Every year I look forward to my birthday. Every year except this one.
When I was 19 years old, 28 seemed so ancient. Yet here I am now, just two days away from it. I can’t believe it’s knocking on my door already. I can’t believe I’m about to officially enter the late 20s demographic.
The degenerative process has already started for me. With my one grey hair, my brittle, peeling skin, and my pronounced laugh lines, which make me regret ever smiling, I definitely can’t pass for a 25-year old anymore. Even with the short cutsie haircut I got yesterday I still look prematurely old from up close.
To think that the aging wheel is only going to go downhill faster from here onwards … it’s really quite depressing. No wonder models, dancers, and actresses have trouble dealing with it. No wonder they turn to anti-wrinkles creams, laser treatment, and botox. They don’t want to lose their face, which is not just their product and their livehood, but their identity as well.
Sooner or later I may have to remove or cover up all the mirrors in my home. I don’t want to see the growing damage. I’m just too scared. I really don’t have anything to offer to the world except my face (or what’s left of it). Once that’s totally gone, you might as well toss me to the garbage with the old banana peels.
I give myself five years tops until my youth is fully obsolete and no man my age (with decent taste) will look at me without screaming “old!”
Once you’re old, the quest for beauty is futile. You can’t beat nature. You have no choice but to let the decay run its course. When I get to that point, I don’t know what I’ll do besides going bonkers. Being unable to do anything to attain physical perfection will surely kill me.
I guess if I had one birthday wish this year and every other year after this one, it would be to never see myself old.
Aging November 30, 2007
I Must Do Everything I Can To Blog Every Day November 29, 2007
If I’m lucky, maybe three people read this blog on a regular basis. Yet, I feel the need to update this blog every day. When I don’t, I feel ashamed. As if I were letting those three faithful people down for not ”delivering.” As if I were a rotten blogger for not doing my job as I should. (Um, isn’t my life just full of shoulds, don’ts, and musts?)
Chances are nobody actually gives a cahoot if I write once a day or once a month. It’s not like what I write is all that interesting, useful, or fun. It’s not like traffic here is bursting through the roof. It’s not like I get paid to do this. It’s not like I’m trying to impress a hot crush (let’s face it, he won’t be impressed by my neurotic tendencies).
But I care. I care a lot. Perhaps too much.
I feel like as long as the outside world has access to my blog I need to make sure that this space of mine, which is really a reflection of who I am, is well kept like a carefully tended garden. Nobody likes to walk into disorganized, sloppy chaos – at least, I don’t. What I say here may not be to many a person’s liking, but it doesn’t really matter as long as whoever stumbles upon my blog, whether it be that lost, troubled soul who’s looking for a kindred spirit or one of those three faithful readers, can see I’ve put meticulous thought and effort into this endeavour.
And thought and effort I sure do put into this! Blogging’s like having a part-time job I’m so extremely inefficient at that no one in their right mind would pay me hourly to do it. As an obsessive-compulsive perfectionist I can (and do!) spend HOURS on a single post. Because blogging is such a colossal task for me, it can get quite daunting to tackle it every day (not an excuse, I’m just stating the facts).
But I don’t have much of a life - since the quest for perfection pretty much fills up my days - so here I am!
Unlucky November 28, 2007
These past couple of days have been distressing. I seem to be running through a streak of bad luck.
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Misfortune #1:
On Saturday I was shopping at Ulta, a beauty supply store similar to Sephora. I carried with me a blue bag, containing my purse, random papers and some new shoes I had just purchased, a notebook where I had written a very thorough list of beauty products to look for, and a shopping basket. I had such difficulty carrying everything in my hands while conducting my search that I put down my bag and my basket next to me. I was in the store for at least an hour when two short Hispanic men started walking up and down the aisles around me. I didn’t pay too much attention to them; I thought they were looking for makeup for their wives.
Unsuspectingly, I stepped away from my bag, which was sitting in the corner of the aisle with my basket. By the time I turned around to grab my stuff, probably a minute later, my bag was gone. Only the basket remained.
Instantly I knew. I had no doubt in my mind that they had taken it. Those two men who looked so out of place in the makeup section of a beauty store, it had to be them. Frantically I looked around. My eyes quickly landed on the store window where I could see the two ladrones walking away with MY bag. As if it were theirs. Fucking assholes.
