debutaunt.com

It's Zoetown Once Again

She's baaaaaaaaaaaack!

Cuter than ever. And all is right with my world again.

A few of us got together for dinner. Zoe's dad joined us. By 9pm, well... this was the result. Beyond cuteness.

Too tired to write. Too happy to sleep.

The scar tissue that is my heart

So. What do you do when you have a really really important day coming up and you need to have your wits about you?

You get yer drink on and stay awake all night for no apparent reason.

You call your ex spouse and see if he is on his way to the airport. Since he's got your child and all. Fortunately he's awake and headed to the airport.

You search through boxes of your child's keepsakes looking for the CERTIFIED copie of her birth certificate, of which apparently you don't fucking have one. Not that they need it for her school registration or anything.

You drink 4 shots of Gingerbread men - which is Buttery Nipple with a hit of Goldschlager (and shit I know I didn't spell that right) at some bar.

You skip dinner and try to exist on fumes. Then go to breakfast with friends, order something fairly healthy only to have either the waitress or the cook make your food vanish into thin air. It took them an hour and a half. For me to eat... nothing. Maybe for the best.

You look at baby pictures of your child when you are trying to find her birth certificate and wonder how you produced such an amazing looking being. You also find way old pictures of yourself, think of Y @ Joy Unexpected (can't do the linky thing in Mozilla) and her cute pic post of her and her husband as kids, and then wonder exactly when did my appendages become so large. It was sometime between high school and college? The fuck?

You take pictures of your smeary makeup and download them only to realize you look like you are crying. Oh. Wait. You might have been. It's that damn Coldplay song, "I'll Fix You." Gets you every time.

You take pictures of the only lovely, funny boy at the bar. He's sexy. Cute. And yet... wait... why yes. He did trade shoes with you so that he could wear your four inch come fuck me pumps and then be tall enough to date you. Except that he ended up kissing another chica. Not that I could blame him or anything, but still. Let's review. Cute boy. Pumps. Kissing another girl. That's how it's supposed to work, right?

You look at LK at the bar and laugh hysterically over things that weren't all that funny, but they ... just were. Thinking of acorn. Nearly hork over acorn dick stories.

Receive text messages from someone. Laugh. Like an idiot.

You wonder why you haven't eaten. You admire the bruises on your stomach from all the insulin shots. You silently curse the incompetent staff at IHOP.

You forget what you were going to write and tell yourself to get your half drunk, half starving dumb ass to bed. But not until you wash that whore makeup of your smeary eyes. And floss. Floss when drunk.

Cute boy in my sexy shoes. Somehow not so sexy.

Spell? The Hell?

Ok. I am an editor who is shit speller. I practically live on dictionary.com. I can usually catch something when I'm reading it, but writing... oh hell no. I often spell phonetically when I'm tired. And now I'm also somewhat of a lazy typist, since I read or format more than type.

So damnit, if you see me constantly misspelling a word, please don't hint. TELL ME. Please. Just like Meerkat always reminds me that I do that thing wrong... Like when I say mommmmm. It really should be moooooooom.

It took me years to memorize how to spell diarrhea. (just remembered Rhea Perlman)

I'm still at work. It's my last night off sans Zoester. Trying to figure out what to do. I'm off tomorrow, so even if I go out, I might still workout at like 2am for the hell of it. Or just go grocery shopping.

I'm so excited, yet I hope that I can keep up my badass workouts and stuff. It's hard to be a workin mom. Shit. It's hard to be a mom at all.

Anyway, my pic of the day. Here is what is written at the top of my whiteboard in my office.

If you can't read it, it says 500,000,000 days until vacation.

Sadly that is not an exaggeration.

Hope

Last year I found myself in a situation with an unruly cat named Penny. Someone I knew was moving into an apartment with his roommate who was really allergic to dogs and cats. So my friend had to find a new place for his pets. He was devastated. So I illegally took Penny into casa Debu, but she was such a little bitch.

I tried like the dickens to find a new home for the cat, but after 3 months, eventually had to take this mean fucker to the pound. They said they would try to place Penny, but I wasn't sure what became of her. Even though that cat tore up my house, scared Zoe, kept us up all night, literally scared Zoe's poor hamster, Baby Jack, to death, I still cried when I had to take her in.

