Eatng...
Two scoops of smashed 'taters. Yummy! Losng...
70 pounds. Never fear, I'm still fat, but I'm back to my fightng weight! Irritatng...
The doctor lecturng me about my weight and presumng I wanted to lose weight. Meanwhile, he ignored my genune health concerns. Wearng...
A burgundy, velvet skirt with high slits on both sides and a sheer, black blouse. The Greek thoroughly approved. Watchng...
Faraway, So Close! and realizng the forger is Slugworth from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. By concidence, I had both DVDs at once and verified it. Weird. Dude, Where's My Car?, and there is a scene with ostriches attackng and chasng them. No bird should be that tall, it just an't right. Not to mention how psycho they look when they run! Gilda Radner, It's Always Somethng. Cookng...
Sauteed chicken, shrimp, mushrooms, asparagus, tomatoes, artichokes, and onions with tons of garlic. I was distracted repeatedly while cookng and so skipped the fettucne and alfredo sauce it was to go with. He fed bread to me n the kitchen. It was the sweetest thng. Standng...
On my tiptoes to kiss him. It was surreal and made me feel like some tny, wee woman of about 5'1" -- but I am ndeed 5'8" and fully appreciated the way his 6'3" frame surrounded me.
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 a "cream puff," the Greek said after we'd cuddled and kissed for over an hour on Saturday night. I swear, Blanepear has brought me some seriously good sex karma and, for that, I thank him. We were gong to have dnner at Jules, where I celebrated beng hired at Non-Profit. It seemed only fittng to celebrate beng fired there! I was gong to surprise him by strollng up to Underbar after dnner. We were both lookng forward to some prolonged smoochng, so booths with curtans that close seemed like just the thng. Thank you providence, because my gay husband Rob went out of town for the weekend and let me housesit. It's just another sign that the universe wants me to get some! I guess I am a cream puff, because it was wonderful to be touched and appreciated. He likes my face, my (real) hair, my skn and the way I smell. I don't know if it's a weakness or some vestigial Mars/Venus bullshit, but it was nice to be complimented, adored. One of the reasons I've been isolatng myself so much is that my nteractions with others were so often negative, that I didn't want to be bothered. Whether it was Blanepear makng some off remark, or my boss sayng I was "too emotional," it just seemed like others only had criticism for me. I tend to be thn-sknned, to be sure, but part of why that bothers me is that if I was with people who truly understood and loved me, even my quirks would be endearng. Ever snce September, the thought n my head has been what I said n my dad's eulogy, life is short, too short to waste on negativity. . . . Ironically, I had a pelvic exam last Wednesday n which I said I was not sexually active. When I thnk of my sex life, "active" is just not the word that sprngs to mnd. I love all those questions. I actually recorded the date of my last period n my Palm n anticipation of this appontment, because I never, ever remember. I mean, unless it's a holiday, I've had so many at this pont that it's not somethng I take note to remember. I've never been n a long term relationship, so I don't need to mark my calendar because I'm worried about beng knocked up. I didn't talk about the weight loss n the journal because I am ever the fat advocate. That year n the suburbs, sittng on my ass and eatng food mostly out of boxes and fast food contaners made me sluggish, lazy and I ganed a lot of weight. I didn't hate myself for a moment, dear readers. I was larger than I was comfortable with and had lost muscle tone and the baselne of fitness to get myself around town. Nevertheless, I didn't appreciate that the doctor focussed on that and presumed I wanted to lose weight (I hadn't mentioned the loss to him). I have some serious health concerns that don't have shit to do with my weight and he glossed over them. For example, he completely neglected to check the worrisome lump on my right shn. It could be cancer, but god forbid I should be fat! I wonder how many fat people die because their doctors are too preoccupied with their weights, rather than their actual health problems. I wasn't my usual, mouthy self, feelng a bit vulnerable n stirrups with my goods exposed to all of Amsterdam Avenue.
[Next entry: "Not Missn' You at All"]
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