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January 2004 Archives

January 5, 2004

Loosing a little bit of myself.

Well, we started IT again this weekend.

Yep. It is that time kiddos. Mister and I stated the Great Weight Loss Debate of Oh-Four!

For those of you who are new to this and did not click on the “IT” link above… this is how our weekend unfolded.

Beach Body 90 is the diet we are working on. They have a program called “Fast Start” and it consists of a two-day program where all you do is drink an 8-ounce glass of freshly squeezed vegetable juice… three times a day. For your snack [and I use that term loosely] you are able to have 12 ounces of room temperature or warm water with lemon. They just smother you with choices, don’t they?

They ask that you do not exert yourself with any exercise or activity because you need all of the minimal calories that you are allotted to remain upright when you stand. I kid. Sorta.

Friday afternoon, after work, we met up at the house and decided to go to Saltgrass Steak House to imbibe in some last ditch yumminess before we started on our diet early Saturday morning.

Tell me something. Why is it that when you start a diet all of your time is spent at the grocery store? That was hell. Two grocery stores in two days… all filled with delicious treats I couldn’t even sniff. Shoot. We even went to Wal-Mart Friday night for the sacrificial carrots.

We got up early Saturday morning and made our breakfasts. Mister, being the disciplined man-man that he is, had no problem following this strict two-day process. I, on the other hand, thumbed my nose at convention and made up my own little ‘fast start’ to encompass the needs of my hypoglycemia. I am such the rebel. Rawr.

Mister ground up his sacrificial carrots three times a day in the industrial sized juicer that we purchased last year for this very purpose, and I (unwillingly) stuck to my little diet as well. My ‘meals’ consisted of an 8-ounce glass of low sodium V8, a 1-ounce package of string cheese and a tablespoon of JIF peanut butter. I needed the protein to stave off sugar spikes and crashes.

We weighed in Saturday morning I almost cried. I was a half-pound heavier than I was last year. A whopping 238. Let me spell that out so we can get the full effect. Two hundred and thirty eight pounds. I am thirty-one years old. I have a size OH MY GOD! ass. I am only 5’8” and some change on a tall day. I am probably 50% body fat. I am friggin HUGE. I won’t tell you Mister’s weight, as it is not my place, but we are both hefty. I think he is gorgeous. He is. He thinks he is huge. But he’s almost 6 and a half feet tall.

After breakfast Saturday morning we headed to the Dallas World Aquarium . I was in love. They have an exhibit with giant river otters. I LOVE otters. Sea otters mainly… but those giant river otters are impressive.

We walked around the exhibits and ooohed and ahhhed. We tried not to exert ourselves but I believe that because of that small bit of ‘out and about’ we lost more weight than we did last year when we did the fast start.

Saturday afternoon after the Aquarium of Wonderfulness we went to Central Market to find Mountain Valley Spring Water . For those of you who have a Central Market in your area… doesn’t it rock? All the choices and fresh produce! All the bulk materials you can by for pennies! We actually bought some marjoram spice for Mister to make split pea soup with. It cost us $.07. Seven cents! I just wanted to get out of there because it was painful to be around all of that food.

Is that normal? Or do I place WAY too much importance on food? I never thought it meant that much to me until my mood changed and incorporated some nastiness and a headache last night when I was so hungry.

I felt like I had lost my mind Saturday evening when I had 5 globe grapes and an ounce of ham.

The reason I am telling you this is because we lost weight people. Real weight. Mister lost 7 pounds and I lost 5. Twelve pounds for two people in two days.

Last year I lost like 2 and a half pounds. I think it was because I didn’t move around or eat protein.

All of this gibberish is mainly because I believe we are on our way.

We are on our way to unleashing the hotness. Heh.

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About my new job.

I love it here. In the first two weeks I was on the road for like 9 days. This place rocks. I have had a wonderful month to get used to my new surroundings and the people I interact with on a daily basis.

We’ve had several days off due to holidays and whatnot so that has made the transition so much easier.

These people are nice and very professional. I feel so lucky!

