Revelation

I just got the new People Magazine, in which Portia De Rossi talks about her struggle with anorexia.  If you haven't read it, you totally should.  I'm not a big fan of hers really, I've never watched her shows, but the article was really great.  At her lowest weight she was 82 pounds.  I got down to 85 before I saw a picture of myself from the back, and realized that I looked like a skeleton.  While she was able to go to a treatment center, I went to a support group.  While for her it was about being skinny, for me it was about being in control.  I started restricting myself when my parents were splitting up, I was twelve.  It seemed like everything in my world was beyond my control.  Food intake was one thing I could control. 

College was when it got really bad, though.  While away at college, I was totally broke.  Every dime I earned was going to bills and tuition- with little to nothing left over.  I worked at a restaurant, and often the meal I got there was the only one I would eat.  Period.  If I didn't work- I didn't eat.  It was almost a contest with myself- let's see how long I can go without eating!  Finally I saw a picture of myself, and saw just how I must look to everyone else.  I called my dad, and told him I wanted to come home.  I never told him the real reason why, but I was pretty sure that if I didn't go home, where people loved me, I was going to starve myself to death. 

Ten years of restricting was- so hard to overcome.  With the help of a support group- filled with girls who had all gone through the same struggle- and the love of my family, I was able to overcome.  Since then, I've had one relapse.  My church was having a three day fast- and I thought I could do it too.  After a day and a half, I was- enjoying the feeling far too much.  I was excited that weight was dropping.  All the old feelings came back, like an ex you just can't seem to get out of your head.  But I'm better.  I eat several small meals a day, walk with my dog, and stay healthy.  But it wasn't easy. 

The Silver Lining

Pretty much thought today was going to suck. Laid off, which in itself just makes the day lame.  To top it off, its Friday so all I wanted to do was have a big glass of wine and read my book (Towers of Midnight, by Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson.  I highly recommend it)- but instead I spend the day sitting at my desk, filing.  And dreading the fact that I have to start looking for another job, the most hated task in the world. Except for maybe Pap smears.  Ugh. 

Anyway, I had plans to go to a friend's house and play with her kids, but I ran home first to change out of the annoying turtle neck sweater I had on.  Every time I wear the darn thing it annoys me, but somehow I keep putting it back in my closet.  It was a good thing I went home, because someone was hunting out by our house and my poor dog was scared witless, cowering in her dog house.  I put on this hideous black hoodie, because all I was going to do tonight was hang out with my friend and her kids, with a good chance of getting spit up on.  I got over to my friend's house, got settled on the couch with the baby- and my phone starts going off.  Boyfriend!!!

This is me, thrilled.  See, boyfriend and I are sort of broke.  As I've mentioned before, Oregon's economy sucks.  So when he gets a chance to do some work, he does it!  He's been working like seven days a week.  I hate it, but hey.  A man has to pay his bills.  Actually, that sounds way more understanding than I actually have been.  I've been kind of a nagging bitch, but I miss him.  He asked me where was a good place to eat, and I told him, and he said to meet him there in ten minutes.  So we went to dinner and it was so great to see him!  He's just adorable.  You don't even understand.  He defintely turned my bad day around.

Now taking applications for a suitable sugar daddy...

Ugh.  Gotta love today's economy.  Just found out that today is my last day at work.  I'm laid off, again.  Dandy.  Before this job, which I've had for less than two months, I had been out of work for two months.  So I was out of work longer than I've been working!  There is something seriously wrong with this picture people!  I love my job, I love my coworkers, and I'm a great worker.  Problem is, there is not enough work for me.  Blah.  I did such a good job, they don't need me anymore. 

So I'll probably spend the weekend feeling sorry for myself and crying into my Oreos.  Then I'll start looking for work.  I'd like to find something with a liveable wage- not exactly the easiest thing to find these days.  I used to make fifteen bucks an hour.  Now I'm lucky to find a job making ten.  Plus you need to be bilingual, a contortionist, and be okay with your boss taking weird pictures of your feet.  Not to offend anyone out there with a foot fetish!  If I was willing to do that, I might stoop to other things.  Such as- escorting some rich old dude to all his parties so long as he pays my bills.  But I couldn't stoop to sleeping with him.  No offense to all you old dudes, but old balls are totally gross.  Okay, maybe sugar daddies are out.  At least old ones.  Are there any young guys with lots of money?  I'm cute, I promise!  I may have to ask Boyfriend how he feels about this... somehow I can't imagine it going over that well. 

Wait, is that what I think it is?

So this is my first ever blog.  Which makes me want to do a really, really good job so millions of people will want to read it and I will be famous and awesome.  That was a terrible sentence but I'm gonna go with it, kay?  I wish I was writing this blog from somewhere fantastic, like sitting in a hotel in an exotic location, or a coffee shop in Paris.  But no, I'm in a little town in Oregon, sitting in my living room.  There is not much exciting to do in this size, unless you're a big fan of cow tipping.  Not so much.  I'm like 100 pounds soaking wet.  So here goes, my shot at an awesome blog :)

Some time ago, it was time to take my (former) boyfriend to meet my folks.  Folks being my dad and my stepmom, if you really want to know.  I don't take boys to meet my mother.  More on that at a later time.  Anway, we make the two hour trip to meet the fam.  Of course I was nervous, because I'm really close to my dad, and it matters to me what he thinks.  I was head over heels take me to the altar in love with this boy, so I really wanted my dad to like him.  The actual meeting part went fine, normal, no big deal.  Boyfriend, meet Dad.  Dad, meet Boyfriend.  No problems there.  No, the problem arose when Boy needs to use restroom.  Being the nice, accomodating girlfriend that I was, I led him down the hall, past the spare bedroom, where he draws up short.  Of course, the door is open.  And, of course, there is a pole floor to ceiling.  Yes, a stripper pole.  Dear Lord in Heaven, give me strength.  How in the world am I supposed to explain that??? 

Boy:  Is that what I think it is?

Me:  Yes, I think it is.

Boy:  Why is there a stripper pole in your dad's house?

Me:  ....................um................. (At this point, my brain completely ceased to function.  The only thing I could picture was my stepmom and the pole.  Ugh.  And I was supposed to sleep in this room?)

Boy:  Nevermind, I have to pee.  Maybe you could do a little dance for me later.  (He proceeds to waggle his eyebrows up and down.  Ha.)

Oh yeah, that's exactly what I'm going to do.  Rub my lady parts on a pole.  Where my stepmom has been rubbing hers.   Where do I sign up? 

You would think the pole in itself would have been enough humiliation for one trip, but no.  The true shame came when my poor unsuspecting dog started licking the pole.  Good grief... Now, I already knew my family was freaking weird, but a stripper pole? Really?  What's next?  Goats?