cleverly disguised as a responsible adult

My self image is crap. I pretend to be confident and think I look good, but I look in the mirror and see someone with rolls of flab, bad skin, and asymmetrical features.

A lot of this came from Mom, who still isn't convinced that I have a significantly different body plan than her. She has a very narrow frame, bird bones, and fine features. In contrast, I actually have curvy chest, butt, and hips and I'm six inches taller.

Why does any of this matter? For a while now, I've been trying to lose some of the pudge around my middle. Nothing seemed to be happening and looking in the mirror kept getting harder.

But at long last I'm finally seeing some improvement. There was one particular chubby area on my chest that made me feel really ugly in dance class. That chub is now pretty much gone. I'm also wearing my belt one notch tighter in the never-ending struggle between my pants, modesty, and gravity. I still don't feel the least bit attractive, but at least I'm seeing something different.

My favorite pair of pants have been officially retired. The grey khakis have served me well for many years, but are now Unfit To Wear In Public.

A small memorial service will be held Saturday morning in my closet. A luncheon will be provided before an expedition launches to attempt to replace the hole in my wardrobe that, in truth, is not unlike that which mars the derriere of the grey pants.

Rest in peace, my favorite pants. My one regret is never telling you how much I have appreciated you. *sniff*

I am thankful for my friends and my family, without whom I would be much more boring and much less happy. I am thankful for my relationship with Downwood and am getting all teary trying to describe just what he means to me. I am thankful for a job where I'm challenged to learn more and be better at the things I already knew. I'm thankful that the turkey turned out better than I'd expected and for one of the most relaxing Thanksgiving preparations ever. I'm thankful for the little bits of snow that we've seen and the feel of winter in the air. There are a hundred million little things that I'm thankful for but can't seem to find words to express them.


Life is good.

When I get lots of stress dumped on me at once, there are two productive strategies that I use to cope with it.* I cook or I clean. Usually, much of the first leads straight into the second, naturally.

When I'm using the act of preparing food to relieve stress, it usually starts with something simple like cinnamon toast. My KitchenAid stand mixer and my Crockpot become my best friends, and when the flour finally settles, there'll probably be four or five types of cookies, some muffins, a pot or two of soup, and a loaf of bread cooling on the counter. I won't actually have eaten any of it, but woe be unto you if you decline extra helpings!**

Once I start cooking, I'll start doing dishes to try to stay ahead of my measuring cup needs. That then branches out into cleaning every surface in the kitchen not covered by what I'm preparing. Soon enough, I'll have started sweeping/mopping/vacuuming the floor.*** Once those tasks are - if not done, significantly underway - I'll have thrown in a load of laundry.

Usually, by the time the laundry gets started, some of the cookies are ready. This is not a coincidence: laundry is extremely calming and centering.

When I was 13 or 14, I started doing the laundry for my family. When I started wanting my clothes dried a certain way, Mom said that I'd best do it myself, as she had too many other things to worry about.**** So, after several misadventures, most of which ended with my stepfather's socks becoming odd pastel shades, it became mostly my job to make sure that everyone had clean clothes.

Once I got to college, I didn't do laundry nearly so often. I'd either do massive runs to the laundromat next to the boiler room in the dorm or save it up until I got a chance to hit up a family member for the use of their basement. Still, taking the time to sort my clothes, set the machine, switch everything around, fold the clean garments, and put it all away was very relaxing.*****

Tonight, for the first time ever, I'm doing laundry in my washing machine and dryer. downwood's wonderfully generous mother gave us a set for our birthdays and Christmases. They're not the fanciest machines on the market, but damn can they hold a lot of clothes. They'll last a good long time, though, so I think I can handle slightly higher water bills.

Yes, laundry is something that I like very much. I have a whole closet to fill up with clean stuff, piles of things that need washing, and as much time as I want in which to do it. I can sit back with my mug of tea and electronic advance reader copy of The Dance of Time and listen to the clacking of my jeans in the dryer.

Just you wait, if things at work go like I think they will, around the end of November, my brain will start running out my ears. Just in time for baking Christmas treats and mailing them out across the universe.

But I'll still be able to do laundry whenever I want. *happy me*


* - There are LOTS of unproductive strategies that I use. Most of the time I can recognize that it's bad and I try to do something else. See, they were right, therapy is good for something!

