The Stretch Factor

I am back with many new and exciting things to report. Well, they're new and exciting to me anyway.
* I did indeed hear from a major publication who is interested in my query. Of course, when I was single, I was interested in having an affair with Liam Neeson and it didn't happen. Let's pray my writing has a better outcome.
* I finished painting the bathroom today. One might describe it as the color of M& M chocolate. Or crap. Depends on their mood.
* I have hit my goal of doing one nice thing/week for myself. Granted, this week was the first week I started, but let's go with it, shall we? Today's pleasure: eyebrow wax. And I can't really call it pleasure. My lid hair was akin to going at an overgrown shurb with a pick saw. Ow. And let's just say the elation was overshadowed by Ming Lee asking me "Ooooh, you want mustache plucked, too?" I did not know I had lip hair going on. With all my introspective writing, one would think I'd be aware of fuzz between my mouth and my nostrils, but maybe it's like a child who hits, curses and screams but you're so in love with him you don't notice and insist he be given the part of the lead angel in the Xmas play, even if he insists on shoving a candy cane up the plaster lamb's ass. At least I can stop obsessing over my belly weight and move onto something new. (Thank you very much, K, for the worst 4th of July pictures in the history of time. I look like a beached firecracker.)

Side note: If I am talking about my weight a bit more in these posts, let me clarify that I by no means have any desire to be an L.A. lollypop - huge head, all stick. It's more that, like my lip hair, I've been living in a bit of denial about where the last ten pounds have settled. But thanks to my sister-in-law's camera skills, it's clear that, despite my penchant for thrifting, I don't like the extra junk in my trunk. I don't care if when I stand I look fabulous. I want to be able to sprawl out in a drunken housewife vegetation and still look lean and chic. So, good bye carbs after 2PM. Hello 50 situps/day and walking. But I'm keeping the animal cookies on Saturday. Until next month anyway when K takes photos of me sprawled in my hammock at some random family bbq and I have to track her down and kill her, throwing her remains in a Mother's Animal Cookie bag. And believe me, this girl is small. They would fit.

* I made an appointment to get my hair done. I'm thinking stripes of some sort. I'm aiming for sexy and fun. With my luck, it'll turn out Valley Girl zebra.

* I am writing one hour/day.

* I am Ebaying 3 items / day.

* Rex was gone last week and he's leaving again next week, but we're managing to have some fun.

* I am exhausted beyond belief and a bit down the past few days. But, being the neurotic woman I am, I took an online depression screening and, as it turns out, I am not clinically down. Instead, I am merely a hyper over-achiever.

Um.... Duh.

So now... I'm off to check my lip hair in my new shit colored bathroom, followed by 50 sit-ups and dreams of being alone all week without my husband.

Aren't you glad I'm back?

PS: In my neurotic state, I freaked out over maybe getting a major writing gig and then having writers' block. Clearly I don't need to worry. In fact, I think a little blockage might do everyone some good, but alas, the pipes are open with the floodgate of my freakishness.

PSS: Picture of my last ten pounds at pool, courtesy of K, and me running at park, courtesy of Rex. I show them not to be a complete narcissist, but to show how one might be fooled with how good one thinks they look. The stretch factor is to blame. And I'm mad at the evil, evil deception. Die, stretch factor. DIE!!!