Thick-Skinned

I love my job, I really do. I love the children I get to work with, and as cheesy as it sounds, I live for the moments when something I've been teaching a child finally clicks. In those moments, they just look so proud of themselves. Also, I usually really enjoy getting to know the families of the children as well. One of the last families I worked with before going on break started out as one of my most positive experiences to date. I was working with a brother and sister who were great, and I quickly bonded with the family. After a few sessions, the family started inviting me to stay for dinner. So I did once or twice. Their father is a slightly immature man, and a bit of a tease and a prankster. And in the last few weeks, he started to make some jokes towards me that could definitely have been perceived as fat jokes.

The first two times he said something, I was working with the kids, so I was able to kind of just pretend that I didn't hear it. But the more it happened the harder it was to keep ignoring him. It really wasn't anything major. Just some little digs here or there. For example, once he had asked me if I felt the earthquake that day, and I said "No," and he replied, "I meant the one when you came up the stairs." And in our very last session, they asked to take a picture of me, and while he was snapping the picture he said, "I don't know if my camera can take a big enough picture to fit you in it." Another time his brother just happened to stop by, and he turned to him and said, "Oh you haven't seen my wife in a long time have you?" (points to me) "She sure has gained a whole lot of weight hasn't she?” All of this bothered me of course, but not for the reasons you might assume.

It didn't bother me so much that he was making fun of my weight, I am fat, I'm aware I'm fat. I've been fat since I was 8 years old; I mean the jig is up. But yes, the fat jokes did make me want to cry, and I may have cried a few times. But mainly it bothered me because I wasn't quite sure how to handle the situation. Do I say something? Do I pretend I didn't hear? Do I just laugh it off? Mostly I was just mortified that people were around hearing these jokes. I wonder if they felt just as awkward as I did, because they never said anything. And here is the slightly ironic part, they baked me a cake to take home during our last session. You have to laugh at that.

I know when I say this I’m going to sound slightly naive, but you have to know this man to understand. I don't feel like he was saying these things to hurt my feelings. By all indications, he really liked me. I just feel that he was so clueless and so immature that he just didn't get it. And the saddest fact of all is as much as I love the children, I won't be working with them next year, because I started to dread going over to their house. It was making me so anxious that sometimes I felt like I was going to have a panic attack before I went to work. Part of me just wishes I had said something, but I'm just not that kind of person. But at the same time, maybe if he knew how much I have struggled he wouldn't have said it all.

I have had problems with food since middle school, and no I'm not bulimic nor anorexic. But I have a disorder that hasn't yet been classified by itself in the DSM-IV yet, I am a non-purging bulimic (or a binge eater). It all started when the first break with my father occurred, and when my relationship with my stepfather had deteriorated so much, that we were living in the same household and were literally never talking to each other (something that continued until after I left for college). I had always been slightly pudgy, but at that point I really started emotional eating. I ate when I was upset, I ate when I was mad, I ate when I was bored, and I just ate so I didn't have to sit around and think about things. I ate until I got to the point that I thought I would puke, but then would continue eating.

And it wasn't just that I was eating a lot, I was secretive about it. I would do things like ordering pizzas and chicken wings in the afternoon while my mother was working, eat all of it, and then hide the boxes under my bed. Once my mother went to sleep, I would throw the boxes in construction dumpsters around the neighborhood. I would eat cartoons of ice cream, and bake myself a cake that I would eat in a half hour. I kept records of what fast food restaurants I went to and on what dates, so I wasn't going to the same places so often that the person might notice. I was binging at least 3 times a week, and my whole life was centered on food. Thinking of what I would eat and when I would get to eat, etc. I would try to eat modestly in front of family and friends, although sometimes I would feel like I failed and would feel mortified. This would lead to another binging cycle after I got home. For a few years, I even skipped lunch at school, because I didn't want to be seen eating in front of my friends.

Binging only felt good when I was eating, but when I was done I was awash in guilt and shame. And the shame only made me want to eat more. It was the most powerless I've ever felt in my life. But I really didn't know how to articulate to anyone what was going on. I didn't have an eating disorder that I knew of. I wasn't throwing up, although to be honest sometimes I tried. I definitely wasn't starving myself. I just thought if I had enough willpower it would all just go away.