So when I heard of this cool organization, I absolutely had to give it a plug.

My friend Dookie volunteers for this organization in Houston called HOPE (see extended for details - link on my site).

So, if you are in H-Town, and you want to volunteer or even donate money, here's a good place to give if you've got it.

HOMELESS & ORPHANED PETS ENDEAVOR (HOPE) is an all-foster, no kill adoption group based in the Houston area. We have a network of individuals and families that provide foster care for animals (some too young or sick for adoption) until they can be adopted into loving, responsible homes.

HOPE covers the cost of general medical expenses for the animals in the program, such as altering, routine vaccinations and treatment for parasites. Our foster families are asked to provide food, shelter and love to the animals for which they care. They receive no payment for the services that they provide. If at all possible they are reimbursed for some of their costs, but the majority care for their foster animals gratis. Without them, and the other volunteers who so selflessly do what is necessary to keep HOPE afloat, it would not be possible to run this nonprofit corporation.

One aim of HOPE is to develop a network of area rescue and humane organizations which will facilitate the rescue and placement of a variety of animals. The goal is to never have to turn away an animal in need. By forming a coalition of humane and rescue groups in the Houston area, we could potentially place all animals who need a temporary home until they are placed into a permanent one.

Dear Stinky People

Dear People of Texas,

It's Africa hot here. Please bathe.

And if you are a smoker, for the love of Baby Jesus, please let that malingering odor dissipate before you get in the elevator. I almost puked on your shoes.

You offend.

Tell em the Dog Hater Sent Ya

Ok. Most people know I'm not a pet person.

Doesn't mean that I hate pets, just that they are not so much for me. I like animals and will play with them, while at *your* house, just not at casa_debu.

But one of our local peeps has this gorgeous Dalmatian named Torin. Torin, the poor dear, has found himself with some bitches of kidney stones. Well Torin's Dad is a bit strapped for a huge ass vet bill, so I was hoping some of you lovelies could spare a buck or ten to help him out of this predicament.

If you could be so kind so as to send a paypal his way, please send it to the Paypal account at prppp@hotmail(dot)com

(please replace the (dot) with an actual... well, dot if you didn't get that piece of anti-spamitude)

Me and Torin's kidney stones would be ever so grateful for what you could spare. Even if it's a prayer or ten.

Did you all know that righteous is spelled like that and not richeous?

I sure as fuck didn't.

And damn if I haven't been misspelling that bitch for YEARS people!! YEARS!!

Finally

A busy work day.

Best. Tomato. Ever.

It's official

I'm addicted

Your Body is a Temple

An ode to my Sacred Shiny Shrine of the Stink Stink Protein

Haiku Style:

Dear Starkist Tuna
Awash in the stink of death
Taste good; smells bad, yo

Sugarless goodness
Ode to my diet soda
Guiltless love; Caffeine

My office, she stink
My haiku, she more than stink
Both to the trash can

Entertain me. I'm obviously bored as hell.

In the vein... in the vein

Just hook me up to a Diet Coke IV, will you?

Today will be the

longest
day
evah!

Oh Stinky Commuter Boy

I pick up strangers.

At the bus stop.

So that I can ride in the HOV lane downtown, thereby saving myself about an hour in the morning/evening.

So this morning I pick up this roughneck dude. I swear I was getting serial killer vibe from him. He seemed nervous and waited for a while before he put on his seat belt.

It's weird to pick up people because you are driving so you can't really take too long of a look at them, much less stare at them long enough to be able to give a description to a sketch artist if they attack you. I don't like that part of it.

The dude. Well. He stink. He stinks bad, like a kinder, gentler version of a homeless man. That kind of stink that mixes sweat, no shower, and cigarettes.

He had a supreme twangy accent. I couldn't tell exactly from where, but in later conversation, I find out Georgia. I also find out he's a plumber, just started his own business, is married to his third wife, lives in a place called Peekaboo, Texas, broke two ribs slipping on the porch of his trailer home two weeks ago ("slipped on some slime"), and he has a neighbor who had his arm ripped off in an industrial accident.

We come to a stoplight and I take a gander at him. And he's like freakishly good looking. He's got some major cuts to his face and a big ol big ol scar on his neck. Like about .5 inch thick and about 2 inches long.

