Ride the White Horse....

I want to be the cool one, but I just can't be...

I work with these girls every day and all they do is get drunk and high in their off time...

Listen, I can't blame them for having fun, but I do know that when I did it, I didn't miss work or act like reality was some remote part of my profession....

I can only imagine how the young girls under me at my firm hate me. Not only can I always smell booze, but I can see the exhaustion of a coked-up night out more than anyone. Not sure my Associate is reading, but if she is, I can see the coke bloat on her face almost every day. I don't care, nor judge, that she does it...I have no problem with cocaine, but you have to buckle up and man up and be responsive at work. Then, I won't care...

Elaine

Short Circuit

Cable went out again earlier this week. Picture was on but no sound.
I called Time Warner and the tech adviser (a nice woman in Costa Rica) said, "why don't you try a DVD to make sure it's not your TV."
So I put on the DVD player, thinking I had a movie in only to hear - LOUDLY -  "uhhhhh....oooohhh yeah. Fuck me!" 
There was porn in the player. The tech advisor coughed and said, "um, sounds like it's working."
" yeah, sounds like it....my husband has been away, normally he could fix this."
So yeah, Mr. Ella better come home, and soon....

Fashion Weak

The title is all I have to say about that. Don't think I should go much further. Know too much....

Be back after sept 14th.

Crazy Little Thing Called Ugh

I know I don't have it as bad as other women. My husband is not in the armed forces; he's not off fighting some bullshit war. He's not in prison, nor is he in government. But he is away, for six months, working on a Tom Cruise movie. Scientology jokes aside, my husband is gone...living in Pittsburgh until February 2012. We've been married for 9 months and the challenges posed to wedded bliss have come fast and furious.

It all started one February weekend. At 6 pm on a Thursday, I got the call. My mother had a heart attack. Two days later, I thought my husband was calling just to check in but instead he told me his equally devastating news: that his father had a stroke. The honeymoon was definitively over.

As my mother (thankfully) recovered, his father faltered. I flew to Ohio with a funeral dress and went to pick out my father-in-law's cemetery plot. Miraculously (an astounding story for another time), he pulled - no fought - through and is very much alive today.

My husband came home several weeks later and just last month was deployed to his Pittsburgh home.

I know I am lucky. I have a husband who loves me and who is busting his ass to save for our home and our upcoming family. But I can't help thinking like a brat...I can't help wanting him home, wanting him here with me and our doggie so we can live our life together, present everyday.

I worry. I worry the temptations of life away from home will cause a temporary lapse in his judgment. I worry about being one half of a couple living very separate lives, day in and day out. I worry our vices will eventually lead to consequences much like our parents just suffered. We're both not exactly young and indulge a bit too much in food and drink. (I also still struggle with smoking - a true death sentence for many in my, now deceased, genetic pool.)

The bottom line is this: I need strength. I need the power to thrive independently and simultaneously be my husband's best (and sexiest) cheerleader. I need to relish this time alone and do something with it. I need to write...

If You Die and Go To Hell...

you will most likely be forced to do cardio. seriously. where have i been, some of you ask? on a road or stairwell to FUCKING nowhere.

each week, i am told i need to do 30 minutes of cardio - in addition to the 60 minute workouts from hell that i pay for - four times a week to help me lose weight.

so far, yes, it seems to be working. i've lost 5 lbs and 4 inches from my bust in about 7 weeks. (i don't give a shit about my waist....when you are ALL TIT...all you care about is TIT.)

they say that working out gives you this "high", this "euphoria" that lasts for hours. BULLSHIT. it exhausts you and makes you hungry for carbs, but you can't eat carbs, so you have grilled chicken or tofu instead.

anyway, i really don't hate the intense workouts that i do with my adorable little puerto rican trainer. but i fucking hate the cardio.

today, i did 21 minutes on the stairmaster and thought i was going to die. 21 MINUTES?! i was supposed to do 30.

but i got dizzy and had an ice cream headache and got off and went on the treadmill for 14 minutes. read vogue. think i made up for the time off the stairmaster of evil.