I know more now than I understood then. The binge eating was fueled by my anxiety, and my unhappiness with my life. Of course I wasn't happy, you don't get to that weight when you are happy. I couldn't gain any self-confidence because I was devoting so much of my life to trying to gain my dad and his family's approval. An impossible task, because they lack the ability to ever be happy for me. Secondly, the more weight I gained, the worse I felt about myself, keeping me in a cycle of shame. Also because of my issues with men in my life, I struggled to trust men. I still struggle to trust men, they still make me nervous at first, but I've come a long way (heck I made my first male friend this year, other than my husband of course). So I think the weight gain served as an effective barrier between me and men.

My problems first started to lift after I begun therapy. Binge eating was not even something I talked about in therapy really. Because like I said before, I didn't consider myself as having an eating disorder. But as I learned about myself and my anxiety lifted, I was able to control my problems a little more. However, the biggest change occurred after I got married, and I had the final fallout with my dad. For so many months after everything happened (read about that here and here), I thought I would never get passed it. I was so devastated about my father, so hurt, and I was having so many panic attacks. But then something amazing happened, members of my dad's family tried to contact me and were pretending nothing happen. And I finally got to say my peace and get in the last word. I finally feel like I get to move ahead. Somehow one of the worst things that has ever happened to me turned into one of the best.

The peace and happiness I've experienced in the last few months is amazing. I'm so in love with my husband that sometimes it physically hurts. I don't have the life I imagined, but my life has turned out so much better than I could have ever dreamed. I've finally started to get some control over my emotions and my eating habits. Do I still struggle? Of course I do. I still binge occasionally, but I try not to beat myself up over it. And I've worked/and am working to not do things in secret. And in the last year and a half I've shed a total of 47lbs so I must be doing something right.

One of my new favorite songs is, "King of Anything" by Sara Bareilles. In it she sings, "All my life I’ve tried to make everybody happy/While I just hurt and hide/Waiting for someone to tell me it’s my turn to decide/ Who cares if you disagree?/You are not me/Who made you king of anything?" And that is exactly how I feel about my life. I am now focusing on what is good for me, irregardless of what others think. So I guess what I'm trying to say is that it doesn't matter what some immature guy said to me at work. I know who I am, where I've been, and how much stronger I am now than I once was. And I want to celebrate that.

This, That, & Alex Trebek

Summer has finally come to an end. Can I get an AMEN? I'm tired of hot days with no AC, and I'm ready to get back to work. As much as whole days filled with nothing to do sounds appealing, I get bored pretty quickly. And for me, boredom is a gateway drug to depression. If you don't know, I work with a company that works with the No Child Left Behind program. I test children to find their weaknesses, and then develop materials and lesson plans for them. I really love what I do. Except that I sometimes get overly attached to the children, which makes it hard to step out of their life a few months later.

Most of the parents of the children I work with do not speak English. This can make it a little awkward, when I'm sitting in their homes & working with their kids. I wish I had taken Spanish in college. I thought it would be "cool" and unique to take French, because everyone takes Spanish. Plus, I couldn't roll an R if you put a gun to my head. Pathetically, the only thing I remember from that class is how to pronounce DVD in French (day-vay day). Now I'm sure someone who speaks fluent French is going to pop up and tell me that is wrong. So go on, try to tell me how you really pronoucne DVD, and you will just confirm that I wasted two years of my life that I CAN NEVER GET BACK. lol.

In other news, last weekend Adam and I went to a taping of Jeopardy! We love us some jeopardy, I've even wrote about the show on here before. We are a very competitive household, and we scream out the answers and keep score. Don't let the haters fool you, winning is everything. We are both equally good, but he claims that I always lose because I don't phrase my answers as questions.Pfft, that is foolishness I tell you. FOOLISHNESS. Not only did we get tickets to Jeopardy, but we found out that it was Celebrity Jeopardy. When we got there, we saw Christopher Meloni from Law & Order SVU, Joshua Molina from The West Wing & In Plain Sight, and Harry Shearer from The Simpson's. I immediately thought of Miss. Heather because I know what a big SVU fan she is. All I can say is they were all really funny and charming guys.