But he's got a rugged man face that is both sweet and scared. Like the early version of Pre-Passion of the Jesus Mel Gibson

Wonder if he realized just how bad he stank? I sprayed perfume in my car and rolled down the windows when he got out.

Weird that he was that good looking, yet near hobo all at the same time.

Bollocks

If it seems like a fantastic idea at 4am.

It probably isn't.

Never is.

Hookereyes or is it Hookerize?

What do you do at 5am when you come home from a wild night of ass shaking?

Why, take drunken pictures of yourself and post them of course.

Big time hooker eyes. I don't think I've wore that much eye makeup in my life. Although some nine hours later, the sexy smoky eye look has now since been replaced with the dazed drunken eyes (aka the LK phenomenon ... heh).

Showing some breasteses. Damn. 4am. In my car listening to a cd my baby sis made me. Took a snap for posterity.

Jesus McBoob, I'm one tired 'mami chulo.' (got called that tonight)

I bought some new clothes today. I got new sneaks (pics forthcoming - woo!) and I bought jeans, a shirt, a beaded cuff bracelet and some cool retro dangly earrings. (yay for Dad's birthday envelope)

Oh, and please note that when I tried on my normal size, the jeans and shirt were too big. Yeah. I hadn't felt like I had made any progress with BFL really, but I am actually now down one whole size. And I dropped two notches on my belt. Four weeks - Yippeekayaymotherfuckers!

I sort of looked good and kinda sexy in my push up bra, but sweated my dancin' ass off. I really gotta move to Alaska (Rachel, get working on that, will ya?) It's like a freaking sauna outside.

We had dinner at the fabulous D1's casa (um beautiful!) and then went downtown with my sistagirlfriends and other peeps. We were looking all smokin hottie - even the usually low key Meerkat (oh she of the Doc Martins) was showing off her sexy legs in a mini and some high heels and looking dangerous and devastating.

I got my Tiffanys fix with a sweet bookmark from D1 and her mini-me and a lovely hand carved sculpture from the Sassy Ms. Paige. It's so beautiful and sweet - it is 'happiness' and is a figure with arms outstretched and birds perched on the arms. I want to keep that one next to my bed.

I got some scratch offs and lotto tickets from my main man Beatleman, so I best get crackalackin to see if my numbers made me a rich boo-ya bitch. Waiting on the Fit for Life cookbook Meerkat got from my Wishlizzle - totally psyched about that. You would be surprised what obsessing about food for 27 days will do to a girl. I get excited. About cookbooks. Who needs a man when you can make egg white omlettes?

I also bought a bellydancing DVD. Looks fun if nothing else.

Ok, I'm turning into a pumpking. Whoops a pumpkin. Snap for new comments! Y you are one sneaky sessy beyotch!

Peace and Panties to you all.

38 year old parts

Newly pedicured toes/said adios to the sneaks for the day. Dig the shoes?

Say hello to my new set of birthday luggage.

Jessica Simpson and I are so damn tight now. Not only do we share the same rock solid abs, she flew me in last week so we could be all lesbo and get big fluffy collagen lips together.

One day I will be normal again.

Goodnight Naughty.

44..43..42 minutes left of 37

And I'm bringing in the new Debyear with pretty toes and hands and a belly full of steak and a big ol' smile on my face.

Paige and Meerkats are good peeps!

Get naked today!

Brought to you by the letter

I haven't been putting much thought into my clothing choices lately. I think I'm going to start a clothing fund drive or something so that I may reward myself with a new wardrobe when I get my ass from two into one.

Until then, I continue to wear clothes that make me want to pluck my eyeballs out.

Is it time for my pedicure yet?

Mini Mini

I call Zoe every day. I miss her beyond comprehension. I can't get used to this being alone stuff. Yes it's nice to be able to eat a hot meal without having someone ask you for 1390483 different things, but reading a book before bedtime while your kiddo falls asleep is just about the best thing in life.

I usually call on my way to the gym. She then asks if I'm going to the gym, and she starts crying that she wants to come home nooooooooowmommyyyyyyy. She sounds miserable, but I know it's only when she talks to me. Then she thinks about her house and her mom and her cousins and friends. She's cried for the past two days. It kills me. "I love you mommy, and want to come home NOW!"

