Things I shouldn't admit: Tummy pillow

I have been fat all my life.  I've gotten quit used to finding ways to tuck, set, hide, and otherwise manage my stomach rolls.

Last night, I realized that I will not be able to reach past my toes from a seated position until I lose the lower tummy pillow.  I can only bend over so far before my stomach hits my thighs like a stopper.

Damn you, tummy pillow.

The splits

I stretch every night while watching TV.  My goal is to be able to do a complete straddle in a year's time.

Why?  I have no fucking idea. 

I think it is related to turning 35 and remembering that the last time I thought I was really awesome was when I was 6.  At six years old, my sister was taking dance and tried to do the splits.  Her cool older friends would come over and they would stretch and try all afternoon.  I quickly learned that doing a full straddle and touching my nose to the ground made me really awesome.

I spent the entire year doing a straddle for anyone who would watch.

I was awesome.  I want to be awesome again. 

It was a triumphant moment when, after only a week of stretching, I moved my legs past 90 degrees.  I am still far from awesome. 

The excellent side effect is that I stretch better while warmed up, so I now ride my stationary bike every night.  I never rode it to burn calories or get healthy, but it seems worth the time if it will help me to do the splits.

(Yes, I know that I am batshit crazy.  If the crazy is leading to healthier living, embrace it.)

Back in the Saddle

Back in the saddle again seems like a horrible metaphor for getting back into the dating world after a 3 year hiatus.  I've seen people get back in a saddle.  There is not nearly as much nausea as I am experiencing.

Maybe a better phrase would be "back on the roller coaster" or "back in the undertow."

Today I sent my number to two different men from dating websites.  I've been talking to both for a couple of weeks now and have broken all of my safety rules about meeting someone before giving out personal information.

Why? 

I am now chickenshit.  I don't have the energy or desire to set dates and drive an hour to meet a complete stranger.  Those dates are full of adventure.  They are also really draining and disappointing.  I ain't got time for that shit.

So, after a nice little pep talk, I sent my number to a couple of people who seem like harmless starter men.*  I immediately wanted to throw up. 

Starter 1:
A divorced father of two who makes doors for a living.  His hobbies include being a redneck and not using punctuation.  He already offered to drive 1 1/2 hours to meet me in my tiny town.  I declined, but gave him my number to buy some time.

Starter 2:
A man who claims to be an engineer who makes good money, but whose writing skills reflect that of a Radio Shack employee.  He seems nice, but his only picture is in a sweater that is so ugly, I hope it is a joke.  He is black and loves his momma, so I have overlooked the unfortunate sweater.

Can I even find my sexy clothes anymore?  I guess I'll find out in the next month or so.

*A starter man is very similar to a rebound.  They seem nice and may make a good diversion, but nothing about them says that they are the men of my dreams.  Neither of today's starter men can spell or write in complete sentences.  Texting will be painful.  I hope to practice on these men (not in bed) so that when I meet someone awesome, there will be a better chance that I won't sweat through my shirt on the first date.

Things I shouldn't admit: Lawn Care

I was sore for 2 days after mowing my lawn for the first time this year.  I have a RIDING lawn mower.  I am so out of shape, it was too difficult for my muscles to sit while in motion.

Things I shouldn't admit: Work

I do so little work while in the office that spending five straight hours actually working is now exhausting to me.

Things I shouldn't admit: Blackberries

I am presently addicted to blackberries.  I will go out of my way to drive from store to store looking for them.  Somehow, I developed an emotional connection between blackberries and being happy despite unhappy circumstances.  The connection probably started while reading the book, "The Hunger Games."

Things I shouldn't admit: Dr. Who

I am an ordained minister and I found more hope and love in the television series, Dr. Who, than I have found in any church in the last year.  I understand why people who have no community create an entire belief system from the show. 

I am very aware that it is not good to develop an affinity for a man who is constantly changing, unreliable, emotionally distant, and who lies on a regular basis.  Oh, and he is a fictional character on a television show.  There is that, too.