Monday, June 27, 2011


It's 5:30am, which means that I should be in bed (or if I were extremely more awesome than I am, waking up) but I'm not. I'm awake, and I have been since sometime in the late morning/early afternoon of yesterday.

The way I feel about my body - oh we're going there - fluctuates extremely. It's a combination of very little positive influence and bad health, and it's equally my fault and probably partly because of the way I was raised. I grew up with the "eat everything on your plate" motto, as well as good ol' hearty homestyle cooking, which frequently meant lots of fats and proteins and very little else. Most vegetables came out of cans, green beans and corn usually, which aren't even excellent vegetables to have. And now that I know about nutrition and diet and all that, looking at my favorite meals from my childhood is terrifying. Why was I eating all those things in my formative years? And to top it off, why wasn't I really being taught about portion-sizing, and balancing your calorie intake with exercise? It's awful, really.

So, basically, I've never been at a healthy weight or in a place where I've felt comfortable with myself. I hid in baggy clothing and binged on feel-good foods, all that cliché life story goodness we always hear about. And at 5'0" tall, it's been pretty disastrous; as I've told anyone who would listen, for maintaining my weight, as in not losing or gaining, I have to consume about 1,000 calories a day. Period.

Have you ever tried that? It's sort of ridiculous and hard, when you've been eating whatever, whenever your whole life.

I've gained and lost weight before, sure. A little bit of dieting, a little bit of elliptical here and there, and I can lose 5 or 10 lbs in a few weeks with a little bit of effort. At my worst, I was almost 140 lbs. Which might not seem like a lot to the average 5'6" person, but for me, that's overweight if not bordering obesity.

I never weighed myself as a teenager - never had a scale in my household - so when I see pictures of me where I'm actually not THAT bad, I have no idea what THAT actually IS.

So right now I'm ~118 (still no scale, but the chiropractor has one) and I'm unbelievably proud of myself. I'm wearing tank tops and shorts, which, if you know me, is BOGUS. One of my main characteristics for my entire young adult life was that I am always wearing jeans and a sweater, The End. This is my happy place, and I'm not even where I want to be yet.

Let me pause to state that for a lassie my size, 100 lbs is normal and healthy and not even underweight.

So why am I up so early?

1. I was dancing to music with some dumbbells for about a half hour, which, when done correctly (I know, correctly, who am I fooling) is pretty good for toning, I swear.

2. I made a purchase on Amazon, and I'm so happy I came here to word barf about it.

There's this lady named Tracy Anderson. She's a trainer. Her most famous client is Gwyneth Paltrow. This lovely lady happens to have some books and DVDs that I've wanted for a while.
I got a gift card for my graduation from an aunt and uncle.

Spoiler: I bought her book. And I bought another book for reading but that's not the point.

SO. I am excited. It's a workout and diet plan that is tailored for women who want petite and slim bodies, and Tracy herself is my size, so as stupid as it is, I trust her more than Tony Horton of P90X, which I've tried, and hurt myself on.

With any luck, I'll become the best Melissa I've ever been in my entire life, and manage to keep it that way. It would certainly turn my summer around.



Wednesday, June 22, 2011


Even though it smacks of Dear Diary, I'mma gonna share my day anyway.

I think I postponed waking up until an ungodly, unmentionable hour just so that I wouldn't have to spend the day worrying. Because I have been spending the remainder of the day worrying like a maniac. Waiting for a phone call, waiting for an email. Waiting seems to be my only game these days.

Waiting for employers, friends, even -oh my- boys. It's terrible, and not very proactive, but I can't imagine what else I could possibly do. I can't change too much, I've spoken my piece... so all that's left to do is wait, right?

I need something to occupy my time. Anything. I would take three part-time jobs if I could only just find one. I hate doing nothing, I hate being this listless and useless. I hate feeling like a waste of spacing taking up oxygen.

So in the meantime, I read, paint, and waste time exercising, because at least that's wasting time in a positive sort of way.

Oh, and writing here in this blog no one reads. Most excellent.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Oh. My.

How terribly embarrassing. I think I've had this blog for about 2 years? Possibly 3. Oh yes, 3 years. Silly me.

I can't figure out what you're for, blog. I confess that my life seems far too boring to commit to the internet for perusing. So then, creative writing!

Then 10 posts later I become paranoid that someone, somewhere, is going to steal what I wrote. I deleted quite a few posts of my original writing from this baby. Now it's safely on my laptop, where only I can look at it. But that seems wrong too.

Most of the blogs that I read are cooking. Cooking blogs suck me in like nothing else can, because oh goodness do I love to cook and bake and generally waste time in the kitchen. Who needs a watch when the stove has a clock, eh? That's me, single-handedly pulling a fast one on feminism.

I could crack jokes. But that seems like a waste of blog space.

Then again, so is this rambling.

But I'm going to hit the publish button anyway. Because it's my blog, and because I can.

So there.