I don't have any time off for the rest of the year. So when I go to pick Z and her dad up at the airport on the 29th, I also have to stop by her doctor's office to get her a shot for school. I'll be registering her for class that morning too. Going to be a busy day. But I can't wait to see her. I swear I'm going to be bawling when I pick her up.

She is gonna be pissed though. All this time playing and having fun at dads, and as soon as she gets home - a shot and a new wake up time - 6:45 (in preparation for kindergarten).

I think I'm too tired to write. I have to take tonight off from working out because the leg workout from the other day still aches. Too much time on the elliptical trainer I think too. I think I'll go have a manicure/pedicure.

The first day I got my new picture phone, I told Zoe to look in the camera and make a face. Funny thing was that she made the same exact face as me.

Damn, I miss that kid.

yo. 2 days and then I'm old as Tom Cruise's Man-gina

Counting down.

38. Weird.

Thanks for stopping by debu_oldhag. Don't forget to tip your waitresses. For Shizzle My Wishlizzle.

I'm disgusting. We aren't allowed to throw away food trash in our office trashcans. Because of the "building rats." Like this is the nappy ghetto or something. Whateves. So I usually just let that shit pile up and take it all down to the kitchen at the end of the day.

Today was a banana-eating-monkey-protein caca shake drinkin-yogurt kind of day.

I worked out so hard last night that when I came home, I was still sweating hours later. I wasn't all that hungry even though I had just gone to the grocery and had yumtastic food products, so I had a yogurt, some almonds and like 3 bananas. My skin is now turning yellow from the banana carnage.

Ode to the protein'd one, a haiku:

protein fills me up
but those shakes taste like butthole
not that I would know

Step Away from the Men In Blue

I find myself wondering what Dr. Egypt is up to. A lot.

I don't know why I miss him. Maybe because we parted on nice terms. And because he was so lovely, funny and worldly. He was a man's man. And he adored me. (well as best as he could adore anyone).

And The Boy for Sex started sleeping with someone else. So he will no longer be *MY* Boy for Sex. He had told me that he really still wanted to be my friend and hang out, but that while the sex was fun, the fact that I was getting too "attach-ey" was not. Mmmkay. Keep flattering yourself and your head will explode.

Then he feels the need to tell me that he slept with someone else. Because we had an agreement. I was like.. um, no. You said you didn't want to sleep with me anymore, ergo the agreement is null and void. And since you won't be spending any more time between MY legs, your obligation to inform me is also null and void. Sorry, while I may have some self esteem issues from time to time, I have never felt that desperate to beg someone to fuck me. I'd rather go without. Infinity.

Between work, raising my Zoe, and my fitness training, I don't have time to find another guy, nor do I really want to at this point. I have come to the realization that men come in these varieties:

a) Big time perverts. Like too freaky for words. When they tell you they want to watch you fuck another man or use buttplugs, nipple clamps or other various sexual implements *before* you even meet them ... well it's offputting to say the least.

b) Boring. Ok. Yeah. I truly like nice guys. But you have to be at least a little bit sexy to hang with me. Make a move. Be a man about it. Grow some balls. And put down the Star Wars action figures long enough to kiss me.

c) Assholes. Generally my first impression of you is always right on the money. Some assholes are dead sexy, but they aren't worth the trouble.

d) Married. All the good/sexy men in my life are married.

e) Have fucked/kissed or otherwise engaged in some time of pre-fornication or fornication with someone I know or someone I think is skanky. Sorry. Me no likey to eatey at the venereal buffet (thanks to Candyfloss for that perfect description)

f) Live in BFE. Or another country or city too far to be practical to date much less have sex with.

g) Some version of the above, or basically just aren't attracted to my special form of cute. Which is ok.

So here is my declaration of celibacy for the next 1934081230 years.

Infinity.

Never

Although I don't think I'd ever apply for The Amazing Race, I do think traveling is exciting and interesting.

My homie, Simplygreg, had these sample questions on his blog. Thought since I'm bored as hell, I'd post my answers as well.

What famous person reminds you of yourself?
- A mix between Monica Lewinsky, Carrie Fisher, and Snow White

What most excites you about traveling?
- Seeing cities as a tourist, and not as someone who lives there and takes it all for granted.

What is your opinion of foreigners?
- Most of them are sexy. Or dangerous. Or both, which makes them dead sexy.