Of course, the most exciting thing was getting to see Alex Trebek! In between breaks, he talked to the audience and Adam got to ask him a question. I believe this is the single most amazing thing that has ever happened to Adam (forget our marriage!). He kept saying, "I talked to Alex Trebek! I talked to Alex Trebek!" When I was on the phone with someone, he would say,"Did you tell them I talked to Alex Trebek?" "Tell the people on facebook, that I talked to Alex Trebek." It was seriously cute and kind of annoying. So by the way, did you hear Adam talked to Alex Trebek?

365 days ago (give or take):

This all reminded me of a joke by Mo'nique from her Queens of Comedy tour. Mo’nique jokes about a time that she entered a club and some catty girl remarked, "I bet she’s going straight to the buffet." And Mo'nique commented, “It was true, but that bitch didn't have to say that shit!"

HAHA, that is my favorite joke. I talk about my work orientation, how awesomely serendipitous is that!

Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day

Wednesday was just one of those days that was the definition of Murphy's Law. It all started because of the rain. Now don't get me wrong, I love the rain. I have missed the rain since I moved here, so when it first started raining I wanted to take off all my clothes & run naked around the block But alas I think my neighbors have already been traumatized enough by me blasting Circus by Britney Spears non-stop (Shut up, I can't help that I love that song). So I didn't do that (my reputation thanked me for it) and then I realized I still had to take the dog out for a walk.

Do you think Sarah picked the the closet patch of grass to do her business? Of Course Not! She picked the one three blocks up. I had an umbrella but the wind broke it.. So by the time we got back to the house I'm soaked, and the heat is broken so I'm freezing. And that oh so appetizing wet dog smell is radiating from every room in our cottage. But eventually I got warm, dressed, and ready for work.

I was going to do an end test for a family that I had never met before, and I wasn't familiar with the neighborhood. And I was given the wrong address, right street, but wrong number. And did I mention it was raining and that I had no umbrella. Oh I did? Sorry. So I went to the address and the people looked at me like I had grown two heads, and told me they had never heard of me. Bummer. So I called the woman I was supposed to be meeting, and she barely speaks English, and bellows 321B!

The 321 apartments weren't really labeled, so I went to every apartment in that building, and guess who doesn't live in any of them. My student. None of them spoke English, but were all unfailingly kind, but eventually they were giving me that same look Sarah does when I'm talking to her. The one that seems to says, "Hasn't the blonde figured out I don't speak English yet?" I don't know what that lady was thinking. I felt, looked, & smelled like a drowned moose. Eventually I heard a lady yelling, "BRITT-TANI, BRITT-TANI!" I thought why is that crazy lady yelling Britt-tani? Then I realized that is my name if you say it phonetically. She lived at 435B.....Umm how is that anything like 321B? Did she have amnesia? Was she getting kicks out of my drowned moose look? Did she fall down the stairs? All kidding aside, they were a very nice family.

I finished the test and headed to Target to get the ingredients I needed to whip up Adam a spaghetti dinner. The next day I was dropping him off at the airport, he was going home for the holidays (I'm joining him on Christmas Eve). So I just wanted to send him off with a good dinner. But with the rain, and the flooded roads it took me a full hour to get to Target. Tres Annoying. When I stepped out of the car, I plummited into at least a foot of water. There is nothing I hate more than wet shoes and socks. Then those wet shoes & socks, made me fall in Target just like a ungraceful hippo. Pride Smarting...much?

Then I realized that Targets out here don't do groceries. Great just great. So I decided I'd get what I could, and then just pull some cash out and stop at the grocery store by the house. I also grabbed some candy to make me feel better. It would take another paragraph to explain why I had only one check with me, but that is all I had. So I first asked the cashier if I could write a check over the amount I paid, and she said sure. Turns out you couldn't, and then I had no choice but to surrender my purchases, though I think I only really cared about leaving my precious orange slices behind.

I waded back to the car, and had to take Sarah out for the second time. Where we must have walked a half mile, STILL in the rain. Adam came home and I just started boohooing, and I'm not the boohooing type. But I boohooed so much that there was no teenage girl in America that could be boohooing at that moment, because i sucked up all the tears. Then he went to the store and bought the dinner for me, and I was fine..

But come on doesn't this story make you feel bad for me? No? Not a little bit? OK, so it wasn't that bad. But in the moment, it felt like it.





Song of The Day: Short Skirt, Long Jacket by Cake.

