![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Woke up this morning at the tail end of an anxiety dream about losing my job about a half an hour later than I normally do, and thus had to zoom through my morning routine. Funny, I used to have nightmares about dying in crashing planes, now it's getting a pink slip. Sign of the times I guess.
I've also come to a conclusion. I'm not going to be happy with myself until I lose ten pounds. Now everybody who's going to start up the "You don't need to lose any weight!" squawk, stop, don't do it, refrain just this once. It doesn't really matter to me whether anybody else thinks I look ok weight-wise. This isn't about that. It's about me not being comfortable in my own skin. I look at myself in the mirror and I don't like what I see. I know what weight works best for me and I want to get back to it. I'm not saying life is suddenly going to be chirping birds and beds of roses, but that's what I want and I intend to have it. Most of the things I want in life are beyond my grasp for one reason or another, this is not. So please, supportive offering of ideas would be greatly appreciated.
It occurs to me that it's a good thing that I'm a pagan for I'd surely be doomed to hell for having spent a good portion of Saturday evening wishing St. Francis dead. But in my defense 5 hours is an awfully long opera particularly when one has rather long legs and is squished into a tiny seat alongside a 400 pound man who..well..overflowed quite a bit.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tersa and I looked at one another after the second act and came to the unavoidable conclusion that we were going to need a trip to Watercourse Way to work the kinks out after that marathon. I was a naughty monkey and skipped dance class to sit in a sauna and let the hot air soothe my poor abused muscles.
I've considered keeping a log of my sleep deficit, just as an experiment to figure out how little I can run on and still function fairly normally. Then I realized I'd only depress myself and wondered what "normal" was anyway.
I'm just all over the place in this posting, sorry guys, incoherence, thy name is Ellie.
Oh, one more thing, Mark DeCascos in a loincloth is just all kinds of good...
I've also come to a conclusion. I'm not going to be happy with myself until I lose ten pounds. Now everybody who's going to start up the "You don't need to lose any weight!" squawk, stop, don't do it, refrain just this once. It doesn't really matter to me whether anybody else thinks I look ok weight-wise. This isn't about that. It's about me not being comfortable in my own skin. I look at myself in the mirror and I don't like what I see. I know what weight works best for me and I want to get back to it. I'm not saying life is suddenly going to be chirping birds and beds of roses, but that's what I want and I intend to have it. Most of the things I want in life are beyond my grasp for one reason or another, this is not. So please, supportive offering of ideas would be greatly appreciated.
It occurs to me that it's a good thing that I'm a pagan for I'd surely be doomed to hell for having spent a good portion of Saturday evening wishing St. Francis dead. But in my defense 5 hours is an awfully long opera particularly when one has rather long legs and is squished into a tiny seat alongside a 400 pound man who..well..overflowed quite a bit.
tersa and I looked at one another after the second act and came to the unavoidable conclusion that we were going to need a trip to Watercourse Way to work the kinks out after that marathon. I was a naughty monkey and skipped dance class to sit in a sauna and let the hot air soothe my poor abused muscles. I've considered keeping a log of my sleep deficit, just as an experiment to figure out how little I can run on and still function fairly normally. Then I realized I'd only depress myself and wondered what "normal" was anyway.
I'm just all over the place in this posting, sorry guys, incoherence, thy name is Ellie.
Oh, one more thing, Mark DeCascos in a loincloth is just all kinds of good...