What country and place would you most like to visit and why?
- Italy. The architecture and history. I want to go see the Pope. And I love Italian men. I cried when I was in St. Patrick's cathedral in NYC, I can't imagine how I would feel visiting the Vatican City. (that and Egypt. But only if I went with Dr. Egypt).

What part of the world is the least interesting and why?
- Houston. If you've lived here, you'd know why.

List the three adjectives that best describe you:
- Lucky
- Funny
- Dorky

What is the accomplishment that you are most proud of?
- Would have to be my Zoe. She's amazing and connected to me in ways I can't begin to explain.

Describe your perfect day:
- Waking up with some great coffee in a cabin in the woods. Somewhere cold. And playing in the snow with my kiddo. Spending the whole day outside and coming in to drink hot cocoa.

How do you blow off steam?
- Write, exercise, spend time with my family and friends, and laugh. Heartily.

What is your favorite topic of conversation at a dinner party? What topics are off limits?
- Any conversation at dinner party is cool with me, although I really dislike talking about online forum cacamonkery with people.

What sports, hobbies, or special skills do you have?
- I like to ride a bike. And I like to play basketball although I suck at it. I read as a hobby, but nothing anyone else really likes to read. And the special skills I have are so special that even I don't know what they are.

Oh Sneaks, I Adore You

I am feeling unmotivated. Tired and unmotivated. But I'm going to the gym tonight no matter what.

I would like to buy a new pair of sneakers.

A Ode to my lovely trainers - a haiku

My lovely pink sneaks
Made by kiddie slave labor
I can't go barefoot

Zombosis

My weekend could have used a few more days.

My mom was in town to watch Sis #2's three kids. Sis #2 was going on a romantic getaway for about five days with her hubs. Mom's been kind of sick for about a week, but still came in. Mom just flew back from Minnesota where she was for a family reunion. She was sick as a dog there.

I said I'd take her two older kids to see Willie Wonka Sat afternoon. We show up and Mom looks like crap. Says that when we get back, she might need to go to a Doc in a Box to get her stomach checked out because she can't really eat.

I watch the kids, Sis #1 takes mom in. Get a phone call an hour later and it turns out Mom has appendicitis.

So they take her to this hospital to do emergency surgery. Not only do they take her appendix, but she ends up having a mass on her colon, so they remove part of that as well. They are going to biopsy the mass and she has to stay in the hospital for a week. Then she will be in Houston for two to three more weeks to recuperate.

I end up watching both sister's kids for the majority of the day Sunday - five kids under the age of seven. Exhausting, but I wanted to help out.

When parents get sick, you totally feel helpless.

On the drive in this morning, I felt so defeated. I miss Zoe beyond belief. I'm scared for my mom. And I ate like crap for the past two days (although I did get a great workout in on Saturday). Now my older sis is tied up with mom (which is ok), but Zoe's "new" bedroom is not finished and I doubt it will get that way anytime soon.

Today is a new day, but I feel so damn tired.

My birthday is Friday and I don't feel like doing a damn thing.

I think I need about 10 more hours of sleep.

I will probably say 19348102348 prayers for my mom today. She's one tough broad, but it's hard to see her get this sick.

38?

Holy shit.

One more week and then I'm 38? Already?

The hell. Where did that last year go?

:cough:

Worst. Chicken breast. Ever.

It was awesome when I grilled it the other night. Then I left it in the microwave for too long at work. It was like chicken jerky. But I forced myself to eat it because I didn't want to go buy a new one for $9 downtown.

I am ready for a badass workout tonight. I have upper body strength training. B-girl has been kicking my ass and then kicking it again.

I had the pukey stomach yesterday morning and laid up in bed all day. So no workout. I feel too much guilt to do that.

Man I miss my Zoester. So much. So so much. She will be excited about her new room though. It is cute and is really coming along.

Oh Internet, Thou Repeatest Thyself

Ok.

If you have to take a big ginourmous dump at work, do us all a huge favor and don't shit in the bathroom on your own floor.

Jesus McNutt, I had to physically plug my nose just so I could go pee in there.

Now I have to eat lunch and I feel like I'm going to hork.

Look Here Kitchen Bitch

You keep stealing my salad dressing from the fridge at work, and I'm gonna have to stomp your thieving sorry ass.

Don't mess with a woman and her organics.

