Another Lesson Learned

Yesterday was my birthday and like all red-blooded Americans who are deeply attached to their cars, I had to get my driver's license renewed. The DMV (department of motor vehicles) is usually #1 on my list of places to avoid but seeing as I hadn't updated my address (4 years post moving)...I had no choice. This also meant having a new picture taken for my license. I wasn't thrilled about it. Driver's license mug shots...err...pictures are notoriously bad. You're usually pretty lucky if it even resembles you. There's nothing like being asked to show your license while making a purchase, only to have the girl behind the counter giggle hysterically at the photo. My old one was pretty good and I really didn't want to give it up. But seeing that the girl in that photo was a fresh-faced 20-something I didn't think I could get away with it much longer. So, I spent a little extra time on my hair and make-up that morning and picked out a cute sweater to wear. Besides, a girl never knows where she might meet Mr. Perfect...right?

I signed in at the DMV and waited, along with the other 100 or so people there, to be shuffled through the system. Did I mention I waited? And waited? I went to the bathroom to waste some time, did one last check of the hair & make-up and made sure I didn't have anything stuck in my teeth. Nothing like smiling pretty for the camera only to have some remainder of your last meal make an ugly appearance.

Finally, it was my turn. Big smile for the camera. Done. I waited a while longer and then finally received my license. Hey...not bad. Eyes open...no goofy smile. Actually, it was a really good picture. Wait...what's that white stuff on my sweater....around the area of my boobs? It looks like....MY BRA. Yep. Turns out the DMV has improved the cameras they use. In fact, they've improved them so much that the flash snaked it's way through the fabric of my light green sweater and illuminated my white bra beneath. Now, every time I show my license, the person viewing it will also get a nice view of my bra. Victoria's Secret should pay me an advertising fee.

Wait. What's that sound? Ahhh, yes. The gods of the drivers license photos mocking me for being so vain. Another lesson learned.

Bad Mood Rising

I'm in a bad, bad mood today. Actually it started yesterday afternoon. I can't really point to one cause...which is irritating me even more. I don't relish being in a bad mood... I prefer to be happy, carefree... Not sitting here like a troll figuring out who to spit venom at next. So in an effort to turn around my mood, I'm borrowing a note from Patti-Cakes and issuing a PSA... or a few.

To Little Miss Can't Be Wrong at work....Don't call me 5 minutes before the end of my day to tell me that a process that I created is wrong. Don't proceed to tell me that you've paraded said process around the corporate office before coming to me with your concerns. If you absolutely feel the need to do the above, be prepared to have a better answer than "because" when I ask you why it's wrong. **Update: when proven wrong, please make sure to take your happy little butt back through the corporate office and set the record straight.

To the A-wipe at the Grocery.... berating your wife in the aisle of the grocery store does not make you more of a man, especially while doing it in front of your children. You looked like a complete idiot flailing around, referring to her as a whiny baby and proceeding to make crying noises. She looked haggered and broken. I wasn't hanging out in the frozen foods section for my health. I wanted to tell her that there was a way out. And if I ever see her again, I will work up the courage to interfere.

To My Best Friend...whom I adore...please refrain from calling me during the work day to inform me that we are under a tornado warning...especially when it's really a watch. Warning = sighting, watch = possibility. I really appreciate your concern but you nearly gave me a heart attack.

To the Guy at Blockbuster....you were parked in the FIRE LANE of a busy shopping center, 10 feet from an intersection and impeding traffic. Yes, I was laughing at the fact that the guy in front of me nearly plowed you over as you got out of your car. If you don't like it....those white stripes on the pavement are parking spaces...USE THEM!!

aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh. I feel better already.

The Body Betrayal

I turned 35 last year, as most of you know. I remember waking up that morning and thinking that I didn't feel much different than I had before I had fallen asleep that night. As the year wore on, I started to notice the subtle and not-so-subtle differences. I could deal with the few stray gray hairs and the fine lines around my eyes and mouth but suddenly clothes that I had just purchased ceased to fit. No matter how much I worked out, no matter how little I ate...the pounds appeared out of thin air. I joined the gym thinking that my hour long kickboxing sessions were no longer going to cut it. I lost a pound or 2 and then nothing....for six months. WTF? Apparently, I woke up on the morning of my birthday but my metabolism stayed in bed...permanently. I had always heard that it was harder to lose weight the older you became but no one ever warned me that it happened overnight.

I stopped going to the gym at some point last month. Oh, I'd stop by about once a week and act like I was working out but my heart wasn't in it. I'd find one excuse and then another to avoid the place for the remainder of the week. Busy holiday schedule, you know. I was disillusioned. I mean why sweat for an hour if it's not making a difference?

Finally, I threw my hands in the air and gave up. Obviously, I had a choice to make...get fat or beg for help. So I begged. Well, actually I handed over a wad of my hard earned money and hired a dietician. Turns out that my years of dieting had taught me pretty much nothing. I was doing everything wrong. Working out too hard, not eating the right portions or the right foods. I mean baked potato chips are great but it's hardly diet food if you sit down with the entire bag. Yeah, I ate salad but when you put 2 tablespoons of salad dressing on it at 15 grams of fat each...well, I could have had a Big Mac. How did I go all these years without knowing (or at the very least realizing) this stuff? And why is there not a mandatory class when you turn 35 to warn you about the betrayal your body is about to hand you????????????

Sleep Deprived from TMI

I couldn't sleep last night. I've been fighting a bad case of bronchitis and sleeping a lot during the day. But that wasn't the reason. The steriods I've been taking to help me get over it tend to make me hyper...but that wasn't the culprit either.

I phoned my mom last night to wish her a happy New Year and find out the family gossip for this week. She glossed over the family happenings quite quickly and started explaining with great detail the activities of her weekend. This was quite odd as normally the detail would be placed on the family gossip. We talked about the movies her and her boyfriend saw and the restaurants they ate at. Then...the big New Year's Eve plans...
"we were supposed to go over to so-and-so's house (another couple they play cards with regularly) but they wanted us to spend the night and.... I'M NOT SHARING!"

Schreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech. *poof* (sound of circuits overloading in my brain) I shook my head several times in disbelief as her last words resonated in my ears. She didn't just say THAT...did she? No. Can't be. Think, THINK....change the topic. CHANGE THE TOPIC!!! Wait. Why would my mother jump to the conclusion that this couple wanted to swing? It was New Year's Eve. Couldn't it have been that they were just worried about drunk drivers?

"Mom, are you sure that's why they asked you to spend the night?"
"**giggles** Well, they've been a little friendly lately."

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! tmi....TMI. Brain overloading. Now, I've been known to let my own freak flag fly high and proud at times. And I'm very open-minded about how others choose to live their lives. BUT...this is MY MOTHER. She's a virgin! She DOES NOT have sex! She DOES NOT know about things like swinging! I don't exactly recall how but I managed to finish the conversation with her. I tried relentlessly to put it out of my head...but to no avail. I laid in bed, shuddering, trying to think of puppies, wildflowers, warm ocean breezes...anything to get this out of my head. Finally, I had to face the truth. My mother knows about sex. I'm off to take an extremely hot shower and wash my mouth out with soap. Can one of you please develop a TMI warning light for my phone? Please???

Happy New Year to all my bloggy buddies! I hope the New Year is filled with PLEASANT surprises for you. And may you never find out that your parents have sex. lol.