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I just read over the last part of this looking for monstrous grammatical errors. I am stuck by how menial and piddly I sound.

This viewpoint may come from the fact that I just read over the last few entries from Trance Jen.

Jesus.

I want to say a prayer for her, I want to hold her hand, and I want to show her the dark passages of my own life to let her know that it will be ok. But I know that I can never truly feel how she does, never truly know her heart. I have never known madness or self-loathing. I pray that she will come out of her despair a stronger woman. I pray that her mind heals and doesn’t force scars upon her and her family.

Dear Lord, please be with her during this time.

January 9, 2004

Firey Pits, Poopin Dogs and Panties

I used the grill.

I USED THE GRILL! … aaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnd… [This is the best part.] I didn’t burn down the apartment or cause any sort of critical trauma/drama in the interim.

This may not seem like a large feat of purpose to you my dear friends. But to me… this is as sweet as reaching the peak of Everest with no members of my group being eaten due to hungry Yeti or hungry mountaineers (a la’ Smokey Robinson,… wait, I mean the Swiss Family Robinson.. or was it that movie Alive?).

Ok, maybe it is not that big of a deal. But I was pretty darn proud of myself.

Why was it a big deal you ask?

You: I didn’t ask you that.
Me: Oh hush… you did too… with your eyes. Heh.

Well, I have, in the past mind you, been known to change a flat tire or two. Maybe work with my Daddy-O and his radial saw to create some pretty bitchin shelving units for my college roommate and myself. Change out parts on an older model dump truck to get it purrin like a kitten. Ok, the purring thing was a side effect of the kitty-2000 I installed in the flux capacitator.

I digress.

You: No… Really? You? Digressing from a point? Naw… say it ain’t so!
Me: I thought I asked you to hush.

Annnnnnyway, I have been known to do things that most women do not take on. Not like taking on Stone Cold Steve Austin or anything like that. Just mainly things that may be viewed as icky, sweaty or mechanical. I like a good project. But for as long as I can remember, I have had an aversion to large metal boxes with fire shooting out of them that are used for cooking food.

Mister… now, he is a grill- … Master. He can smack the flip flop on a steak and make it sit up and beg for Momma. Pork chops, Portobello mushrooms, chicken, you name it. He can cook it all on the grill. I, however, have never even tried to cook on the fire-y hell unit.

I have always been afraid that I was going to let too much propane out and cause the ozone layer to bust open over Dallas or that I would … oh hell, I don’t know… pass out from the fumes then blow up when the cigar smoking neighbor* came out for his evening walk with his dog.

*This guy. What a piece of work. We live in an apartment complex. This man and his wife (who never leaves their apartment dressed in anything other than her bathrobe) have a HUGE Rottweiler named Dexter. Dexter is a happy enough chap. He just leaves fecal piles the size of Mini-Me in the small strips of grass our complex tries to landscape nicely. Does Cigar Guy or Bathrobe Wife clean up after the voiding of Dexter the Wonder Shit? No. Of course not. At least Dexter has the good graces to look embarrassed.

Back to the grill.

I found a recipe online that I wanted to make last night. It seemed straight forward enough. It looked good. It fit within the guidelines of our ‘diet/lifestyle change’ and it did not require me to make a huge purchase at the local grocery store.

It DID require me to fire up the grill.

The worst part. - - >> Mister wouldn’t be home for this foray into the fire. I would be alone with only the instructions on how to operate the blasted thing in my memory. Dim memory. Considering the fact that I didn’t want to learn about the man grill or how to operate the man grill because I should never have to use it alone. Cha… right.

I was in charge of dinner.

We had plans for the evening starting at 7:30 pm.

I got home before Mister.

It was fate. I was destined to use the grill.

I did it…. And it was goooooood.

Yay me.

On another note, I just went to the restroom. When I pulled up my lady under garments the legs stayed on my thighs and the waistband came up to my armpits. I am not a granny panty wearer. I just never knew these things were so stretchy.

Too much information?

Sorry.

Everyone say Hi to Clarice. She has joined the ranks of readers (all two of you). Maybe we’ll let her do a guest entry.

