out of the computer lab… I only fear… What next?
*If anyone can draw me a decent and accurate bee face I will so post it here!*
I cannot describe how frustrating and heartrending it is to have a student that needs your help and says that they want it, but their actions tell you a completely different story. Working with young adults has its advantages but they also come with their share of problems and a whole slew of excuses. I’m sick of it. Most of my students are in similar financial and familial situations. They have families to support and most need to work. The students I’m talking about, however, are the ones that think that they are completely unique in this regard and should be given special treatment. What I fail to see is how this special treatment and all these excusses are going to be of any benefit to these students in passing the TAKS and getting the diplomma that they are here for.
This program is voluntary. If a student isn’t willing to put in the time and effort it takes to get the help that they need, I can’t see how we can help them. It’s not like we can take the test for them.