My Life as an East Bay Refugee

This morning I woke up early to go to the dentist. This is important to my story because they numbed my mouth and I spent all morning with a sort of droopy lip that made me feel particularly unattractive. Also my mouth hurt and I was tired because I woke up at 6:45 to make it to my 8:00 appointment. Ok, here's the story:

After my appointment, I get on the BART train as usual. Everything seems fine. I drift off to sleep in my little corner of the train. And then the conductor (operator?) starts talking about delays. That isn't unusual for BART so I stay asleep. But then he starts talking about a fire on the tracks and I figure I should maybe be more aware than I usually am.

"This train is being told to turn around," the operator says. "Please exit the train at the next station and take the next train to San Francisco. There will be a train waiting for you on the other side of the station." Obediently the passengers exit the train and we walk across to the waiting train. But when we get on, we are met with a screeching voice "FREEMONT TRAIN! THIS IS NOT THE SAN FRANCISCO TRAIN." Meekly we file out of the train we just entered and back on to the windy platform. I recognize some faces on the platform. Fellow North Concord station people who have been riding with me all the way. We smile weakly as the time ticks by.

Finally a real San Francisco bound train arrives and we gratefull huddle on, grasping our laptop bags and work materials. This new train has one less car than the one we left and there are already people sitting on it, so we scramble for seats. The train moves slowly and the operator again speaks of delays. I settle down and try to sleep again.

"This train is being told to turn around," the operator says. "Please exit at the next station and wait for the next train." Instead of groans and grumbles and infectious giggle begins. No one can believe that this can be happening. I catch the eyes of my fellow North Concordians. We know the drill. We've been on the train for more than an hour now. We shuffle off onto another blustery platform, this one more crowded than the last. We clutch our belongings to us, afraid to lose something in the shuffle. A train arrives, this one shorter than the last and already packed with people. It's like musical chairs for tired angry adults. We push in as many people as we can, but some are left behind in West Oakland. We watch them on the platform as we depart, glad that we made it this time.

"This train is being told to turn around," the operator says. "Please exit at the next station. If you are going farther than the next station..." And in the long silence that follows that statement a man on the train says "You're on your own." In fact we are instructed to once again wait for the next train. I am just two stations from my stop, but the train will go no farther. We flood out on to the platform, tired, ragged, giddy with exhaustion. I catch the eye of a woman who has been with me since North Concord and say "Maybe I should just walk to work." But I don't. I wait and get on to my last train of the day. My fellow refugees and I are tired. We were forced off of our home train, given the leftover seats of other BART lines, left to stand in an overcrowded car. We had been traveling for 2 hours and 20 minutes.

It turns out someone set fire to a controller box or something, thus destroying all chances of me getting to work on time. Now see here you BART destroyer, you. You ruined my morning. So I hope you feel great guilt for what you've done. I hope you too feel my pain. I hope you think twice before you set fire to BART property again!

I'm glad to be home. I'm glad to be in bed and listening to my cat snore. I'm glad I have a day off tomorrow.

Goodnight all. That post was too long. Sorry about that.

One step forward, two steps back

Well I gained .9 pounds this week, I have no money (my bank tells me my net worth is in the negatives) and I have a pile of dirty laundry that is so big it can no longer be contained by my closet doors.

And my grandmother is in town.

Have any of you tried to lose weight when your German grandmother is in town? She doesn't understand what it means to not use butter. She has no intention of letting you eat light. She's making lasagna right now.

I have to admit I'm feeling sort of down. I wanted to use this blog to track my little successes but today I have to confess that I went out to eat last night, charged it on my credit card and ate without restraint. I guess I just can't muster up any self control at all. What do you do when you are fat and broke and your commute is so long it makes you want to die?

Honestly, I'm just really hoping my boyfriend makes it big as an actor.

But this Wednesday is Ceasar Chavez day and I get the day off! And next week I am off to the soothing sands of Sea Ranch. So there is light coming.

As a side note: I may not have internet up in Sea Ranch so I'll do lots of updating this week so you won't feel deprived next week when I may or may not post.

I'm off to battle that lasagna. It's so going to kick my butt.