I'm a Good Girl, I Am

I wouldn't say that I am an immature person, I mean I don't find ALL fart jokes funny, just most of them. And sex is not something I shy away from, or talk about constantly either. But I admit the word penis can be slightly fun to say, so say it with me now-PENIS, PENIS, PENIS. But even with all the sophistication that my Southern blood & raising is supposed to have given me (ha), today I was confronted with a situation that I didn't quite know how to handle. I was tutoring one of my pupils, let’s call her Nicole. Nicole and I were doing an activity which involved taking a word, crossing out the vowel, and making a new word. (For example-bat could become bet).

She was struggling a little bit, so if she couldn't get it on the first try, I would have her simply guess a random vowel. If it was wrong, I would sound out the make believe word, and she would laugh and laugh. (Apparently I was a comedian in a past life). Things were going swimmingly until we got to the word dock. I felt sure she could solve this one, I started thinking of all the words that could be made-deck, duck, and ...... I started to hope that she wouldn't write that one word, but when I glanced down at the paper there it was-dick.

Nicole was looking at me, waiting for me to tell her if it was right or wrong. I was frozen & wondering how to handle this situation. I was sitting in a room with her entire family, who might giggle when I said it, or misinterpret the situation. I also knew I could just be over reacting, since I am often living on the edge of crazy, and one sudden movement might throw me over that cliff. In the end, I just told her it wasn't correct, and I didn't quite know how to pronounce it.

By my own admittance, this probably wasn't the best way to deal with the situation. As Adam pointed out, I could have just said it was, "Dick" like the name. But I just didn't think of that. I do want to mention that the two words that came immediately after dick were balls & nuts. Coincidence? You decide.

The Dark & The Dawn

My new job, tutoring, is going really well. I'm shocked by how much I enjoy it. Right now I'm working with two little girls both 6 years old. They are both super sweet and eager learners. In both families only the children speak English, and I have to communicate through them to kids to talk to the parents. But the other day one girl handed me a note she had written down from her mother that said, “Thanks for all the Kind Attention”. That made my day.

But I did slightly embarrass myself recently. When I walked into my student’s apartment for the first time, I noticed all of the shoes were piled at the door. I assumed this was because they did not allow people to walk in their shoes around the apartment (it was pristine). So to be respectful, I took mine off too. I continued to do this every time I came. Now that the girl I’m working with is not so shy, she asked me, “Do you always walk into houses with your feet?” (Meaning do I always take my shoes off first, cute phrasing through). These people must have thought I was insane, or they explained it away as, “She really is a Southerner.” Yes I was just represented the homeland. I wanted to say, “Yes I typically go places with my feet, unless they will just get in the way.” But I didn’t, that might have flown over her head.

The truth is that while I had been over the moon happy to be living with Adam, having moments so perfect that I knew this was where I was supposed to be, the never-ending job search broke me. Never having had a lot of confidence in myself anyway, it made me feel worthless and hopeless. And every week when Sunday rolled around I would be beside myself. I couldn't imagine another week of job searching, and I would spend several hours uncontrollably sobbing. At first crying about being jobless, and then for how stupid it was that I was even crying. I just felt like I was being so gosh darn dramatic. I had sunk into a mini-depression, not bad enough to contemplate hurting myself like in the past, but bad enough that I had no energy or want to even get out of bed.

Friends & family would ask me if I was happy here, and I would say, "Of course." Because to explain how I felt would be too hard and too complicated. How can you put into words that you are completely happy and miserable at the same time? If I let one thing slip out about how I was really feeling, the entire glass facade would shatter, and I would be a hopeless mess. But now that I feel better I’m enjoying my days, even if I don’t do much but clean the house. I’m watching tons of documentaries from netflix: Queen Elizabeth, Titanic, and Jack the Ripper (you name it, I’m watching). I’m just all around happy, and it’s nice to be happy. Truly honestly, not just faking it happy.

Just A Tiny Bit Aggressive

This is from Passiveaggressivenotes.com. Which is one of my fave sites, mainly because I love post-its and I am very passive aggressive at times (I can't help it). This one really made me laugh. Simply because it reminded me of all the times when I was working at Target, that I would sit on the john for absolutely no reason. I just had to get away for crazy customers & get off my aching feet.

It's Not Delivery, It’s Insecurity!

