Mustaches. I have one. I wish I were Greek, because then at least I would have an excuse. Maybe I should change my name to Zorba. My husband's facial hair grows so slowly, I could plant a tree and be eating fruit from it before he could grow a mustache. I guess our son is going to have to learn how to shave from me. I say no more.

I have, however, decided to let my leg hair grow out in the winter. I live in a cold, snowy area. Imagine if I slid off the road into a snow bank and was caught there for several days. They might report later that the only thing that kept me from going into hypothermia was my intensely long leg hair.

My mom used to tell me that my eyebrows reminded her of an angel's wings. Lately I have been finding long wiry hairs that do not look like they belong to an angel at all! In fact, I think they may belong to Ed Asner. I'll have to let him know I found some of his eyebrow hairs.

The coup de grace (death blow intended to end the suffering of a wounded creature) to all of this is that my hair is beginning to thin on my head, front and center. It's cruel.

Monumental

Let's chat. Why do our bodies go to pot in our later years? Everything sags and droops. My sister always likes to point out to me that even our ears and nose continue to grow. Great...just what I want to know. My nose is already long enough to pass as a ski slope. It will probably look like I have my own personal Eiffel Tower hanging off of my face when I'm 80. I was at a plastic surgeon's office trying to see what I could do to save myself. I later saw his notes about my breasts. He said they were pendulous. I had visions of a clock pendulum in my head. So now I will have a nose like the Eiffel Tower and breasts that could be the inner workings of Big Ben. I'm a monument.

Number 10!

I went to the IRS office recently. Oh great...here goes my entire day, right? I needed something "official" that reported how much money I owed the IRS for an attorney that was helping me with a legal matter. What a lovely way to spend my afternoon. It would have been easier to tell my attorney that I owed somewhere around...oh, let's just make it easy and say my first-born son. So I walked in, and there was one man being helped at the counter. That's it. I was amazed at my good fortune. The IRS worker (who was the only worker there) was helping this other customer, and as soon as I entered, he ordered me to take a number and have a seat. He was very bossy about it. I did as commanded. I was number 10. I waited about 5 minutes until this other customer finished his inquiry. I could have told him what he needed to know...just send half your money in; it would have saved him his time. I stood up in anticipation of my turn with the government, when to my utter astonishment, the IRS worker looked up and scanned the room like he was trying to spot someone in particular. Right...like the room was packed with eager tax payers. He then burst out with, "Number 10?, number 10!" Was he kidding me? I was the only person in the room. Was this IRS humor? I don't know. I wanted to laugh out loud, only I was afraid he would put some sort of mockery penalty on my already sky-high bill. I actually looked down at my little paper to make sure he was addressing me. It was indeed my turn. He processed my request quickly (and happily I noticed), and I was on my way. On my way out, he asked me to fill out a survey about how the service was. It was one of those "fill in the bubble" things, like you do in school. It had to be filled out with a pencil, but I didn't have one on me, and he wasn't offering any from his very well-stocked pencil cup. Cheapskates. I give them half my money, but they can't loan me the lead from a pencil to fill out a survey on how well they are serving me. Tell ya what, if this were any other store, I think I would ask for my money back!

Yeah, about the gym....

It's a good thing I don't have any followers besides my sisters, because if anyone had been holding their breath until the next entry, they'd be dead.

I'd like to say I have been busy being thin, but let's cut right to the chase. As my fingers are tickling the keys on this Sunday morn at 8:17 in the a.m., I am eating a Hershey's Hug. I am the same me I was several blogs (and many months) ago. If there's one thing I'm not, it's a quitter...someone needs to eat these candies, who else is going to do it? You? Let me be frank. Mmmmmm, hot dogs. Oh wait, not that kind of frank. Let me be honest with you. I have worked really hard to create this body, and I'm keeping it.

My sisters and I were at the mall recently. We passed by a kiosk that featured a tea you drink and magically become thin. There was the most energetic, perky, (and yes..thin) sales girl manning the booth, and she optimistically singled me out as her next "project." She smiled a wide, tooth-whitened grin and asked me if I would like to sample the brew. She looked so hopeful, so confident in her offer. Imagine her shock when I answered, "No thanks, I like being fat." Seriously. That is what I said. The look on her face was priceless. It should have been one of those MasterCard ads.

I'm glad we got the whole exercising thing out of the way. Now we can focus on other things. Besides, it's time for me to make breakfast. I'm serving "skillets." A ginormous serving of hash browns covered with omelette-style eggs, a layer of sausage, and all this crowned with country gravy. I can feel my arteries hardening as I eat. I'm so in tune with my body.

Happy Birthday To Me!

Yep... I turned 39 today. It's one of those weird ages. Nothing happens to you at 39. Turning 40 is big, but 39...nothing. Next year will mark my entry into the age where I will be considered old. You know...the age where you are released from hostage situations first, when kidnappers aren't interested in you. We've all heard the jokes. I suppose I should be really careful this year as not to expose myself to any of these dangers, because apparently I may not make it out. I wonder what it is that will happen to me on the day that I turn 40 that will make it obvious to terrorists or kidnappers that I am no longer of interest.

I did not work out today, but I'm sure we all know that there is no sweating or running on your birthday. I actually have a moral imperative that I never run unless I am being chased; which to date, hasn't ever happened. So, I didn't work out. It's not my place to break the rules about birthday sweating. However, I will be back at it tomorrow. I have actually felt pretty good since I started working out. Don't get me wrong...I'm still the bull in the china closet at the gym. I did get some new work out clothes today for my birthday, so maybe, just maybe, I will blend in a little.