Wait, that was an alarm?

I think this conversation sort of sums up my day:

Me: Brady, I woke up late today. I didn't get up until 8:30. I couldn't take a shower and now I feel dirty.

Brady: Wow.

Me: I have to catch a train at 8:53.

Brady: Did you make it?

Me: Barely. I think something is wrong with my alarm. It stopped going off this morning. Which is why I woke up at 8:30 instead of 7:15.

Brady: Really?

Me: Yeah, I mean after I hit snooze 4 times, it just stopped going off.

Brady: Wow that's awful...wait, you hit snooze 4 times?

The moral of this story? There could be many. One of them could be that I should get my lazy butt out of bed and stop hitting snooze. Another moral might be that when asking for sympathy, I should leave out a few details to make my plight more pathetic.

But the real moral, the one I'm taking from the encounter: Alarm clocks should go off forever, no matter how many times you hit snooze. My alarm clock has failed me.

(The alarm clock in question. Maybe it just boycotted because it's so dusty...)

Brady advised that I test out my alarm clock some time when I wasn't trying to wake up, but I'm kind of sleepy and that would take lots of time (because I would have to snooze it 4 times). Instead I am going to just take my chances. But I will be showering tomorrow, even if I wake up late. Everyone in the office is on vacation anyway. Except me.

Until tomorrow gentle readers. Until tomorrow.

P.S. If you were wondering what that fuzzy thing is in the upper left hand corner of the photo, that's a stuffed hedgehog. A giant one. What, you don't have one of these in your room? Maybe you should.

Toothpaste and beer

I lost 1.5 pounds this week. This means that I have defied all the laws of nature. I ate terribly, did not follow the food plan (not to mention not following my monthly budget) and I did no exercise. I feel great about this and I hope I can keep up the "do nothing and lose weight" plan. I have already been putting that plan to the test by eating Nation's grilled cheese last night and a nice hearty plate of german food and beer this evening.

However, since I am not betting on that as a successful diet plan I'm going to try and be better this week...from now on...

So, I'm pretty tired. I forgot to brush my teeth this morning (ewwwww grooooosss!) and didn't realize it until I was already at the BART station. At that point all I could do was dig out some old looking gum and chew vigorously. I finally brushed my teeth like an hour ago and they were so happy! I didn't know teeth could feel happy, but they can.

Then I went to wash my face and was just about to start soaping up when I realized I had uncapped the toothpaste and was trying to squeeze it into my hand. So my day sort of came full circle I guess. It began with too little toothpaste and ended with too much.

Technical Difficulties

So, due to some technical difficulties I will not be posting pictures of my ballgown tonight. And by technical difficulties I mean that I do not look skinny enough in it today to post my chubby tummy all over the internet. And I also can't find a picture of a skinny model type wearing it online. So later this week, I'll come up with something.

And thanks for all the comments! I love comments, they make me happy. And I got lots of comments about ballgowns, so yay!

I had a very sedentary weekend again, but that's really just the kind of weekend I like. I went and saw the annual musical at my old high school which was very fun. This year they put on a production of Titanic: the Musical and it was very good, but everyone drowned. Again. They always drown. Still it's nice to know that my old trusty high school choir department is still putting on spectacular big budget shows. The set actually tilted to make it look like a sinking ship...awesome.

And today Brady and I gave each other pedicures...without the polish part. So we gave each other foot massages? It was nice, I liked it. Although I won't lie, I do love me a pedicure at a fancy spa where they have the nice music playing and the scented water and hot towels. Brady and I sang unique renditions of Enya songs and ended up spilling water everywhere, so it was ever so slightly less soothing than Lavande. Although, we really should take our Enya impersonations on the road. If only we knew any of the words....

Oh la la, oh la la let the orinocco flow...lala sail lalalaaaa lala crash upon your shore...hey... hey!

Our best was Rains in Africa which went something like "Ahhhhahhhhahhahaaaaaaa la la ooh ey ohhhhh."

Mmm, the soothing sounds of Enya.

I'm not ready for it to be Monday yet! More weekend!!

That's all for me.