Immediately I stormed out of the store, huffing and puffing, red as a tomato, and determined to get my bag back. I ran after them; they must have been no more than a hundred meters away. Like a quiet predator, I made sure they didn’t hear me approaching from behind. Much to their astonishment, I forcefully ripped the bag away out of the thief’s clutch. And then I stared the man down in the eye and firmly said in a loud voice: “THIS is MY bag you took!”
The two men were so stunned that they just stood there in silence with wide open eyes. Without another word, I decisively swung the other way and walked back to the store muttering curses under my breath. It was a long while before I stopped shaking like a leaf as waves of overwhelming fear, indignation, and guilt were swirling through me.
Though I was upset at what those men did, I also blamed myself for what happened. If I had been more careful, none of this would have happened. But never again. Never again will I lose control of the situation as I did. From now on I am not going to trust anyone and I’m going to guard my belongings as if they were my very last possessions on Earth.
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Misfortune #2
On Monday I lost my driver’s license in a thrift store. My purse, which is really a wallet with a purse string attached to it, accidentally opened on its own and my license slipped out without my noticing it. I was filled with panic when I realized it wasn’t there anymore. I thought, oh no, this can’t be happening again.
I looked, looked, and looked; I retraced every single one of my steps, but my license was nowhere to be found. I was on the verge of tears when I heard a very faint voice on the speakerphone butchering my last name. Joy! Relief! For once I didn’t care how they pronounced my name. My license was safe! I ran to the office and one of the employers handed it to me. If I wasn’t trying so hard to contain my emotions in public, I would have thrown my arms at her in jubilant gratitude. Saved once again!
Never again am I putting important items in those wallet pockets. They now go in the zippered section. You can never be too safe.
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Misfortune #3:
Today (actually it happened yesterday, but I only found out about it today), my paycheck bounced (the horror!!!) and threw my bank account in severe overdraft (just kill me already!). Current balance: minus $450 after the bank made its kill off those exorbitant fees they wasted not a second to hit me with. And as icing on the cake, autopay payments are processing AS WE SPEAK. I’m crossing my fingers and biting my nails that I won’t charged any more return fees. (Lord have mercy on me.)
The rage, oh, the rage. Again, if I wasn’t so fiercely adamant on losing control of myself in public, I would have allowed myself to break into tears at work and lash out at the culprit of this mess on the telephone. There is nothing that drives me to the edge more than losing control of my finances. I’d rather lose my driver’s license a hundred times, I’d rather lose my temper and make a fool out of myself than lose control of my money.
None of this is my fault, so I shouldn’t blame myself (but I do because that’s what I do, get mad at myself every time something goes wrong). Yes, I should have had $500 sitting in my checking account for safety, but as a lowly secretary, I really don’t make that kind of money. If I were smarter, more competent, more confident, not to mention more sociable, I’d be working for a better company.
But no, I work for the WORST temp agency ever. They pay me late; they make mistakes; they lie to me; they screw me over; they make my life a living hell; but this, this has got to be the ultimate fuck up this one-person run company has ever done to me. Oh, I can’t wait for the end of my contract at the end of December. No more paycheck woes -though possibly no paychecks for a while either, ugh. Maybe one fine day, when the stars are aligned properly, I’ll get a job that pays me on time without any fuss. Is it too much to ask for?
Anyway, the temp lady made up excuses (man, she’s good at that) and then advised me to ask the bank to resubmit the check for payment. So I went to the bank and they told me I had to wait for the returned check in the mail before they could reprocess it. Only trouble is I may not receive it till next week. Dang!
Fortunately, a good samaritan so dear to my heart, was kind enough to lend me some money today. With the late paycheck that was supposed to arrive last Friday, but won’t arrive till tomorrow (another fine example of the temp agency’s incompetence), I should be able to cover the big gaping hole in my account and pay for the urgent bills that all seem to be due in the next few days. As long as I deposit everything together, that is. Bank can’t charge me an overdraft fee again if I’m already in the negative, but they can if I put in some money and it’s enough to put me back in the positive yet not enough to cover any incoming payments.
Though the situation will get resolved sooner or later, I doubt I’ll sleep in peace until it is. I never thought I’d live to see the day when my balance would be three digits in the hole. If only this were just a nightmare I’d wake up from tomorrow… sigh.
