These, my friends, are the accoutrements of pain, unhappiness and torture. Though I have come to the conclusion that it is vitally important for umbrellas to be brightly colored. Rainy days are dreary enough without carrying more blackness over your head!
In honor of the rainy (and I do mean rainy… a total deluge when I left this morning!!) day, I actually *gasp* got dressed… and, believe it or not, in an ensemble that did not include either denim or a babydoll top. This is practically unheard of. But to tell the truth, I think it was just because I wanted to wear these necklaces since I haven’t worn them in aeons, and they matched the skirt. :p So. Don’t mind the earring photo… if I’ve said it once I’ve said it a million times, but rain and my hair do not get along. At all. It went up shortly thereafter!
Here’s a little review of the second granola that I bought last week…
Ezekiel 4:9 Sprouted Whole Grain Flourless Golden Flax Cereal… or, as I prefer to call it, granola! I still love the sugar and protein counts on this, and the product itself isn’t inherently bad. It has a wonderful crunchy texture. It’s just that the lack of sugar also means it’s sort of… bland, I guess. It would definitely benefit from a liberal dusting of cinnamon; it would probably work well in yogurt / oatmeal, too. I don’t know whether I’d buy this again; it’s expensive, and I didn’t love love love it, but I’ll have to experiment with it some!
And a random food photo, just because.
Yesterday, the girl ahead of me in line at the salad bar I go to practically every day asked me if I am on a diet, I guess because I took my dressing on the side in lieu of having them drench the entire salad for me. I told her that I just don’t like how they tend to over-pour the dressing, but really — who asks that of someone they don’t even know?! Is it just me, or is that a rude question?!
Speaking of rudeness… there are many, many reasons why I dislike rain. One of these reasons is because, living in a densely populated area, I always find that pedestrians’ umbrellas are jockeying for airspace… and everyone thinks that naturally, their umbrella is the most important. Not pleasant. My umbrella bumped into someone else’s umbrella this morning. She hit me. Um. My umbrella touching yours? Accident. Your nasty little hand viciously attacking my arm? Most definitely not an accident. But okay, if that appeased her sense of justice and made everything seem right in her world, whatever.
Oooh… what’s a post by me without Verbal Vomit?! (I really do need to find a more appealing term for that.)
As usual, I am flying all over the place and not in any particular order, and I am sorry about that, but hey, exhaustion will do such things to you. So. I just wanted to say thank you for all of the sweet comments on my last post… they certainly provided me with some food for thought. It’s odd, considering that I am a writer, but reading things I’ve written literally makes me cringe with embarrassment. I don’t even have to actually read it — I just have to think of it, because I can remember writing it! But I have an entry in my journal from about, oh, maybe fourteen years ago? And the reason why I cringe when I think of it is because I was so arrogant. To make a long story short, there was some sort of fight happening with some people (don’t remember the particular details, nor do I care), and I actually assumed that “they” were in the wrong, because there were people out there who would want to be friends with me. Seriously. When I think of it now, all I can do is question what was wrong with me! Then I started thinking about what I was like in high school (pre-ED), and while I was never a very “vocal” person, I was certainly opinionated. I might not have ever been the type to place myself at the center of attention; I might never be that type. But once upon a time, I did think I had at least a little bit of a personality. As much as I try, though, I can’t define what that was… and if I can’t even do that, how am I supposed to get it back?
I spent about an hour on the phone with my nutritionist today — most of this time consisted of an extremely protracted “pep talk.” Oh, and she decided to raise my initial goal by two pounds, because I’ve been gaining and losing the same couple of pounds for what seems like forever (AKA, maintenance… apparently that does happen)… I really don’t see how raising the goal will fix that! All it made me want to do was throw my phone out the window, but since my office doesn’t have any of those, I didn’t have that option. I know it’s stupid, it’s “just” two pounds, and I’d have to gain them later anyway… but I also kind of feel like I was lied to, because all it’s been “just get to X,” and now that’s suddenly become “X plus two.” Who’s to say that next week it won’t become “X plus four,” and then “X plus six”?! Yeah. Clearly, I have major trust issues. Oh, and I am “self-absorbed,” which is entirely different than “selfish,” apparently. I should explain that to my mom, so that she can start calling me by the proper adjective…
She also all but insisted that I get bloodwork done when I happened to mention in passing that I’ve decided I’m anemic. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had any … it must have been about a year and a half, at least. I’m really most uninterested in spending hours sitting in my doctor’s waiting room to have some blood drawn! My mom says I ought to get a physical while I’m there, since I haven’t had one of those in a couple of years either. (Have I ever mentioned that I hate doctors? Well, this would be an opportune time for me to do that, if I haven’t. I hate doctors!) When I told her that I could think of plenty of things I’d rather do, she told me to ask my therapist what she thinks I should do. Um… I know what my therapist would say: that I’m an adult and should be capable of making these decisions on my own. So my mom asked me if I’d give her permission to speak to my therapist to ask her whether or not I should get a physical. This whole conversation was so preposterous that I actually had to giggle. And let me tell you, I am not a giggler. (The word “giggler” is quite funny, though.)
Snapple “Real Fact” #925: The White House was originally called the President’s Palace. It became the White House in 1901. Hmm… I wonder what color it was before then? (Of course, geek that I am, I had to Google this… apparently it was the color of the sandstone from which it was constructed, but there are references as far back as 1812 to “the White House,” so something doesn’t make sense here. I always suspected that these Snapple Facts weren’t all factual!)
Keri is having a giveaway for her one-month blogiversary; check it out!
Here’s to a fabulous (drier!!!) Wednesday!