I have in fact, lost a few pounds. I am prepared to see these numbers go up tomorrow; I splurged at dinner tonight. My family took me out and I feasted on fettucine alfredo with chicken. Isn't that a fat free dish? However, I will strictly follow the rules regarding the weigh in. In case anyone out there does not know, there are rules. You must get weighed in the morning, after you get up, after you pee, and you must be naked. Girls will remove anything that might register on the scale....earrings or other jewelry, makeup...although that should have been done the night before, nail polish, any temporary tattoos, and maybe even a quick leg shave time permitting.

Overall, it has been a great day. I was sung to, taken out to dinner, pampered all day; even the baby was good today! Thanks to my family for all the birthday wishes. I got my favorite cake (no, I did not request rice cakes,)which is white cake with chocolate frosting, and my son helped me blow out the candle. There was only one candle; I guess my sister thought that 39 candles would be too many! Although, she could have just asked the local fire department to be on hand. Maybe I just need to get those "number" candles from now on. Otherwise I might pass out blowing out all those candles.

Happy Wishes...Lady R

Progress

I made it through another workout today. I got there all giddy with excitement until I saw who was there today. Did I mention the gym is at my husband's work? They have a full-service gym inside the building, with a personal trainer that is there full-time. The gym is free to employees and their families. This is why I go...free is a really good price for me. Plus, my husband has been trying to talk me into going. Anywho...I get there and find that it's skinny person day. I guess I didn't get the memo. There they were, all decked out in their fancy workout clothes, dripping sexiness all over the place. I have never seen so many small, well-formed buttocks in the same room at the same time. Of course, I had on an old, completely stretched out t-shirt and some cotton pants with socks that didn't match and my favorite pair of shoes that I refuse to give up but are more full of holes than a wheel of Swiss cheese. Ah well...such is life. The trainer greeted me and then informed me that she wanted me to do 30 minutes straight on the elliptical machine today. I nearly fainted. I did it though. Again, I left feeling higher than Amy Winehouse after a weekend-long party.

I think there is something wrong with my scale...it says I have dropped a few libbies. Could it be? Hmmmm, we will find out.

Okay, my bed is calling to me. All this working out is making me tired. It's my birthday tomorrow; I will be 39. I know...it's an exciting age. Maybe I should request rice cakes instead of cake-cake. Probably not.

Zippo

I really don't have much to say for myself today. I was going to go for workout day #2, but it turned out that just wasn't in the cards. Baby was awfully crabby, hubby was tired, blah, blah, blah. It's all good...my entire right leg from my hip to my ankle is one giant hurt. Are we sure that exercising is good for us? I know, I know, it's just that my right leg is really protesting. How sad that one day of treadmill and elliptical machines completely did me in. Hmmmm. No worries, I still have dreams of wearing a belt again one day.

I painted my fingernails today, a lovely shade of pink. I had to try several other colors first, and decided they all made me look like my fingers were bleeding or I fell into a vat of glitter. By the by...the glittery paint is quite difficult to remove; I think I used about 50 cotton balls and an entire bottle of remover. The smell from the remover gave me a nice high though; I imagined I was at a remote spa, having a luxurious massage while being fed strawberries with cream, all done by Gerard Butler, in his "300" costume of course. I highly recommend this experience; I may have to remove my polish and start over again tomorrow. Who says my life isn't adventurous?

Still me......Lady R

A Start

I never thought I would do one of these...blog things. I am perfectly willing to accept the fact that no one is going to read any of this...the URL is more than a little misleading. My life is not adventurous, not by the world's standards anyhow. I am doing this for me. It's a pretty sad commentary on your life if it doesn't seem like an adventure to yourself, and my life has been pretty boring for a long time.

I think I kind of lost myself, forgot who I really was and the things I liked to do. I got to a point recently where I realized that I didn't even recognize myself anymore. I need to reinvent myself in a BIG way. I know I can't go back in time to a place where I was happy, and I wouldn't want to do that anyway. It would be quite a discredit to myself to do that. Surely there has been some good stuff in my life over the last 15 years; I just can't seem to recall it.

I've been pretty depressed for a long time. I don't really show (or feel) any pride in myself and it shows. I hardly ever put on makeup anymore, my clothes are fodder for an episode of What Not To Wear, my hair is rather like a sad hat, and I have literally become twice the woman I was 15 years ago...weight-wise. Time to change. I am tired of this girl; I don't really like her all that much. So.....

I have put makeup on several days lately and it feels pretty good. I remember a time when I never went without mascara, not in a freakish way; I'm sure there were days when I went out of the house "undone." I am going to have to retrain my eyelashes, as they have forgotten what they are supposed to do, and I think I'll have to break down and buy some decent base to cover my oh-so-uneven skin. So far, so good.

The hair is going to have to come in time, I'm not really sure what to do with it. Maybe gray, flat hair will come into style sometime soon and then I won't have to worry. Not likely. I'll work on it.

Next item of business...the weight. Ugh. I worked out today. I went to the gym and had a personal trainer set me up. Luckily, I was positioned in a spot where I couldn't see myself in the amply mirrored room, probably where they put all the first day-ers. The first 15 minutes were breezy, the next 5 were difficult, the next 5 were nighmarish, the next 5 were downright hellish, and the last 5 minutes came from sheer willpower not to look like a complete loser on the first day. However, I left feeling 10 pounds lighter already, full of endorphines and happy thoughts of skinny jeans and what it's like to wear a belt. Then I got home. I sat down for a few and then foolishly tried to get up. Ha. My knees were totally uncooperative and I couldn't feel my butt. I told my trainer that barring an act of God I would come again tomorrow, and I am beginning to regret that a little. No, not really. I am going to go again, let's see how this plays out. I am really looking forward to finding myself under all this extra skin.

Onward and upward!

Lady R