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Bedtime prayer of the day:
Dear God, please, God, I’m sorry I said you didn’t exist, but will you please forgive me for all the bad I’ve done and stop throwing misfortunes at me? I promise to be good (at least through the end of the year).
Here Comes The Dreaded “Holiday Season” November 25, 2007
My mom (who’s living with me for a few months) LOVES Christmas. She loves shopping, loves the idea of giving and receiving gifts, loves wearing red, loves listening to Christmas songs all day long, and loves Christmas decorations. The trouble is as a grouch, I HATE Christmas. I can’t stand the fake jolliness, the fake spirit of giving, the fake togetherness, the fake love, the fake everything.
My mother wanted a Christmas tree, but I told her there was no way in hell we were having such tacky frivolousness in MY apartment. Christmas trees, with their meaningless garish showiness, are a symbol of everything I hate about Christmas.
So this is what we compromised on:
A Christmas-ish screen!
Though my living room sort of looks like an orchard now, at least there are no lights, sparkly garlands, angels, Santa Clauses, or red-nosed reindeers in sight. I will not have to gag every time I go into my living room and my two fun-loving kitties will not be swinging on any branches (or garlands). Phew!
Food Diary #7 – Discipline Is Key November 22, 2007
I am feeling dreadfully guilty because I ate a little tube of M&Ms today while I was at the movie theater with my mother. My mom had this kid’s tray that came with soda, popcorn, and candy. Since she only wanted the soda and the popcorn, she gave me the candy and foolishly I accepted it. What a fool I was indeed.
Now that it’s somewhere in my belly, probably getting absorbed as fat, guilt is hanging over me like a millstone over my neck. Though I’ve already exercised this morning, I am half tempted to exercise again to burn the enemy down. Go away, you filth, get away from me!
How could I have been so stupid? Where was my discipline? Considering today is eat-your-heart-out day in this land of the fat I live in, I behaved surprisingly well at lunch. All I had was a moderate portion of turkey, green beans, grated carrots, and brown rice with just a square of dark chocolate for dessert.
So why, goddammit, did I have to eat these M&Ms? I wasn’t hungry. I didn’t need them. Every once in a while I don’t mind eating a couple of small scoops of slow churned ice cream. Eating candy, however, is big no-no for me, the worst offense, the ultimate sin. It just reminds me of the sugar addiction days of old when I had no self-control whatsoever, no discipline. I don’t want to go back to being that person anymore, that loser, that girl of no self-respect. I’ve worked too hard to get this far. I simply can’t let myself go again.
DISCIPLINE. That’s really all it takes to lose weight and keep it off. It’s not that difficult, but only a matter of setting down the law for yourself and following it NO MATTER WHAT. I mean, most of us have no trouble following the laws other people have set for us. Setting rules and laws for ourselves for our own self benefit should be a piece of cake next to that.
And let me tell you something. It is. When you put discipline first and foremost above all things, it’s really not that hard to say no to bad foods, bad habits, bad judgments. So why then did I not say no today? I thought what the heck, today’s a holiday. I thought this can’t hurt me, not just this one time, this small thing. But the truth of the matter is that it IS a big deal. I broke the law. My own law. And I deserve punishment.
The fairest punishment I can think of, other than to exercise harder tomorrow, is to eat a very small dinner to make up for those unnecessary calories. Only when I know that there are consequences to my actions will I be able to achieve and maintain discipline. Only when I have achieved discipline will I be a true master of myself. And that, my friends, is of quintessential importance to get that perfect body of my dreams.
Exercise Diary #7 – Let’s Keep Up The Good Work November 20, 2007
I certainly worked my back and shoulders today. When I extend my arms out to the side, I can feel a smooth lump between my neck and my shoulders. The curve feels beautiful and sensuous to the touch. Firm and sinewy yet still soft and delicate.
This is what I’d like my entire body to feel like one day.
Already I am excited to feel curves taking shape on my belly. Along the sides and middle of my upper midriff, gentle concaves have formed. Casting shadows on the wide expanse of flesh, these little nooks have added another visual dimension to what was only a month ago just a large shapeless piece of pudge.
The buckets of sweat I’ve shed in the last four weeks whipping my body into shape are slowly paying off. I swear it gets harder and harder to be tempted to feed your body crap again when you know you’ve just gone through hell just to get to this point. Am I a health nut/fitness freak yet? At the rate I’m going, I sure am on my way. But you know what? It feels and looks a zillion times better than being a couch potato/fat ass, so I really don’t care.
