One day, I will have some actual content to post on this blog, but for now, inane photos will have to do. It’s been busy. Very, very busy. I am up to my ears in fabric and ink and yarn and paper and glue. But! It is all good.

Side note: I actually started tearing up today at the courthouse, while we were sitting there waiting for them to issue our marriage license. The dude (who couldn’t have been more than 22) was just, like, typing shit into a computer and I was TEARING UP. People. I’m a mess.


Thirty Days

January 2005. About a month after we officially started dating.

I knew even back then that there was something different about this guy. But I really had no idea I’d be marrying him almost seven years later. Funny how that works.

#9 on the DC Bucket List: Visit friends in Philadelphia

Philly’s a great town. I try to get up there about once a year, to hang out with close college friends, Doris and Adrian. This time, I convinced Kim and Matt to join in on the fun. It was awesome. Kim and Doris are my two best friends. We hardly ever get the chance to spend time with each other, so this was lovely!

We did the following: crafted for a few hours (and boy oh boy, these napkin rings are so adorable!); ate Mexican food at a place with amazing, well-sized margaritas for $4.50; devoured fantastic coffee gelato at Capogiro; watched a horrible, HORRIBLE Jake Gyllenhaal/Anne Hathaway/Anne Hathaway’s boobs movie; visited the Edgar Allan Poe house; purchased my very own National Parks passport; ate lunch at PYT (resulting in lots of singing to Michael Jackson); checked out the Italian Market; saw the Liberty Bell (and got another stamp for my passport); ate vegan pizza and cheesesteaks (and apparently pissed off the girl working there by having the audacity to call ahead and see if we needed reservations); went to the free Dr. Dog concert; and then ate scrumptious pancakes for breakfast on Sunday.

It seemed like everywhere we went, there were hipsters. Lots and lots of hipsters. Maybe we like the same things they do. Or maybe we are wannabes.

I should also mention that I read this particular woman’s fashion blog, and she lives in Philly. I won’t say who because I’m shy. But I will say that she’s super pretty and I even stalked her wedding photos. Anyway, I totally saw her at that Mexican restaurant. I didn’t have the guts to say hello, of course.  But what are the odds?

I am attempting to do 25 items on my DC Bucket List before the move to Seattle, and document them here.

On Body Acceptance and Learning to Just Let It Go

All right, I think it’s time for me to get something off my chest, and since you are my closest friends and family, I’ll have to warn you that this might get slightly uncomfortable. Sorry, peoples. I like to make it awkward for everyone, apparently.

When I was 12 years old, I started reading Teen Magazine. You know, that Teen Magazine. Is it even still around anymore? As a typical pre-adolescent girl, I devoured all that junk. Makeup tips, embarrassing stories about boys and tampons, quizzes. It was all so intriguing and new to me – although I loved playing with Barbies as a child, I was really just a tomboy who hung out with my younger brother a lot.

In the back of Teen Magazine, I saw an ad that touted a book revealing the secrets to losing lots of weight. I can’t tell you how exciting this was to me, a chubby and unathletic girl who was starting to feel very self conscious about my inability to run more than a lap around the track without stopping or doing more than 10 situps at a time. The book was called Swedish 19, or something like that. I sent away for it, enclosing $20 cash in the envelope (there was no way I’d ask my mom to write a check for it), and was so eager to receive it a few weeks later.

It was pink, filled with wisdom like “keep a food log,” “drink a lot of water,” “start an exercise regimen,” etc. All of which would make anyone roll their eyes now, because who hasn’t heard THAT – but I was 12. It was all so revelatory to me. I drank up that stuff.

I won’t make this a long-ass personal history of my ups and downs with dieting and weight loss, because I know that’s boring. That’s boring even to me, and I think about this kind of thing daily. However, I do want to talk about why, after nearly 20 years of obsessing about food and exercise and weight, I’m pretty much calling it quits on that shit.

When I got engaged last summer, I formulated this exciting plan about how I was going to ramp up my exercising and really buckle down with my nutrition. I was going to lose weight! Lots of it! And fit into a size 6 wedding dress! It was really happening!

Fast forward to today, the first day of September, less than two months before my wedding. I actually weigh more than I’ve ever weighed in my life. (I’m not exaggerating.) Since none of my pants fit, I live in loose fitting dresses and skirts, if I’m not just wearing pajamas. I’m more tired than I’ve ever been – and what does that make me want to do? Eat everything in sight. I certainly do not fit, by a long shot, into the J Crew wedding dress that’s hanging in my closet.

I’m not saying this to elicit pity – really, I’m just presenting facts. But I mention it because all along I’ve been thinking about my wedding date as a deadline. “Okay, if I can lose 20 pounds by October 21st, I’ll fit into my dress and look great in the photos. All will be dandy!”

But how effed up is that – to look at my wedding day, quite possibly one of the happiest and most special days of my life – as a DEADLINE? No matter that I’m getting married to the love of my life and I get to spend the weekend with people who are the nearest and dearest to me. If I lose that weight, then I will be happy! Blah. And blah.

For all the times I’ve embraced the fact that I am an untraditional sort of bride, who wants to make this wedding as non-cookie cutter as possible – I sure am harping a lot on the whole “HAVE TO LOOK PERFECT FOR MY PHOTOS” thing. And can I just say that I am really freaking over it.

I made a conscious decision about two years ago to stop the Fat Talk. Essentially, I was always guilty of making dumb, self-depricating comments to my friends along the lines of, “I really shouldn’t be eating this, I’m gonna get soooooooo fat.” Etc, etc. I’m pretty good about not doing that anymore (except for when I’m around T – I’m sorry, dear!), and I’m hyper aware now of when any of my girlfriends do it. I certainly seem like I have body confidence these days – I don’t Fat Talk and I always encourage people to stop with the guilt and just eat the damn cookie, already.

But perhaps it’s all a big lie. I still have so many body acceptance issues. I just don’t verbalize them as much.

I just wrapped up my last official class on the schedule as a fitness instructor at my local Gold’s Gym. I’ll still sub every once in a while, but my name is no longer out there. I have to admit that I will not miss being in the spotlight and feeling like I’m not a good enough instructor because I don’t have the ideal fit body. Many people have told me otherwise, and I know deep down that I am a pretty damn good fitness instructor – but you’ll get those stares and occasional comments. And, surprise! It doesn’t feel that great. But now that I don’t have to deal with that anymore, maybe I won’t have to struggle so much with my journey to self-acceptance.

Gag. I’m sorry that I just said that.

Anyway, I thank you if you’ve read this rambling, quite incoherent post this far. Obviously, I have no real resolutions here. But I did just want to share the jumble of thoughts that occupy my brain on a daily basis. When I should be doing wedding crafts, instead. Woot!