I am incapable of getting ready for anything where I have to look nice, without making a HUGE mess. I had an interview the other day and there were discarded tops and skirts in every room, make-up splattered around the kitchen sink, and my hair dryer was on the bathroom floor. If you had walked into the bedroom that morning, you might have thought Jesus had returned and you had been left behind. I did get the job, and I will be tutoring students in their homes, as well as working with the No Child Left Behind Program in school districts. This is the best news, because if I hadn't gotten a job soon I would have had to start giving up other luxuries like food.
Tonight all the new tutors were sitting at orientation, going over the information about our new job, and our boss was kind enough to order us three Papa John's Pizzas. Papa John's is my favorite, all that thick crust and garlic sauce. I haven't been eating very well on our tight budget, and even though I had managed to muster together enough cash for some Jack in the Box tacos afterwards, I knew that if I had the pizza for dinner, I could eat the tacos tomorrow. That is two days of eating good BACK TO BACK. Nirvana Found.
But something happened that I have observed many times, it is the "I refuse to be the first to eat because that might make me seem like I actually enjoy eating" phenomenon. And although I shouldn’t be, I too am inflicted. I'm chubby, but honestly I'm ok with being chubby (on most days). But no one else in the room was chubby, so I didn't want to go first because I felt that my coworkers would judge that action because I am fat. This all reminded me of a joke by Mo'nique from her Queens of Comedy tour. Mo’nique jokes about a time that she entered a club and some catty girl remarked, "I bet she’s going straight to the buffet." And Mo'nique commented, “It was true, but that bitch didn't have to say that shit!"
So everyone is just sitting there, and you can tell they are thinking about the pizza. The smell is overwhelming, and everyone is wondering if they should really let three whole pizzas go to waste. My stomach is rumbling louder than a trash compactor, because I hadn't eaten hardly anything all day. Finally a guy walks in late and grabs some pizza (guys never care about that kind of stuff). But even after he sat down the girls would still not go for it. Finally realizing I would regret not eating that pizza for the REST OF MY LIFE; I got up and made a beeline for the pizza. You could almost feel the internal sighs of relief. Immediately everyone rushed to the table, and no pizza was left uneaten on my watch.

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Last night was wonderful. Last night there was dinner at Friday's, two hours of leisurely thumbing through books and guilty pleasure magazines at Barnes & Noble, and a midnight showing of The Dark Knight. Wonderful by the way, the Joker was the scariest villain I've ever seen (rest in peace, Heath Ledger). But today was much different.

Today was finally getting a hold of my "employer" after a few days of e-mails and ignored phone calls. Three weeks ago, I attended orientation and was told I would be contacted soon to begin working. A job I was really excited about and was well qualified to do. A week went by and I didn't think much of not hearing from them, two weeks went by and I started to get a little bit ancy, and this week I felt it was important for me to touch base. Call it women's intuition or just plain old paranoia but I had a sneaky suspicion that things weren't on the up and up.

After a few e-mails and phone messages, I finally got in touch with one of my bosses today only to be given a thinly-veiled brush off. Basically they told me they did not have any work for me now and didn't know when they would. This is all fine and dandy, but don't tell me I have a job and bring me into orientation, just to drop me and not tell me. We are struggling for money as it is, and my time is valuable. I got calls for other interviews in the last few weeks, but I was so happy with the job I had landed, I turned them down. Was I a fool?.

When I called Adam to tell him the news I thought I was holding it together pretty well, but at the caring tone of his voice I fell to pieces. I hate when that happens, it was really more out of anger then sadness. I was owed a phone call. While I am very angry, to be completely honest, it slightly plays into my occasional feelings of inadequacy. Logically I know I'm skilled. I have a college degree, decent work experience, killer parallel parking skills, and no one has ever beat me in thumb wrestling. It's just disappointing to have to start at square one all over again. More long nights submitting resumes, more nerve-wracking interviews, and more waiting.

Tomorrow I will be more optimistic and ready to start all over again, but tonight I want to take my free "life after college" book given to me on graduation day and watch it go up in flames.

