The quest for happy imperfection…

***Warning*** Long rant ahead. Only partially weightloss related. Enter at your own risk! 

 Not a good day. I just got done with youth group. (DH and I volunteer at a local church) Excuse me for being blasphemous, but is it wrong that after it was over tonight I just wanted a stiff drink? Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do. Heck, I wouldn’t be there if I didn’t. That’s the beauty of being a volunteer. But I had a kid lie to my face and disrespect me ALL FRIGGIN NIGHT LONG. Every time I asked him to do something (the same rules we ask everyone else to abide by) he’d laugh in my face and continue doing whatever it is he wasn’t supposed to be doing. Great, thanks. The selfish, mean, and wrong part of me wants to be a brat and tell him : Hey, I’m giving up my night off, one of very few that I get with my husband, to be here. I’m not getting paid. Heck, if anything, I’m losing money because the youth group has no budget and so all of the game stuff and goodies comes out of my own pocket. I’m not here for my health, or because I’m going to get a medal for it. I’m here because I care about you and the things that you go through. I AM NOT HERE TO BE TREATED LIKE CRAP! If I wanted that, I’d go spend more time at my job, atleast they pay me! If you can’t appreciate what we’re doing, or at the very least, show us respect, GO HOME. I have enough worthwhile crap to deal with. Like, what do I say to the girl whose sister just got raped, and now she’s constantly afraid? Or the kid whose dad gets drunk and beligerent every night? Or the kid whose sister owes money to some not nice people and the answering machine is full of threatening messages? What do I do for the girl whose mother suffers from  mental illness and routinely snaps? Or the kid whose family can barely afford groceries, let alone utilities? I have every single one of these issues to deal with and then some. I simply don’t have the energy or patience to put up with you loudmouthing me for the fun of it. I’m just tired. I’m drained. And damnit, I want a milkshake. And some fries. And a fat burger. Then wash all that down with some nachos.. and, well, I think you can see where the rest of this is going. I feel helpless. Helpless to help my kids. Helpless to keep my hand out of my mouth. Helpless to lose weight. Quite frankly, I am having one of those pessimistic moments where nothing is right and nothing will ever be right. Right now, in this moment, life sucks. Now I’m having to make the decision that, for the first time ever, I’m going to have to ask a kid not to come back next week. (not permanantly, just a week off) I can’t take it anymore, and I’m not far from snapping at him. Which makes me feel even worse. And then I feel truly awful for secretly hoping he never comes back. Very Christian-like of me, huh? Yep, I am a model of grace and forgiveness. Yes, bring your teenagers so that I can teach them all of the wonderful Christ-like teachings that I am completely unable to practice in my own life. Ahh yes. Anyone for another milkshake? I’ll take two.

*sorry for the long rant!

Wait, I don’t have kids you say? Yes, I do. They’re just furry, walk on all fours, and are conspiring against me.  So I get home last night, all excited to take Lucy dearest out for a nice long walk. Only to find that she has set up an archaelogical dig in my kitchen, where she is in deep study of my trash and what it says about my culture.  (My culture that’s about to give her a butt whopping!) so she goes into timeout while I clean up, grumbling the whole time. Finally, the dig has been returned to its resting place, and I go to wash my hands in the sink. Hmm, funny. I remember opening the window, but I sure don’t remember removing the screen… wait.. CRAP! So I run upstairs and, sure enough, Squitty, aka my husband’s other love, is gone. Damn damn damn! She’s not a particularly bright cat, and she’s always been curious of the outdoors. So I’m tearing through the backyard, yelling her name, stepping in dog poop (until the snow’s gone we don’t pick it up, since we won’t be out there anyway), generally freaking out. All I can picture is having to call DH at work, where he’s already having a bad day because his partner no showed and so he got stuck with another overnighter, and having to tell him I lost the love of his life. Then he would tell me to pack my bags and leave, and I would drown my sorrows in icecream… nothing good was going to happen.  Thankfully, she comes around the corner and I snatch her up, unsure if I want to strangle her or kiss her.

So, my whole night timeline got pushed around from my pet trauma. In the end, Lucy only got a 20 minute hike before I had to get over to a meeting at 7:30. I was seriously jonesing for some Taco Bell, which happened to be right next to the Starbucks I was meeting at. Luckily, I was able to convince myself Subway was a better option. I still had a roast beef with cheese AND mayo (boo-yah!) and half a bag of chips, but the quality of calories is still better. Went over to my meeting at Starbucks, had a hot tea, went hoem and off to the gym.

I tweaked my knee somehow so I didn’t do any lifts, and I didn’t have much time so I just did 45 minutes on the eliptical. But it felt good to just go and do. I woke up too late to do anything in the morning, and I didn’t have time to take her out at lunch. Same story today. (It’s so much harder to get out of bed when DH works the overnighter and isn’t there to push me out of bed in the morning when I hit the snooze button an 8th time)But, I’m getting better and better. And most importantly, I’m starting to like it again.

As for my boobs… I’m going to rip them off. I’ve finally accepted that I can’t just keep wearing the wrong size bra until I lose the weight. I’m ridiculously uncomfortable. All the time. So, this weekend I’ll be driving an hour and a half to get the right size. (Welcome to Tahoe, where you live far away from everything but the world’s dirtiest KMart) But, I’m looking forward to not hurting!