How I’ve Become A Chocolate Snob November 19, 2007
Dark chocolate has enraptured me into its seductive snare and it is in submissive abandon that I surrender myself to its deep, intoxicating pleasures.
Gone is my childish crush for the sweet, innocent white and milk chocolate. I’ve fallen in love with their darker, purer counterpart, the mysterious, sensual, and satisfying lover, the mature, serious, and complex intellectual.
My senses have been awakened to an exciting world of rich, intriguing aromas and flavors. Suddenly I feel the urge to sail on a voyage of discovery to smell, taste, and savor the finest chocolates in the world and indulge in the sweet decadence of my passionate love affair with chocolate.
Money: Obsessive Compulsiveness Rules November 18, 2007
Being obsessive-compulsive has its advantages, the most important of which is the fact that I NEVER EVER overspend. Although I am quite impulsive by nature and tend to follow my emotions of the moment to make decisions, I am extremely self-restrained when it comes to money.
Only once in a blue moon do I make the kind of impulsive buys that if done consistently would ruin me financially. The $300 iPod I bought in a Border’s store a couple of years ago because I suddenly realized that everyone but me had iPods was one of the few times in my life when I made an extravagant impulsive purchase. (My next big impulsive purchase will probably be that LCD TV I’ve been coveting for so long, but still can’t afford to buy – I cringe nervously at the thought of the financial mess I’d be in if I let my irresponsible half talk push me into this one.)
No, all in all I am a financially responsible individual thanks to my obsessive-compulsive tendencies. While the ever so competitive narcissistic part of me makes me envy everybody and covet everything everyone else has that I know I can’t have, the fierce obsessive-compulsive part of me wears the pants around the house and makes damn sure she always has the last say when money at stake. I can hear her shouting loud and clear: “I don’t care if you want people to look at you and think you’re hot; you are NOT getting those $100 highlights in your hair, missy!”
Social Avoidance November 15, 2007
We had a potluck at work today. I drank a small glass a wine, listened to the speeches, ate some food, and as soon as I was done I left. A couple of sweet ladies were kind enough to talk to me briefly, but it didn’t take them long to realize how useless it is to have a conversation me. I’m a wallflower. I don’t talk. They may as well have been talking to the walls.
I used to get really anxious in social situations like these. Now I’m just mildly uncomfortable. I still get the same thoughts running through my mind, thoughts like ’I don’t belong here,’ ‘I have nothing smart or interesting to say,’ ‘I probably look stupid standing here by myself,’ etc.
Since I can’t cope with the unbearability of the situation, I capitulate and I retreat. It’s my way of saying to myself, ’alright, you got me. I can’t take this anymore. You win, I lose. Now let’s split.’
The social avoider, that’s me. I’m a master of avoidance.
Over the years I’ve learned that it’s futile for me to try to fit in. I’ve come to see my incapacity to socialize with others as another fact of life, something as natural as swinging my arms when I walk. I don’t bother fighting it anymore. It’d be like defying gravity, which as far I know, is impossible.
So whenever I find myself in potlucks, parties, and banquets, I focus on what is to be done in such events: to eat, and once my mission is accomplished, to leave.
Food Diary #6 – Hooked on Green Tea November 14, 2007
Since I started my diet almost four weeks ago, I’ve made it a habit to drink a cup of plain green tea every day. I read so many wonderful things about the benefits of green tea that I thought I’d incorporate it into my diet. Not only is it a healthy supplement to water, but it is an effective appetite suppressant as well (no wonder it is the drink of choice for supermodels!).
Though it tends to make me feel sick if I drink it on an empty stomach, I’ve found that drinking it with or after a meal doesn’t cause any discomfort. I love how it eliminates my strong post-meal cravings for dessert. A cup of green tea pretty much serves as my dessert these days (another healthy dessert option is a small piece of 70% dark chocolate or a single glass of red wine – not more than once a day, of course).
I choose the decaf green tea version because I’m extremely sensitive to caffeine. However, a cup of regular green tea after lunch helps keep me alert in the lull of the early afternoon hours when I could really use a nap.
All in all, green tea has been a great diet asset. Drinking it without sugar or honey took some getting used to at first, but eventually I found that the flavors of the tea were a lot more discernible, and consequently better appreciated, when I drank it unadulterated.