WorryWarter

To celebrate my new job Adam took me out to eat at Famous Dave's in downtown Long Beach last Thursday. Which by the way I highly recommend, the food was really good and I finally got my beloved sweet tea. While there my boss called to tell me the things I would need to bring to orientation: a copy of my license, proof of car insurance, and my social security card. The first two I knew I had, because I live in chronic fear of being pulled over and not being able to locate these things. Mainly because the first time I ever got pulled over, I handed over my health insurance card instead of my car insurance and felt totally moronic. Although Adam once got pulled over and handed the man his debit card so I guess he finishes first in the feeling idiotic race with that one. So even though I knew where the first two items were, I didn't think I could locate my SS card since the move.

I immediately went into panic mood, because I find it impossible to keep my shit together like ever. When we got home I ripped through the house like a tornado. Flying through papers, files, and documents screeching, "They are going to FIRE ME" and "They are going to think I'm FLAKY!" I had Adam call my mother, to find out if she had even given me my social security card. Which she had, and I knew she had and I later found out that he had whispered to her in a conspiratorial tones, "What should I do? She is totally freaking out...." She should have just said, "That is just the way of the E**** women..." She knows I didn't learn to jump to end of the world scenarios on my own. Oh no it was after years of intense study and mother mimicry.

I figured they needed my SS card to prove citizenship. So I decided the only thing I could do was take my birth certificate and tax return, and hope that would be enough. But that didn't stop me from having butterflies in my stomach for over 24 hours. I felt like a kid who was going to school without my homework. And I never went to school without my homework.

When I finally got to orientation and explained the situation, my boss just shrugged and said, "Just get it to me when you can." And it was over just like that, they didn't even give it a second thought. I had spent so much time worrying, and they really didn't care. It's funny, I almost felt gypped. Didn't all my worrying deserve a bigger response? So I guess for me it was a lose-lose situation. Sure I didn’t get in trouble, but I didn’t get that payoff from worrying either that tells me, “See girlfriend your craziness was so justified!"

Trying to Earn My White Chocolate Mocha

I had an interview yesterday. My third since the whole, "You've have graduated, Now go out into the world, be fruitful and get employed," speech my mother gave me. This speech was given to me on the fateful day that I donned that funny little hat and left Mississippi in the dust. Or did she say get employed and eat lots of fruit? I shall never be completely sure, but my mother is one to often worry about my Vitamin C. levels. Seriously she thinks Orange Juice is the answer to every problem.

Interviews make me pretty nervous. But to be fair, I have to admit that most things make me nervous. The worry, planning, and preparation always begins the night before. I put on a mini-fashion show for Adam, parading out every combination in my closet. Begging him to tell me which one I should wear. And him asking such questions like, "Do those shoes go with that outfit?" And me replying, "Yes honey, brown shoes do match a brown skirt." And then I wonder what it would take to get the Queer Eye for The Straight Guys to visit him.

The next morning I wake up at least five hours in advance, so I can spend 45 minutes on my hair, make-up, and dress. I then spend the next few hours watching the clock like it will self-destruct in 30 seconds. I leave 30 minutes before I actually need to so I can make it there at least an hour early (paranoia). I allot this extra time so I won't be delayed by traffic, stop lights, or alien invasions.

Yesterday really wasn't any different than any other interview. But this time the lady had asked me to meet her at Starbucks. I confess that even though I shouldn't, I happen to love Starbuck's overpriced coffee. An addiction I got from my mother. In fact, anytime one of us gets anything at Starbucks, we have to text each other to make the other jealous. But sadly, I only had $1.50 sitting in my bank account and could not even afford a small cup of coffee.

I got there 45 minutes early and waited. The baristas kept asking me if I needed anything, I’m sure they wondered why I was there. At exactly 3:45, I felt my phone vibrating. I usually do not bring my cell phone inside but this time I did, and had hid it in my pocket. Thank Goodness! And it was the company; I immediately knew this must not be good. She told me she was sitting at Starbuck's, and was wondering if I was going to show up for the interview.

At this point my heart is racing as I gingerly reply, "Um, I'm at Starbucks." She actually sent me to the wrong Starbucks (there is three on the same street). I was so afraid that this would make me seem flighty. But she said it was her fault, and she figured out where I was and met me there. This put me on edge of course. The girl behind me who had heard my conversation started talking to me. When she told me this could be bad, all I could say was, "I know girl, I know."

Once she got there, the interview went fine. It was probably the easiest interview I've ever had. I have high hopes for getting this job, but I won't know till Thursday or Friday. And it's the waiting that bites.

Oh The Places You'll Go!

