Good Tries

cheese and chocolate, how I love thee

I am doing things. At the risk of sounding like a Sussex Countian, I am getting it gone.
I am eating right. I am exercising.
I am tired of having to strain to reach my keyboard because my belly is lodged between me and my desk.
I am determined.
I am dieting, hear me roar!

Who am I kidding. I'd trade my first born for some mozzarella sticks and a twix bar.
I'm hungry. You would think I'd have enough fat stored up to last at least a week but it's been 3 days and all I can think about is food. Delicious, glorious, pre-packaged, over processed, makes a lot of noise when you open the wrapper food.

I make myself sick.
Sick and starving.

The Stoke Factor

Last weekend my darling husband and I went camping. Well, not exactly camping so much as sleeping in my mom's Airstream trailer that's parked in her yard, 10 feet from the house. Hey, it was 5 miles to the beach so that counts for something. Anyhow, lying on the beach for the first time all summer was beyond blissful. It wasn't until the beach became progressively more crowded did I start to pick up on other people's conversations.
"........dude I know, there's like way less heads here.."
".....dude, for sure we've been having the best weekend...I'm so stoked!"
.....for sure we did dude, we got laid on Friday..now we're surfin' some waves!"
......yea man, stoke factor is up!"
These two sounded like they had just read a book on surfer lingo written in 1990 and were trying it out for the very first time. Husband and I laughed and laughed.

I'm back in the saddle. (Actually my ass barely fits in the saddle.)
Damn it I'm fat and I'm sick of it. I'm back on my diet (which I prefer to call a refined way of living.)
I've alerted my co-workers of my commitment and they have agreed to watch my consumptions. Skinny bitches.
I had a salad for lunch and will have a light and nutritious dinner after I take a vigorous walk.
Stoke factor is way down but hopefully soon my weight will follow.

The Potato Diet

The diet is not going so well.
Dinner last night was gnocchi. The night before that was gnocchi. (Husband makes a mean sauce.) Tonight was fish sticks with a special potato crust. They are fabulous and well worth the calories.
But alas my body has had enough.
I tried to put my wedding ring on this morning and it refused. That's right. Even my fingers are overweight.
I got winded this morning walking from my desk to the bathroom.
Every day starts out with the best of intentions and then one little slip up starts a landslide of bad eating decisions. When PMS rolls around I use it as an excuse to eat mass quantities of chocolate. When my period inevitably comes I use that to eat mozarella sticks and chocolate. When my period is over I'm so hooked on the junk I can't stop and I figure I already fucked up my diet the past two weeks so why not keep going.
My fingers have fat rolls so I think it's time to stop.
Besides I think I'm finally full.

Good Luck Me

I am shifting my focus. I have to.
To the five people who read this blog I warn you there will be a change of content.
I can't focus on getting pregnant anymore I am convinced it is not the right time for us.
I have some personal issues that need to be dealt with first.
I still want this, more than anything.
But I need to take care of myself first, and give my kid a fighting chance.
Let the world screw them up, not me.
So now, I will focus on my marriage, my art and my mental health.

Wish me luck.

I am gross

I am sick, sick, sick.

Allow me to paint a written picture of my appearance, then feel free to ask my husband if he will ever get it up for me again.
I am on the couch, surrounded by tissues both new and used. Mostly used.
My hair has matted into one rather large dreadlock.
I have snot exploding from my nose every other minute which cannot be controled even by the largest arsenal of toilet paper Sam's Club can provide.
I'm also using wads of it to plug my left nostril which is super sexy.
I am drifting between groggy consciousness and blissful sleep in which I dreamed I waited tables in a restaurant owned by Steve Martin.
The only thing I look forward to is my next dose of cough syrup.
I was told taking a hot shower would help.
I still feel like shit.
But I am clean.

A Letter to My Period

Dear Period:

Wow.
I really admire your determination.
Month after month, there you are.
Sometimes I really don't think you're gonna show and then BAM! You appear.
Sometimes I pray you don't come and then cry when you do.
No matter to you, you just keep on truckin'.

You're something else, you really are.

That's why I've decided that you deserve a vacation.
I was thinking maybe....say.....9 months or so?
Come on you deserve it.

Think about it.

Love,
Cassie

The Wonder Tears

We lost our free cable.
Six weeks ago I wouldn't have gave a shit, but damn it I loved having the Wonder Years. I got so used to it. Almost comforted by it. It became my bedtime ritual. Now......nothing. Actually that's not true. The only channel we now get is VH1. That's right. Out of all the channels, we get VH fucking 1. One step up from MT fucking V. What's worse is that I've actually caught myself watching it. (I took five showers after.)
Oh cruel world.

The wierd spotting has come to an end. I believe it was just my body's way of telling me that I am so capable of miscarrying that I can have them when I'm not even pregnant! That takes skill.
Yeah....I'm kind of a big deal.

I'm Breezy

I've been trying a new approach this month, very breezy, very la la la who cares about getting knocked up? It's actually working a little. I'm subscribing to the theory that it will only happen the month we don't try. So then I can enjoy telling people (while holding my perfect baby)
"....and we were'nt even trying! Isn't life funny!"
My nonchalance was interupted this morning by brown spotting. EXACTLY like I had with my miscarriages. Only I'm not pregnant. I'm not even due for my period until Thursday. What this means I can only assume is not good. I know about implantation bleeding, a more optimistic person would probably believe that was what it is. But I've never experienced that before and since I associate brown spotting with death I will continue to be passively discouraged. I also have a wicked case of PMS. So wicked that I locked myself in the bedroom last night with a glass of wine and the box set of Friends DVDs while telling my husband through gritted teeth I'd be seeing him when I got my period. (I saw him later that night, apparently he thought it was cool to sleep in his own bed. Jerk.) Even Friends were pissing me off. The one where Rachel takes a pregnancy test at Monica's wedding and while marveling at her beautiful positive she exclaimes "I'm gonna have a baby!" They hug. Happiness abounds. Must be nice to automatically assume a baby will result from your positive test Rachel.
I hate everyone.