anyway, this post is/was lame. the truth is, i don't know what to write about. if you are out there - which i know one or three of you are - can you tell me what to say?

ella

I AM FUCKING STARVING

hey
yeah, i know it's been awhile, but guess what? i want BREAD. i want PASTA. i want anything that - apparently - you are supposed to enjoy in moderation. FUCK moderation. FUCK restraint. FUCK ME. because i have to accept these things and i am FRIGGIN STARVING.

it's a trip and a half to be the "chubby bride". why? because i always grew up the "skinny one" - in grammar and high school and then in college...i was "skinny" - yet i never really thought so then.

the truth is, even with my workouts and diet plan, i am fat. for whatever reason (hell, i know why) i got just about obese between the years of 2003-2006 and have never fully recovered.

it started because of panic disorder. i wanted to be "calm" and "normal" but the necessary pill made me bloated and yet strangly in control.

more to come...
e

I FUCKED UP

I have known for quite some time that I am a bit overweight. I say "a bit" because I don't quite appear FAT or OBESE in anyway. However, I know that my lifestyle over the last several years has left me heavier than I have ever known.

I knew something was wrong about a month ago. I started feeling tired for no reason, started feeling "large" if there is such a thing.

So I scheduled a physical exam. I knew my fears were correct when even the under-educated (albeit sweet) nurse expressed concern.
"Are you here for your blood pressure?" she asked.
"Yes, why?" I replied, alarmed.
"The doctor will talk to you."

Well FUCK, I thought. I knew that technically the nurse wasn't supposed to give me that reaction no matter if it said I was about to die a horrible death. But I knew she did because she was so concerned...I'm sure most 29 year old patients don't have the blood pressure reading I had just given her.

I spoke to my Doctor about the pressure. About the stress at work and about my terrible diet - full of carbs, salt, and cholesterol. He told me to watch my salt.

Then came Sunday.

On Sunday, while visiting my 93 year old grandmother and almost-96 year old grandfather, my doctor called me. My triglycerides were off the charts. As high a range as they can be. For someone my age, they were in the stratosphere. I freaked the fuck out. But I had to calm down for the sake of my grandparents. My Grandmother especially, cannot take news like this. So I sucked it up and pretended as though nothing was wrong. But something was/IS.

I admit that I have known my diet and alcohol (and, yes, for awhile, drug) intake was bad. But I never thought it would mean this. I thought I was being reckless; thought I was having "fun." But in reality, I was slowly killing myself. I was always afraid of ODing, but what I should have feared was having a stroke or a heart attack.

I am 29. Repeat I am 29. From here on out, I have to follow a strict low sodium, low fat, and low carb diet. While that sounds like everyday behavior to some girls, it's not for me. For me it is a complete turnaround in lifestyle, a complete surrender of everything I have lived for years.

The funny thing is, I am perfectly willing to turn my health around. In fact, I have already lost about 4 lbs. since going to the Doctor on Friday. Tomorrow, I plan on wearing a dress to Fashion Week that I didn't think I could wear anytime soon. The plus side to all of this is that I will probably fit into that Size 6 wedding dress next Spring.

But the hard/scary part is that I couldn't just do this my fucking self. I couldn't just work to lose the weight a year or so ago. I had to wait until my Doctor was telling me that I could stroke out soon or have cancer 10 years from now to do something.

So, here's the thing. If you are overweight (and I am by only about 30 lbs overweight - I am not morbidly obese), go see your Doctor. Get a blood test and test your blood pressure and make sure you are healthy. One can be overweight and healthy, but one can be overweight and very unhealthy. You don't have to be OBESE to be unhealthy.

I am working to change my lifestyle and feel good about it. In fact, I already don't crave pizza and chinese the way I once did. I now see those types of foods as dangerous and deadly. Never thought I would.

Anyway, it took a while to get there. It took many years of thinking I was "young" and not giving a shit to come to this point. But here's the truth:
What you eat at 22 does effect the person you will become at 28. What you drink at 23 does effect the person you will become at 29.
What you do at 29 does effect the person you will become at 30. I'll be 30 next June. And I'll be a hell of a lot thinner and healthier.