I ended up not attending the job interview that I had scheduled for yesterday. This may seem a little rash when I so DESPERATLY need a job. But….I don’t know the area around here, and I didn’t realize how far away it was. It would be an hour commute to and from without any traffic, and that’s a lot of time and a lot of gas.

I also found out it was more of a sales job. It’s not that I’m not interested in this, because right now I’m interested in almost anything as long as it doesn’t involve me having to hide from the police. Although it may not show on here, I do have social & general anxiety disorder. My mom has a lot of anxiety, as does my grandmother. In addition, my mom had a very high stress pregnancy when she was carrying me. I've read lots of studies that show a correlation between high stress pregnancies and the development of anxiety in children. So I guess I got it honest.

But because of this, having to try and sell things every day would leave me in a constant state of anxiety (worse than I am now). I don’t want to live that way. And if I didn’t sell anything, I might just take it personally.

I just hope I made the right choice. I’ll probably wonder about that choice until I get a job. Which I hope is really soon because….(I interrupt this daily broadcast to announce) the COTTAGE is now officially ours!


We can move in June 1st, but we don’t know if we will right away. Because we are going to slowly start moving our stuff over there. Plus we still have 30 days in the place we are living now.

So my game plan is this-if I don’t have a job midway through June, I’m just going to take anything and continue looking for more gainful employment.

I’m just trying to keep positive and not worry about getting a job, but that is really hard for me. And I freak out about every other day. But that’s just crazy, sweet, nervous me.

The Job Fair Adventure

In my quest to make sure I don't end up holding a sign that says will work for food, money, or a chance to see Jonathan Rhys Meyers naked, I decided to attend a job fair today. To say I'm nervous does not even begin to cover it. I guess interviews are nerve wracking to everyone but for someone afflicted with the crazies like me, the fear is multiplied 10x.

I had gotten a killer dress the other day from Lane Bryant for such an event. And I have to show a picture of this dress, because I've become such a clothes ho' since I've embraced my curves. Because fabulous and fat is no longer an oxymoron.

But because my stuff from the move is still a mess, I could not find a matching pair of shoes. So extra early this morning I headed to target in my dress, make-up, and PINK flip flops. And let me tell you, it takes a special kind of person to rock that outfit, and let me assure you I AM THAT KIND OF PERSON.

I picked out a cute pair of black flats that were on clearance, and I'm so happy that flats are in style right now. Because while I love high heel shoes, and have had some pairs that I would have married if it were legal, I'm about as graceful as the jolly green giant. Face planting it a few times at church is not so bad, but face planting it at a Job fair might make the employer feel you are not worth the insurance risk.

After I checked out at Target, I took the shoes into the bathroom to put them on. I literally had to gnaw off the strings holding them together with my teeth. Everyone who walked in gave me funny looks, and I'm sure they thought I was stealing them. But I finally got them on, and decided I was looking smoking hot.

It took me a while to find the Holiday Inn, and to be honest I thought maybe if I couldn't find it, I wouldn't have to do this. And that would be fine with me. But I finally found it, and I was shocked by the number of people who were there. And to be completely honest, I walked out once, and decided I would just tell people I went. They wouldn't know the difference. But I knew if I didn't give it a whirl, I would never forgive myself.

So while waiting in line I kept reciting thw mantra. "They Can't Eat You. " This is something that my grandmother told my mother as a child, and my then mother told me. Yes it's absurd and a little silly but it's true. No matter what happens, they can't eat you.

None of the jobs were really up my alley. Mostly insurance companies. But I'm glad I went because I needed to push myself. When I got home, there were two messages about job interviews. I won't say the name of the companies, because if I got the job with them, I wouldn't ever want to risk getting dooced.

The woman I talked to seemed nice, and was enthralled by my southern accent. I have to police myself when talking to her, because when someone comments on my accent it tends to get more pronounced. I guess subconsciously I just feel l like I have to represent and give them a show. So when they go home the can say, "Everything they say about those Southern Girls? It's absolutely true, dag gummit."

So I set up an interview with one of the companies for tomorrow. It's about 22 miles from here so I'm going to leave extra, extra early. Because right now I'm a terrified of the freeways. Well, at least I'm terrified of merging. I know I'm going to have to get used to this, but until then I'm pretending these new finagled road DON'T exist.