January 21, 2004

Almost A Year.

I need a new banner.

I just renewed my Gold membership for Diaryland and I’m pretty stoked. It has almost been a year and I can’t believe it. A full year of my life in a journal. I am almost proud. I have always wanted a diary. I just haven’t had the moxie to back up my over inflated sense of, “This time I’m really gonna do it!”

I’ve purchased the Mead Composition books before. I’ve asked for the cute diary with a lock for Christmas. I have written down dreams, ideas and resolutions. But I have never stuck with it.

The Mead Composition books were too small; they did not hold enough pages. The cute diary with the non-Mom-proof locks was always forgotten about after a week or so. Anything else I have written down has been saved on a long lost floppy disk or written with such anal retentive insecurities that it sounded like I was not a young woman with a large imagination and a vocabulary to match but a tiny Amish* man with no needs, wants, dreams or thoughts of his own.

*Please read for your entertainment this entry from Miss Doxie about her conversation with her sister. This slays me. If you have a sister with a great sense of humor, this will make you pee a little. Yes, it does tie into the Amish. Hush. Go read it. I’ll wait.

I have always listened to my parents. I listened a little too much and took things too literally for my own good. I’ll go into this more later but the thing that is relevant was the admonition to “Never write something down that you don’t want published.”

Thank you Mommy. I should have listened to you when I was young and sort of A.D.D. about leaving certain steamy love letters (that I received from my then boyfriend) lying around. In your room. On Your Floor! AFTER PLAYING ATARI WITH SAID BOYFRIEND!!!

Ok, that last sentence didn’t really need all caps. I just got carried away with the importance of ending the paragraph on a big TA DA!

Yes, I did leave love letters that I received on the floor. Or on my desk in my room. Or in my purse. Crazy me. If I knew better, I would have burned the notes and letters. I would have forgone the urge to write down dreams, prayers, wishes and bits of creative fancy. As it was, I just wrote down sterilized things I thought about. Passing fancies or lists of things I wanted to do in the future. A list that always included “lose weight”. I stopped writing creatively and boiled any emotion out of my writing so nothing could be pinned on me. So that I couldn’t be blamed for anything.

Why so paranoid? I think it comes with being Baptist. All of the guilt of Catholicism, yet none of the Saints! Whata slogan!

I was young and dumb and not all that hyper about keeping things to myself. I had a very loose sense of the word privacy and my parent’s enabled me to live virtually boundary free. In both the physical and emotional senses. For example: I did not have a lock on my door to my room and was questioned when it was closed. I was in a safe environment and there was no danger in the house. In my mother’s words, “If you think you need to hide something, you probably don’t need to be doing it.” A closed bedroom door was a sure hint that you were hiding something in her mindset. Thank goodness the bathroom door didn’t have the same stigma attached to it.

I know I am getting older when I see some wisdom to this. Not the closed-door thing. Because if I ever tried to force that issue with my future son or daughter, I am sure they would sneak out at night and run away just like I did. I am talking about the “If you think you need to hide something, you probably don’t need to be doing it.”

I just think that in my parent’s case it may have been taken a bit to the extreme.

I know I wasn’t supposed to be receiving steamy love letters at that age, full of info on what said boyfriend wanted to do to me. That is WAY to young to be that cheesy and a little gross.

Even after my father called said boyfriend into the den to talk to him. “So, ya little roughneck. What exactly is it that you want to do to my youngest daughter?” [I’m paraphrasing of course, I’m sure the conversation included a threat and the word ‘rubba-nuts’ in it.] I still kept those notes and letters out of a need to feel important. To know that someone cared enough to write words of feeling down during Algebra II.

How sad. A cute little girl, or young woman, needing to keep reminders of emotional attachments with boyfriends and even regular friends. As if to say, No, really, I am wanted and needed. See? Look at all of these notes I have. People wrote these to me. I’m not too fat. Even though I did lose my virginity at a very early age, I am still respected and wanted. Somebody wants me. I’m not a slut. I’m Not! Nobody thinks I’m a freak even though I’m taller than everyone else. No one thinks I’m weird when I laugh a little too loud and manically trying to be the life of the party.

