Ms. Crabby

So, it doesn't take a genius to see I am crabby. I maintain that hormones have a hand in it. This morning I was scowling in the Dunkin Donuts line and tried to recite my mantra It's going to be a great day! You're going to work tonight and make lots of money and it will mean absolutely nothing because you will still go home to your cramped, crowded room and crawl over furniture to lie down on the equivalent of a cot for 6 hours before starting all over again.

Yeah, little off track there.

The truth is I am making progress in every area, but I'm not known for my patience and it's frustrating to work this hard and have no time to myself to relax. My body has been pushed past it's limits and I am straining to keep going.

But I will keep going.

The jeff thing gets under my skin. It's no typo that I no longer capitalize his name. I have come to feel like he doesn't deserve that honor. Talk about reaching, huh?

It occurred to me this morning that one of the things I hate the most about him is how deeply he hurt me. He told me that he used me. That he never loved me. That stung. Essentially, in doing that, he robbed me of the memories of the past year. How can I remember us ever being happy when in the back of my mind I now know it was all fake? That was possibly the cruelest blow of all.

I hate him.

Moving on.

I'm struggling to focus right now on my needs. I am working tonight at 5 and spending the afternoon at home doing nothing. Well, not nothing...Taylor and I cleaned out the truck a bit and I am about to tackle our room and laundry. It's impossible to organize in this small space, but I have to try. I also need to keep focused on my budget and the bills and the goals because ultimately they are what keep me going right now. It's the only place I can see progress.

A co-worker at the restaurant work a pedometer last night and she worked the same hours I did and clocked over 10 miles in the 5 hour shift she worked. So, I know I walked at least the same. And I am doing it 5-6 nights a week. Usually 6. That explains the continuous weight loss even though I am eating junk and high calorie foods lately. Without a usable kitchen, I eat on the run...

I weigh 159 today. The last time I weighed less than 160 was over 13 years ago. I am wearing an old pair of pants today that used to be a major part of my wardrobe 4 months ago and they are huge. They used to fit like a glove and today the only thing holding them up is my t-shirt which fits snug at the waist. I could fit a Thanksgiving Turkey in the space between my waist and the waistband (not that I've tried, you understand). I imagine if I was eating healthy and drinking water instead of living on soda and 4,000 calorie Dunkin Donuts cappucino blasts (large, covered in whipped cream) I'd be a waif...

Ironically, I don't really care about my weight. Once upon a time I would have danced a jig over this victory, but right now, I'm not focused on losing weight...it's just a side benefit. My goal used to be to weigh 135. I'm built curvy and this seems like the right goal. I am now 24 lbs away from that.

Maybe come April when I can breathe again I will rejoice. By April, I will most likely have lost it. Then I will have not only my house, but a great weight to round out my happiness?

The funny thing is that my size 10 jeans I wear to work are getting baggy. I'm not sure I am ready for a size 8 and I don't want to drop money on more jeans.

If only I could also grow a few inches. At 5'6, I still feel short.

In order to resume my positive thinking I am going to focus on what I would be doing today if I were in my house.

Of course it would be clean. Spotless, really. It's a gloomy day, so I could curl on on the couch with a good book or a movie. I'd stretch out and wrap a blanket around me and just enjoy the peace. Taylor could have a friend over and they'd be playing in her room. I'd have something fabulous cooking for lunch. The smell would be warm and would fill the house. Knowing that work was a few hours away, I'd be contemplating a bubble bath. A warm soak in a fragrant tub in my own space. Perhaps an Enya cd playing, candles flickering.

The washer and dryer would be humming with my laundry. My bed would be made with clean, fresh sheets just awaiting my return home tonight to slip into.

My mischievious kitten, Lily (Sometimes short for Demon Lily, sometimes for L'il Shit) would be scampering around. At almost 2 years old, she's still tiny and into everything. Her latest trick is to open a drawer, pull out a bag of bendable straws and scatter them across the house.

My older cat, Sasha (Fat Sasha) would be lying the way she usually does. Lazy.

It would be about time to serve lunch and I'd call the girls to come eat. I'd serve them up something while I retired back to my couch to nibble and read or watch the movie.

I'd take just a minute to look around. Everything in place. All because of my own hard work and determination.

Later, after I worked, I'd come home to see Taylor curled in her bed under her covers, dreaming. I'd set my alarm and head for bed myself, where I'd read myself to sleep without fear of the light waking anyone.

I'd shimmy out of my size 6 jeans and into a comfy nightgown and stretch out. I'd be off work the next few days and would be mentally planning out the things to do.

I'd be ready for a new day. I'd need a new goal to focus on. I wonder what that will be.

Back to the present, I think I can move forward now. I feel refocused. Just another reminder of why I blog. It keeps my head on straight.