** - Seriously, this has happened. The worst time was right before I went in to the hospital. I think I made four types of muffin, three cookies, and two full meals, ate half a donut, and drank some water. I don't even notice that I do it, usually, which sort of freaks some (easily alarmable) people out.

*** - Who the hell puts carpet in a freaking kitchen?!?!

**** - I wanted my jeans to not be dried all the way so that they wouldn't shrink and be too short. I could never find jeans that fit. Now, since I actually have hips and ass, it's much easier to find clothes. And, as an added bonus, I no longer have my little sister "accidentally" shrinking those of my clothes that she just happened to really like. Scheming bitch.******

***** - Why did I choose stars over letters or numbers for footnotes? Oh, well. Yes, I even like putting clothes away, even though I tend to not do it until I want to use my laundry basket to transport dirty clothes somewhere. So sue me. *phbbt*

****** - And I mean that in the nicest possible way, of course.

After reading pretty much every other Discworld book, I finally began reading the City Watch books. I'm currently waiting for the library to deliver unto me the next two, but a short conversation at the end of Guards! Guards! caught my attention. I am transcribing it here so that I can find it again later.
( Cut for brief spoilers )

I've been bonding with my mixer today, and we plan to continue our emotional journey tomorrow afternoon. I love my mixer. No, this doesn't make me strange. It's a Kitchenaid stand mixer with a significant fraction of a horsepower. Softening butter is for sissies. Mmmm...cookies...

I got the coolest fortune cookie last night. It's been enshrined on my desk with the other two that have made it into the Hall of Fame. As with all fortunes, they're funnier with the addition of "in bed" to the end of the sentence.

• You are capable, competent, creative, candid. Prove it.
  
• You enjoy giving gifts of yourself to others, you will be rewarded!
  
• The fun side of a relationship begins to unfold.
  

*sigh* Anyone out there feel like telling my brain to behave itself and continue to operate under the parameters I've dictated? ah, hell...

Cooking is one of the things I do to relax. Unfortunately for my mental stability, I don't like cooking if I'm the only one who will be dining. If I cook for just me, I'd better really, really like whatever it is that I'm making. I tend to cook quite a bit of food for a meal, so I'll be eating it for lunch and dinner for the next couple of days.

My mom taught me how to bake when I was young. Baking is chemistry: measuring is important. My step-father taught me how to cook anything that I don't follow a recipe. When I just start dumping spices and veggies together or slapping pieces of dead animal on the grill, I owe my skill to Bob.

I love making spicy food. The spices make me happy. I'd expound upon this at length, but the charcoal calls to me. Its siren singing draws me to softly cleanse the ash away, pile fresh coals high, soak them in the distilled liquid of fire, and light it to flambe any passing mosquitoes. Yes, it calls me. I must grill.

I got off the bus several blocks early this afternoon. There's puffy white clouds in the sky, the sun is shining, birds are singing, etc. About halfway home, I came upon a mulberry tree that just happens to have ripe fruit on it. I stopped dead in my tracks, kinda looked around to see if the homeowners were going to come out brandishing a broom to keep me away from their tree, even though I wasn't even trespassing because I stayed standing on the sidewalk. *deep breath* I stood there for a couple of minutes picking and nibbling on berries. I ended up picking a handful to munch the rest of my way home. This just made my day go from "m'eh" to "ectatic happiness"!! *giggling happy bounciness* So my hands, lips, and tongue are stained purple...had I stayed by the tree any longer, my teeth would be colored, too!

I've been called a hedonist. I've never denied this. The thing you've got to remember is that it's not just luxurious or sexual pleasure that drives me. The joy of finding this tree is enough to make my day improve by at least three orders of magnitude.

I'm gonna go bounce off the walls for a while. Anyone wanna go out tonight? *grinning dancing exuberant euphoria*

I've finally figured it out! I know why I hate group therapy so much!

( psychobabble )
I still don't want to go. I still don't like it. But that's okay. If I suddenly started liking group, that'd be a key that I've been replaced by a pod person. Other ways...I stop requiring a caffeine IV, stop coveting chocolate, be quiet and demure, turn down a chance for pleasure, or start endorsing censorship.

What do you do in the case of a pod person, anyway? I know what to to fend off zombies, werewolves, vampires, incubi, minor gods, or even some major gods attack, but what about pod people? Especially if you want to get the original person back? Any ideas?