Women's Undergarments and food addiction...my life in Chick Lit

Well, summer must be on it's way because I am officially too hot right now. And like two days ago I was freezing my butt off. What is happening to the weather? What will the weather be tomorrow? I just don't know. I'll have to check weather.com in a bit.

I can't really think of much to say tonight. I really should write earlier so I am not so sleepy when it comes time to write. By the time I sit down to type up my post I have forgotten all the very witty things I was going to say and am thinking only of how nice it will be when I close my eyes and sleep. And yet, I still end up going to bed too late every night. You would think I would learn.

I did in fact buy a ballgown the other day. It's beautiful and I feel stunning in it. And I will need to either lose a lot of weight and get very firm between now and May 15 OR I need to buy a great pair of Spanx. I think we all know which option it's going to be.

The dress was not as cheap as I might have hoped. But it was totally within my monthly budget. The shirt and necklace I bought on that same shopping spree were not in my budget. Nor were the books that I just had to buy while I was out. And of course I came home yesterday to $300 worth of car expenses. Ah yes, destitute again. At least I have a home. And a credit card. Which I am not using because I have to pay it down. But you know, just in case an emergency comes up. (Would this be a bad time to mention that I consider wanting to go out to dinner an emergency? Seriously, this is why I am chubby and broke. Seriously.)

Sometimes I look at my life and I realize that despite all my efforts to be a grown up mature person, I am actually just a weird conglomerate of every chick lit character I have ever read. I'm like Bridget Jones meets Becky Bloomwood meets Jemima J. I'm awkward, addicted to spending money and addicted to food. YES!

I just wish my boyfriend were a combination of all the very rich men that those women meet. It's such a me thing to miss the "attractive to rich single men" part of the equation.

In all seriousness though, my boyfriend is like all those fantastic romantic men in the books, only he makes fun of me more and does not live in a posh London house. Which, while a major downfall, can be overlooked since he makes me laugh.

And now, I will cease my rambles and bid you all goodnight.

It's too late to be up...or is it?

Happy Monday! I know that technically it's Tuesday, but only if we adhere to that Daylight Savings Time thing. Which I don't.

Ok, I do, but only because my boss, who is very understanding and sweet would be less understanding and sweet if I was an hour late to work every day. Especially since I would insist on adhering to Daylight Savings Time at the end of the day when it was time to go home. Which would mean I was working too few hours.

Why do I keep capitalizing Daylight Savings Time? Do I perhaps both love and hate it? Does it hold strange power over me even as I fight its terrible time stealing effects? Is it's power so complete that it becomes a formal noun?

And more importantly, are we even in Daylight Savings Time? Or is Daylight Savings Time enacted when we fall back? When is the daylight being saved? Why can't I have my hour back?

The only plus side to Daylight Savings Time is coming home while it is still light out. I may have previously mentioned (like 8 times) that awful long commute thing that forced me to come home in the dark so that I felt like I had lost my whole evening on a BART train. Today I came home to full sunlight. It made me feel like I had left work early. It made me want to do things with my night. Like go to Barnes and Noble and spend lots of money I don't have! Yay!

Oh Daylight Savings Time....leading me down an evil path of blatant consumerism...you crafty dictator.

Anyway, since it's Monday, the official weigh in says....that I am down 1.3 pounds. Success! Will be mine! At Last!

I just read a blog post that said readers have short attention spans and they like pictures. The blog also suggested posting pictures of my ass to encourage new readership. I don't want to do that, especially since this is a blog that partially focuses on my weight loss efforts (and failures) so my bottom would be... unappealing. I will however end this post now to appease your short attention spans (although if you read my blog, it can't be that short) and leave you with this picture. I expect you to recruit new followers now since I am pandering to the whims of the masses.

No, I'm just kidding. I'm not like Daylight Savings Time. I would never try to force your compliance. Or make you recruit. Or steal your precious hour of sleep.

This picture does not show my bottom in any way shape or form. It does show you how I am awkward. And illustrates how I feel after eating too much at Disneyland. And yes, I'm stuck in that giant letter. And no, my feet are not touching the ground. And yes, Brady did have to help me out. And yes, that's how Brady and I spent our anniversary. I know, you wish you were me.