Now Playing -
"Whirring Corporate Machinery Blues" in D-flat.
Now Eating -
too...much...chocolate!
Now Feeling -
headachy.
Now Tweeting
- Melanie
I ordered this dress last week for the wedding I�m going to this Saturday. The website said it would take 6-10 business days, so I decided to shop around to see if I could find it locally. Bought it the next day at Lord & Taylor, on sale and in a smaller size (go me!). Emailed Nordstrom to see if they could cancel the order, as it was still �pending,� and they said they�d give it a shot. The dress showed up on my doorstep the next morning. Hello, 6-10 business days! Thank you for your expeditiousness, Nordstrom, but geeze, I wish things would show up his quickly when I want them!
But then there are the shoes. The dress is kind of an odd color (Foil? What is this �foil� of which you speak? Couldn�t it just be �pewter?� Or a nice �gunmetal?� �Smoky blue� ferchrissakes?), so I figured I�d have shoes dyed to match. (All this for a wedding I�m not even a member thereof.) Brought the shoes in last Thursday, spoke with Son of Owner who made up a swatch that seemed to match nicely. He said they�d be ready Saturday. Saturday comes, and he hasn�t even touched �em. �Come back Wednesday.� Wednesday comes, I go, and Other Son and Owner are there. And the shoes are...lilac. The swatch #1 Son made is nowhere to be found. As is #1 Son himself. Owner tells me �how hard grey is to match,� how his customers say over and over again that if �I can�t match the color, it can�t be matched,� how it says on the ticket that dye work is done at the customer�s risk. All I wanna know is how grayish-blue became lilac in the span of a week. Owner says he�ll add some grey, it�s a night wedding, who�ll know? I�ll know, that�s who. �Screw this,� I say to myself, and head off to The Maul in Quest for Shoes.
And I actually find a pair! I hemmed and hawed a great deal � �They�re Aerosoles...that�s only a step away from Easy Spirits...are these really cha-cha enough to wear with a cocktail dress? If I buy these, I�ll have spent more on shoes than on the dress itself.� But I gave in � the matchability factor was too great. So when I pick up my lilac-grey shoes on Friday, I�m gonna take �em home and throw �em in the closet. I�ll have them dyed black the next time I need another pair of cha-cha pumps.
Because a girl can never have too many black shoes.
So yeah, bought the dress in a smaller size. Granted, it�s not very fitted, but that�s got to be some evidence that this �working out like a maniac� thing is working. Parts of me are smaller and firmer than they used to be, my skin looks clearer, I have more energy...now if I could only counter the �eat everything in sight� urge maybe we�d be getting somewhere. Problem is I have next-to-no willpower. Couple that with a slowing metabolism, and here we go jumping dress sizes every five years or so. I blame college. Junior year, armed with my own apartment, a still-functioning metabolism, late night takeout menus and a fridge, I was struck by the knowledge that I could make and/or eat anything I wanted at any time of the day or night. Oh, it was fabulous, in a starving actor-Scarlett O�Hara-never-go-hungry-again kinda way. But not in the I-very-quickly-got-used-to-never-telling-myself-no kinda way. Fat Fast-forward seventeen years, and all those midnight pizzas add up. And off she goes, ellipticizing away�.
I hit the proverbial wall on the elliptical last week�several days of �My, when did this get so easy?� So I�ve upped the intensity. I hate that. I hate working out in general. I revel in my bad attitude, and therefore anything good that comes out of exercise is an added bonus. But dang, it is work.
Ideally I�d like to go to sleep and wake up a size four, but that certainly ain�t happening.
Huz woke up about half an hour before the alarm was set to go off this morning. He puttered around the apartment (insuring that I wasn�t getting back to sleep for that half-hour, but that�sanotherstoryanyway�) and was finishing the morning paper when I finally tottered out.
�I couldn�t sleep�too achy.�
�Talk to the uterus,� I replied with a flip of my hand.
As I tucked him back in bed, he was singing under his breath, and I though I heard a familiar word.
�What are you singing?�
�A...little song.�
�What song is it?�
�If I could talk to the uterus, just imagine it....�
I married a strange, strange man.
~^ would you like to
leave word? ^~
3
of you lovely people have left word so
far
~^ what
was ~ what
will be ^~
~^ randomize me! ^~
a very fine cat indeed - Friday, Jan. 17, 2014
happy new year! - Thursday, Jan. 24, 2013
this is where i am - Saturday, Jun. 30, 2012
this is how it is - Friday, Feb. 24, 2012
a very late last year's wrap-up - Wednesday, Jan. 18, 2012
~^
^~
