Wherein I Spent the Last 24 Hours in The Bloggess' Head

I had some leftover birthday money this week, which was shocking in-and-of-itself (who needs a retirement plan?). I had every intention of going to the bookstore to buy just a couple of yoga books, because I'm on a "I hate myself because I've gotten so fat and how could I let it get this bad?!!" kick, and wanted to immerse myself in yoga again.

And I am in total self-loathing mode right now, too. It's awful. I keep wondering where all this back fat came from, because it's certainly not MINE, and I'd like whoever's it is to come and get it back now, please and thank you. So I'm hellbent for leather about getting healthy and back in shape. Mostly because I'm not getting any younger and aging is not kind to women. Also because self-loathing sucks. And also because I really want to be the person who can resist things like bagels and chips. Carbs are my weakness.

Ok...this was not supposed to be a blog about how fat I am.

So, I had every intention of JUST getting the two books about yoga and maybe one for The Nugget (who had begged me to go to the bookstore), but apparently my willpower is non existent, because I ended up buying way more books than planned, including The Bloggess' "Let's Pretend This Never Happened." to say that I was hooked would be a gross understatement of epic proportions. I was sucked in. That book was a black hole of awesome, but in the GOOD way.

So I accomplished nothing in the way of getting back on the yoga mat, and very little done in the way of packing and cleaning. But it was totally necessary, not that I could convince The Boyfriend™ of that. It was necessary that I read The Bloggess' words and immerse myself in her bravery. It was necessary to find a kindred spirit in the whole getting over the self loathing and learning to embrace the things that make us so very human and awesome.

I want to be funny and witty here, but I can't. I was truly moved by this book.

I'm a bit nervous about losing the glow. I feel inspired. I feel freer. I feel mildly fearless. I feel like I have been encouraged to stop hiding ME and let me out of the cage. I feel like I should go ahead and wear a prairie skirt with my Mudvayne t-shirt, if that's what I want to do, because who gives a fuck. And if someone does give a fuck, clearly they have nothing better to do than be all judgey and fuck them for being all judgey.

And more important than that is that I just need to live balls out. I need to be brave and not embarrass so easily. I need to not care about who might mock me for my attire or hair. I need to have more conversations with The Boyfriend™ about zombies, and I need to have more dance offs in the dining room with the trolls.

Because life's too goddamn short to be wrapped up in what other people think. The world is scary enough and fucked up enough without letting my monkey mind get the better of me.

So I'll get on the yoga mat tomorrow. And the rest of the world can go fuck itself if it can't take a joke. Thank you, Jenny.