it’s official, i’ve given up on myself.
last year when we went on our very first beach vacation, i proudly sported a string bikini. i looked damn good in said string bikini. my favorite was the bright pink one that accented my lovely tanned body that was in the best shape of it’s life.
not so much anymore. i won’t be tanning with the same fervor i did last year… after all, risking skin cancer one summer was enough for me. (no, i’m not stupid enough to go to a tanning booth- i laid out on my back porch. it was good for my soul, but bad for my skin. too bad, since it was so damn nice.)
i just ordered the first one piece bathing suit that i’ve had in, oh, 15 years? god, i’m getting old.
my parents just celebrated their 30th wedding anniversary! isn’t that wild? 30 years of togetherness. there are a lot of things i can complain about with my childhood, (who can’t?) but one thing i can say with absolutely surety is that my parents taught me how to stick it out in a relationship. yes, i remember them fighting- screaming and yelling and giving each other the silent treatment. i also remember catching them in more than one heated moment. (blergh. that’s a childhood issue for another date! sorry mom.) the point is, they argued with each other, they loved each other, they put every extra ounce they had into their togetherness, and they stuck it out through thick and thin. now, 30 years later they’re two sides of the same coin. inseparable, the same- but different.
unfortunately (or fortunately, i guess depending on how you look at it) that also marks 6 months until my 30th birthday. YIKES! for some reason i’m freaking out over the big 3-0. honestly, it’s not so much the number as it is my state of mind going into the number. i’m definitely not as bad off as i could be, but i know i could be so much better if i could just get off my ass and do things a little differently.
i haven’t exercised in over a year. i very rarely get out of my yoga pants or pajamas. my favorite yoga pants have never actually seen a yoga class. my stomach is a mess of churning, painful acid thanks to my insurance deciding to withdraw their payments for my medication… after having tried 5 different meds, i’ll be able to get back on the stuff that works again, but that’s 5 months worth of daily, painful stomach aches because i’m on the wrong medication. the worst part is that my food is awesome, so i can’t stop eating it.
yes, i’m a vegan.
but since i’ve become vegan, i’ve researched and experimented with different recipes/foods, and really broadened my culinary horizons.
my dinners are filled with rich coconut currys, hearty chili, spaghetti with black bean balls and lentil walnut loaves with a delectable tomato ginger glaze that almost perfectly mimicks the actual meat version i used to make. GAH. my food is better NOW than it was BEFORE! i can make a chocolate cake with a hazelnut fudge ganache that will make your head spin in ecstasy, and a pumpkin gingerbread loaf with spiced buttercream frosting that you won’t be able to stop eating until it’s gone. not to mention the hummus… oh, the hummus. i never knew it was so damn good. i have yet to make some that i’m satisfied with myself, but Sabra Pine Nut Hummus has graced everything on my plate from salad wraps to pita chips to burgers to sandwiches. and i always lick the spoon.
contrary to what i first thought, veganism is NOT an excuse to eat whatever the hell you want, even though i’ve given it my best shot. *sigh* oh well.
at some point i really need to learn to love myself. i need to be happy with all the little things that make me me, and not worry about what everybody else thinks. if i can learn to love myself, then maybe i won’t hit rock bottom quite as hard when i’m stuck with the children for days and days on end with no other adult contact. have you ever wondered what you would do if given the opportunity to meet yourself? the words “recoil in horror” are what first popped into my mind… i should probably work on that. i’m not as ugly as i think i am or as stupid as i think i am. i think. if i can learn to be happy looking good for myself, then it won’t suck quite as much when i realize that i haven’t had an excuse to look good in months. um… right? i’m not really sure where i’m going with all this randomness…
and now my coffee cup is empty. my children are fighting. my house is dirty, and the mop and brand new bottle of pine-sol are calling my name. time to get off my ass and do something productive…