Ms. Too-much-boobage-for-daytime!

I am in a kissing mood.

Alert the media, please.

I still am really really uncomfortable showing so much boob to the enginerds round this place.

They should completely and geekily appreciate it though; as it is only by the wonders of bra engineering that I can get my smallish, yet perky, tatas to jack up like this.

Tuna Tastes Like Doughnuts

I'm all self richeous in my tuna fish/fat free cottage cheese combo today.

Eat your nachos with guacamole. Gorge yourself on cheeseburgers with extra mayo. Scarf down that chocolate cake. Don't pass on the peanut butter M&Ms. Eat yourself to death.

Because some day you will be able to bounce a quarter off my ass.

Right now food to me is just fuel to my body. I'm trying to take out any connection between eating and emotion. Between eating and pleasure. To try to focus on how different foods make me feel and how it is there to help me get fit.

I know one day I will enjoy it again, but right now, there's nothing that tastes more awesome to me than fat-free yogurt with Splenda and blueberries. Or a perfectly grilled zucchini. Or the leanest of steaks cooked just the way I love them.

I feel damn good. And I don't want to change that ever again.

So if I don't change Zoe's name to George (after my Foreman grill), she's gonna end up being Splenda. Or maybe Splendashamika.

Blips

Call CNN. My lips are a shimmery goodness today.

None of that fancy schmancy Sephora stuff for me.

Such is Life

Food.
Men.
*sigh*

Natalie Dee you once again hit so close to home.

I feel like I should be mooing right about now. All this talk of food.

Where's Carol Brady?

Nice office furniture, Deb.

I also have this beaut of a table.

I wanted to take it, but was skeered off by the fiercesome warning on the top of it

I love ya, Paige.

And LK, get that foot better. We are going dancing in approximately 15 days!

Welcome to My World

Obsess about food? Who me?

Ok. Just a wee bit.

You and Me Kid

Today I was hungry. The spinach salad, packet of tuna and apple just wasn't quite cutting it.

Yeah. Neither were the protein shakes (from now on which will be known as caca shakes cos they leave that caca aftertaste in your mouth). Soy protein isolate tastes like Reeses cups. And jizz tastes like jelly.

So. What's a crafty, driven, protein indulging girl to do?

Chew sugarless gum. The same piece for 5 hours.

So here's to you gum. We've gone through hell and back. Hate to see you go. Love ya forever.

Yelloooooooow

Am I the only dork that tears up at that Lance Armstrong Nike commercial?

I was feeling rather glum and unmotivated before I had even really started my workout challenge.

Then that commercial came on.

The dude. Had cancer. Then kicked it's ass.

And here I thought getting to the gym was a bum deal because I get home so late at night.

Cancer. Kicked it's ass.

Yeah. So he probably cheated on his wife with Sheryl Crow. I dislike her for some reason, but it has nothing to do with Mr. Livestrong. Still. Maybe his wife was a crazy bitch. Who knows.

Cancer people. All in his body. Now he rides his bike for six hours a day. I feel like a stud riding for my measly 45 minutes. SIX HOURS A DAY!

I challenge you all to do anything for six hours today.

I also challenge you to buy a yellow bracelet. I'm going to get a shirt to wear to the gym. So when my fat ass is sweating away up the pseudo gymbike hills and pumping iron in testosterone hell with Feisy and B-girl, I'm going to remember that I can fucking do anything motherfuckers.

And I look good in yellow.

Design Intervention

Ok. So Sis #1 has now officially declared an intervention on my apartment. She bought Zoe a new bed and we will be ghetto-izing my one bedroom into a makeshift two bedroom.

My bed will now be in the living room (hey, it was a playroom before that, and I guess it will remain so. heh).

She said my room is basically like that line in Amadeus where the guy said he didn't like the song because it had "too many notes."

My apartment is a little spazmodic like that. Too much crap.

She wants me to dump half of it. HALF. HALF of my shit.

Actually the thought half scares me and half overjoys me.

Lots to do today.

My love goes out to Burnsey today. Your journal entry killed me.

It's All About the Moisturizer

Lotion and V8 Juice. It doesn't get any better than this.

Or more boring than this.

The Fuck?

Why do I not feel better?

