I don't want to be fat on my wedding day and other Random Tuesday Thoughts

One. I don’t want to be fat on my wedding day.

I’ve not stuck with my no-sugar, no-gluten diet and daily workout
for the past several days. After losing almost 3 pounds in the first
two weeks of eating very clean, I slipped up when I had to travel for
work last week. I avoided all the pastries set out as snacks in our
meeting room. I didn’t have a single coffee, even though I was two
hours ahead of my normal body clock. But on Thursday night, I had three
drinks–sugary drinks. On Friday, I ate a small popcorn at the movies,
and had soft serve ice cream at the airport. On Saturday night, we went
to a wonderful Thai restaurant, and I had a coconut curry with tofu.
Sunday, at my dad’s birthday party, I ate a brat on a white bun, and
corn chips with queso, and cake and ice cream. Last night, I didn’t go
to the gym.

When I got on the scale this morning, I’m up a half-pound over last
Tuesday. I had hoped to be down a pound. I stood on the scale beating
myself up, calling myself a loser, hating my body. I’m going to have my
wedding dress fitted next Wednesday, and I wanted to be at 175–6 pounds
from my goal weight. I stood there thinking, Oh well, so much for that.
I AM noticing changes to the shape of my body. I have to get that scale
weight out of my head and focus more on how I’m looking and
feeling–better on both counts. But it’s damn hard.

Two. I just received the contract for the place we want to hold our wedding, and it is ridiculous.

The contract is written for large street-style events. The fees add
up to $750 alone, and then we have to get a security guard, $3 million
in insurance, a portajohn, trash receptacles. I am devastated, because
there is no way–NONE–that we can afford this. The space is public,
managed by a quasi-government entity. I should scream First Amendment
Right to Assembly!! I know that I need to call the attorney who is in
charge of the events in the space and see what is negotiable, but I
don’t think I can do it unemotionally. I think I’ll either cry, or yell
or swear or hang up. I called Steve, and his reaction was (don’t
laugh), “That’s it, I’m calling the Mayor’s Office.” I’ve forwarded the
contract to our wedding consultant with the hopes she’ll be able to

Three. Lauren is at Zoo Camp this week.

She gets to spend all day this week going behind the scenes at the
Denver Zoo. Why didn’t they have this kind of thing when I was a kid? I
doubt she’ll be feeding the lions or poisonous snakes. But she gets to
hang out with her best friend and a ton of cool animals. I want to go
to Zoo Camp!

Four. I just got an email from the Etsy vendor I was going to use to make our feather fascinators.

She lives in Denver. I wanted to meet in person so I don’t have to
ship my brooch off to someone. She says her husband forbids her to meet
with clients in person because of safety reasons. Really? Your HUSBAND
forbids it? I’m disappointed because she’s the only person out of 4 I
contacted on Etsy who even got back to me. I like her work a lot. But
if she’s not going to play ball–I mean, really, she said she lives a
few miles from me–then I’ll figure out how to make the damn things

Five. My boss is quitting.

She’s been recruited to another cancer center on the East Coast. A
woman who has been my colleague will be my new boss on an interim
basis. I really like her. However, the door is now open for whoever
gets recruited as our center’s director to bring in a new team. And
that makes me very nervous. Resume tuning commences in 30 days.

I’ve enjoyed working for my boss. She’s flexible, laid-back,
hands-off and usually has my back. And she’s funny. She’s dedicated to
making our workplace a great place to work–a place where we feel like
we’re part of a team, like we matter as people. We’ve had a lot of fun
with her at the helm.

Six. I miss being part of a great communications team.

Working alongside a bunch of great communications professionals last
week reminded me of this, once again. It’s  a top priority for my next
position. This solo work–even on an administrative team–is my No. 1
complaint about my job. It has been from the beginning. I was so
wonderful to have people who GET IT to bounce ideas off of. There are
other communications professionals around the university I work for,
but they’re busy doing their own thing. I’m lonely and isolated. And I
don’t like it.

Seven. I am wearing golden handcuffs.

I keep thinking about the golden handcuffs with
this job–a 10% 401k match and 4 weeks of paid vacation and 2 weeks of
sick time a year, plus those 6 free tuition credits.

I’m reminded of dating Bad Boyfriend Joe. The sex with him was hot.
Amazing. The Best Ever. But everything else was not so hot. I stayed
with him partially because I was worried that there would be no more
great sex without him. Then it all got to be too much. And six months
later, I met Steve, and the sex is 100% better than it was with Bad
Boyfriend Joe. Everything else we have going on makes the whole sexual
experience more fulfilling. And maybe it could be true with another
job–not better sex–but better professional fulfillment.


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