Ya’ll… I kept a garbage bag full of notes until I graduated from college.

Now I know that I don’t need those notes to feel important; to mark a milestone of how somebody felt about me, or how I made them feel. I don’t need those notes to remember a special moment about people from my past. I don’t need those notes to believe in myself or to make sure that I remember that I was good enough for that person at that moment and that maybe I could be good enough again.

I still have a few. Mister and I went through them when we were packing my apartment before we got married. We read them together and “awwww’d” over the particularly sweet ones and scrunched up our noses at the psycho ones. I keep the few that I have now out of sentimental reasons as opposed to necessity.

Mister does write me notes now and again. Sweet and kind notes that fill me up with warmth and happiness. The biggest difference is that now I don’t have to rely on notes for fill that empty spot. I have grown up considerable over the past ten years. I have grown into my skin. I like me. My ass… now, that’s another story. Heh. Seriously, I had to grow into seeing the best in me. It took a lot of therapy, a lot of beer and some serious face time with people like Mister, my sister and Stacey the Possum Slayer .

With the process of self-actualization and dealing with and acknowledging my faults weakness and my strengths, I have slowly but surely come around to the writing side of the table again. A big step was this diary. I have written some pretty painful things down on these pages and they may be something that I don’t want published. But… by gum, this is me. I will be 32 this year. I have a wonderful life, husband, family, cat and job. I am not apologizing for myself anymore.

My tummy is poochy, my feet are pretty, I pee when I sneeze, my grammar is atrocious and I put my pants on backwards last week.

How you doin?

January 22, 2004

Phase One of Mister's Birthday

Sooo excited.

Tonight is a wine tasting at Lawry’s Steak House. Have I ever been to Lawry’s? Nope. Have I ever been to a wine tasting? Nope. Do I even drink wine? Nopey nope nope. So why am I so durn excited? (Yes, I spelled durn that way on purpose… moving along.) I am excited because it is Phase One of Mister’s Birthday.

His birthday is not even until the second Sunday of next month, but hey… I’m an over achiever. Quit it, stop laughing.

I’m excited because it is his favorite wine in the world and… annnnnnnnnnd, we get to eat real food. Yay me! So clever.

*blink*

I thought I asked you to stop laughing.

So, real food for me and a lot of red wine for Mister tonight. Yep, it’s gonna be great!

Phase Two of his birthday may include most or all of the following:
a very perfect birthday present
a box for said present to be wrapped in
ribbon or decorations for present
some hot Suz lovin’
a private recital for him to be preformed by me
small multi-colored poodle
unusually large unicycle
flaming bowling pins
an antique squeeze box
the theme to Dallas
white patent leather Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader boots
and glitter…. Lots of glitter… A’La Rip Taylor.

Of course I can’t reveal the present for true! Mister may stumble upon this site and the surprise will be ruined.

For some reason I first typed Rip Torn in the place of Rip Taylor. Sorry, Men In Black guy. When I IMDB’d* Rip Torn I couldn’t imagine him ever throwing confetti at people. Rip Taylor is SO Hollywood Squares… pre-Whoopi. Not that post-Whoopi is any worse.

*When I just used IMDB as a verb, it reminded me of an entry by Robin. She used ass as a verb. As in “He assed me.” Bottom of the page. No really, go read it. This woman cracks me up. I have such a girl crush on her.

Tomorrow is the Clarin’s facial at Sak’s Fifth Avenue after work for Mister and I. Yay! We are SO getting some more of that blue relaxing tranquility shower gel. That stuff is ambrosia of the gods. Ambrosia I say!

Well, it is after five and the man (Mister) is on his way to pick me up. We’re taking one car so he can drink as much wine as he wants. After all, it is his birthday.

Have a great Thursday!

About January 2004

This page contains all entries posted to Suzanna Danna in January 2004. They are listed from oldest to newest.

November 2003 is the previous archive.

February 2004 is the next archive.

Many more can be found on the main index page or by looking through the archives.

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