No mas oatmeal. I know it's great for you, but it totally spiked my blood sugar. Four hours after eating egg beaters and plain oatmeal, I had a blood sugar reading of 190. Not good. Should be between 70 and 120 one HOUR after eating.

I'm stressing way too much. But I somehow feel like I am going to die if I don't push through all of this bad health and get serious with it. If I don't take care of myself, I'm no good to Zoe or anyone else. And I can't let it happen.

And I remember how it was before when Z and I used to head to the gym every day. She went to bed late. Very late. Like 9:30 late.

And I know I will be waking her up at 6:45 to get her to the school bus on time come August 10th. And I want her to not be half asleep and misbehave her first time at a real school. The child needs sleep. She does. And fights it with all her being. She's stubborn like me like that.

Everyone is telling me not to sweat about it. That there's basically nothing that I can really do with the worrying about it. I *know* this. But I also feel practically desperate that I can't give up on my workouts this time. I need them like I need air. I know that I won't die if I skip or slack or not work out as often as recommended.

But I also know that if I incorporate fitness back into my life, I will feel better. My health *will* improve. And I know now is the time to do it. I know I can do this.

I need to get some sleep. Sleep deprivation always makes me crazy like this.

2 Weeks Down

Two weeks.

She's been gone two weeks.

It's so quite here every night, I'm beginning to wonder if having her was just a dream. That I've been dreaming this horrible nightmare of single motherhood for three years.

Because when we decided to get pregnant, I was semi-wealthy. Making nice money. I never balanced my checkbook because I always had fundage. I had a good job and I worked really hard. I never even was on the internet and I never goofed off. I lived in a nice two bedroom apartment.

Now it takes me two weeks to earn less than I earned in one week. Now I juggle bills. And I feel guilty if I splurge on bottled water. Now I live in a cramped, over-cluttered one bedroom. Now I am overwhelmed with too much to do and not enough ability, energy, physical strength (my back) or time to do it.

Back then I was happily married. To a man that I loved. He might not have been perfect, but he was a different man then. One that loved me wholeheartedly. Who adored me and showered me with compliments and love notes. Who kissed me with passion. And I felt desired and beautiful and loved.

We wanted a child. We wanted one very much.

I never expected that from all that love and happiness would come a broken marriage. Would come so much pain. And the feelings of somehow my daughter's life is lacking because she doesn't have both her parents anymore. Now that her dad is in another state, it's even more sad for me. I never thought I'd end up being a single mom. I never thought I'd feel so much guilt. Especially since I love that child more than anything in this world. I hate to fail her.

I was healthy back then. I had just gotten my diabetes and it wasn't severe. I didn't take insulin. I worked out without worrying about injuring my back. Or how my knees feel like they are about to give out when I weight train. My body was a machine and it didn't falter.

I used to get up out of bed easily in the morning. Now it's stages of aches and pains and a desire to not get out of bed. Like all day. I feel like Nick Nolte in the first scene of North Dallas Forty. I feel 100 years old.

Now my house is quiet and my daughter is like a teenager. Her dad puts her on the phone, but she doesn't want to talk. She just says, "Hi Mommy. I love you Mommy. Bye Mommy." And the only time she wanted to have a conversation I was at the gym doing an upper body workout. I could barely hear her, but I heard the tired in her voice. I was desperate to talk to her. Now I know how her father feels when she won't talk to him on the phone when he calls here. It's agonizing.

I ache for her now. I miss her face. And the way she says Mommy. And her easy smile. And hugs. I miss her snug with me. I miss cooking with her in the kitchen. Brushing her hair at night, and reading books before bed. And watching cartoons on Saturday mornings. And holding hands and going on adventures.

And I totally don't know how on earth I'm going to do all of this when she gets back. How I'm going to get her little tired self out of bed and ready for kindergarten when I don't want to get out of bed either. The constant rushing around to school to home, now add in the gym and no fast foods.

How I'm going to get healthy and workout when I need to get her to bed earlier. The past week I haven't had dinner before 9pm. Last night I ate at 10 and worked out at 10:30.

I'm sure I'm just tired. But I have to get healthy. It's no longer an option.

I want her to be proud of me. I want to be a good role model for her.

I miss her. But I also miss me.

I know. I know. This too shall pass. But right now it feels like trying to tear down the Great Wall of China brick by brick.

