Confession

I hope that my posts have never given the impression that I am more put together, wise or sensible than I really am. I am assuming that the admissions of vanity, immaturity and irrational behavior balance out any impressions of composure, but in light of some recent undue compliments, I still feel I should make a few things clear.

Although I have my brighter days, I certainly have dark ones too. I still throw tantrums. I am a grown woman with a career and a wonderful relationship and quite a bit to be thankful for, but sometimes I cry about nothing at all. I found someone who loves me in a way I didn’t think existed, but I sometimes I come home from a bad day at work and take things out on him – even though he has never taken much of anything out on me. I have days where I focus on the inadequacy or imperfection in completely inconsequential aspects of my life, until I remember how ridiculous I’m being – but sometimes that can take a few minutes. Or hours. Or if I’m being really difficult, a few days. I often forget how lucky I am. I have a tendency to move through my days at a pace which has both accelerated things and greased the downward spirals, so to speak. I’m human and I actually have moments where I wonder if there really is a little “crazy” in me. I fear that irrational part of me may grow bigger someday if I’m not terribly cautious.

It’s important to know that my most optimistic posts - the ones characterized by a positive outlook on life -usually come on the heels of a struggle or rough patch. More often than not, they are the calm after a storm, a concrete representation of another lesson learned the hard way. For example, “Fish-face Lip Marks and Tiny Fingerprints” was written after I finished crying for an hour about my sister and her family leaving, even though I’m going to see them two times in the next two months.

You see, many of my posts are born of a selfish need for re-evaluation, a need for some serious reflection. Writing is one of the only ways I know how to bring myself back down to earth when I feel particularly sad or frustrated. So when I write about the importance of finding and keeping perspective, or finding beauty and happiness in places we often fail to look, I’m really just reinforcing those concepts for myself. I’m not always able to find the silver lining on the clouds that come my way - that would just be suspect. I sure as hell don’t learn a valuable lesson from every single little mistake I make and I don’t always remember to apply the lessons I do learn when similar challenges present themselves. And I don’t actually keep a positive, happy-go-lucky perspective every minute of every day –that just isn’t possible. And for better or worse, that just isn’t who I am.

Moose Knuckle

Sometimes I put my pants on in the morning and notice that they feel a bit tighter than I would like them to.  My immediate reaction is always the same - something along the lines of, "F*ck."  I try to reign in any negative thoughts about my apparent weight gain, lack of self control, etc. before my mind gets away from me, but usually that feeling of disappointment and those too-tight pants are on my mind all day.

I walk to work thinking, "Are they tighter in the thigh too? Oh God. They are tighter in the thigh!" I sit down at my desk and think, "Now I know nothing spilled over in the love handle area last time I wore these pants. Sh*t. I've totally put on a few pounds. Damn baking!" Sometimes I'll try to rationalize my way away from self loathing, because that is never a fun way to start one's day. If I'm in an otherwise good mood, I'll consider that forces other than my own weak will may be to blame for my too-tight pants. I'll think "Hmmm, I did just dry clean these pants," or, "I guess it's about that time in my cycle when I tend to get a little bloated."

I get mad at myself, go through a little denial, get mad at myself again and then I usually come back to a more rational place where I shake my head at myself and feel a little ashamed that I've wasted so much time and energy being concerned with the fit of my pants and whether or not I've gained a few pounds. I mean who cares? (Only I do.) Does it really matter in the grand scheme of things? (No, obviously not.) Do I not trust that I wont turn back into an overweight, squishy, chubby little kid? (This isn't a good indication that I have any faith in myself.) Are there not more consequential things I should concern myself with? (Absolutely.) Am I really this vain? (Yes.)

I always try to shake off all the negativity, maybe with a lap around the office or a few minutes of fresh air. But when I get up from my desk, I inevitably notice the pants are undoubtedly too tight. And if I'm really lucky, they give me a moose knuckle. Now that is no way to start the day.