And yes. I've been working out like a fiend. I started the Body for LIFE Challenge last Monday. But for me it's not just 12 weeks, it's a lifetime of getting my body healthy again.

So I have a goal and a set workout plan, but damn it's very time consuming and I know I have to do it. Because I can't take care of Zoe if I don't first take care of myself.

Ok. So go ahead and hate on me you fucking haters that read my journal. Go ahead and talk about what I write and analyze it and secretly smile at my anguish. I know you think it's funny when I fail and feel down. Fuck you.

zzzzzzzzzzz

Ok. I just fell asleep on my keyboard.

Damn, this is the longest day evah!

You Need Vacations for Weekends Like These

Had a busy and fantastic weekend. Kissed a few very sexy boys. One more than the other. Shook the hell out of my ass. Had some badass workouts and a crap workout, both that I know I kicked ass or will get my ass kicked soon as the pain settles in.

I ate well, overgrilled the damn salmon I bought, had my Sunday cheat on only one meal (mashed potatoes and a few bites of carrot cake with my grilled chicken and veggies ... mmmm), and did some awesome cooking for my meals this week.

I had oh so much fun having my body fat analyzed by a trainer at the gym. I felt like I should have brought him a present or something. It was worse than having bad sex. But I wasn't too surprised, and I know that I am kicking ass and soon enough I will see even better results and feel better as I already do after only a few weeks.

I also got to spend some time with Sis #2. I miss the hell out of her. I don't see her as often as I see #1, but when I see her, I miss her more. She makes me laugh until I need to pee, and we are totally twins.

This weekend she was weaning her youngest child off the boob. So her awesome husband spent the weekend with three under the age of seven, and put her up in a nice hotel to let the boobage stoppage happen.

So we got a lunch in (with her damn sexy friend - woo he's HOT!) and a late night dinner. Her boobs hurt like hell, but looked fantastic. How I missed out on the boob fairy in my family, I don't know, but I took a picture of hers for posterity. Thems is some nice breasteses.

She also told me to take a picture of her undereye baggage so we could compare. I think with three kids and her hectic schedule, she wins.

I always feel like I could use just one more day off after weekends like that one. Maybe I'll sneak in a work nap today somewhere!

Ouch

Did someone find my ass? I think I shook it off last night.

Oh. Wait. Here it is. It's far too large to miss.

But damn did I shake that thing for hours last night. Made up for the crap cardio workout I had yesterday morning. I bet my clothes are still soaking wet.

Not sure if I can figure out how this happened, but I ended up kissing not just one but two boys last night. And both of them actually wanted me to come home with them after the night was over. Now *thats* unusual.

Could it possibly have been the wonder of engineering that was my bra again? I want to marry a bra enginerd.

Or maybe the fact that my ass has been working out hard as fuck, I've been watching what I eat big time, and that I feel fucking awesome.

Either way. There was only one that I wanted to take up on it. And this morning ... well I'm glad I didn't.

A Tower of Power

Should I just start like this huge Protein Shake wall in my office? You know, like how the frat boys build shit out of beer cases

Whey protein tastes great. Less filling. Tastes Great. Tastes like doodie.

I will PUMP YOU UP! And you can decorate too. Silver is nouveau riche.

Where?

Do you bill your time for this?

The Evil Eye. Now with more baggage than ever! Just $29.95

What's in store with these lines? Love lines, life lines.

Thems is crying eyes. I love that Boy. I love him so. But all good things must come to an end. Ergo the eye squattage. I cried so hard I look like a prize fighter. Who knew there was so much snot in my universe?

I know I cut him loose before, but he came back sweeter than ever. But when I have a month off, you would expect a little action. Not cancelled plans at the last minute. I am on a mission and I can't have people in my life who can't get with the program right now. Especially when it's was going nowhere anyway.

It was doomed from the beginning. It's no good to fall in love with boys who plan to move away. First Dr. Egypt, then the Boy for Sex. I don't count Chef because he was an oaf and I don't think I ever loved him. I know he knew this. All it took was him reading about my love for Dr. E vs. how I treated him. He just never quite did it for me. Not even close. Gosh. It was even hard to fake that love. Exhausting.

This love. This love for the Boy ranks right up there with magic.

I'm so glad there is a door to be closed on my office. Spontaneous tears don't go well with enginerds. They can't compute.