Arugula Fail

I don't know how I made it through the day without ending up on the 6 o'clock news.  Work was horrible today!  Let me tell you what I was subjected to...

So every Wednesday my boss goes to a 2 hour long business lunch with people from local businesses.  They schmooze and try to help get referrals for the other businesses.  Being a peon, I have never attended such a function since it is usually reserved for branch managers and loan officers--neither of which apply to my current station in life.  So imagine my surprise, when 45 minutes before it starts, I am told that I have to attend because no one else can go.  Oh, and I was told I had to give a 2 minute presentation.  In front of 30 people.  On a topic I know nothing about, so it's unlikely I can answer any of their questions.  And I get to buy my own lunch.  Oh, and this is a "working lunch" so I don't get to take a real lunch hour.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  I got so mad!  I had no notice or warning, so I looked like a slob.  Our mandatory logo wear at work consists of various shades of brown and gray.  SUPER FLATTERING.  I had no idea where this place was or what on Earth I was supposed to pretend to talk about.  I am not a schmoozer! 

So fuming, I tried to prepare myself as best I could.  I had to leave in like 5 minutes so I grabbed a yellow legal pad.  I think yellow legal pads say, "I can be taken seriously because I won't take notes on just any kind of paper."  They add a little touch of class.  That's what I was going for anyway.  I dug out my name tag that I never wear and tried put it on straight (sort of).  I put a fancy clip on a stack of my business cards.  Time was running out and I couldn't find a nice looking folder or portfolio anywhere.  I brought some cute folders from home for my desk at work.  There are three of them..  They say, "Someone called... about.. something.", "Why yes, I am overqualified.", & "Just file it under: Who Cares"...  Somehow none of these seemed professional and/or appropriate for my business lunch.  So all I could find was a bent manila folder that said "LIZ" in purple sharpie on the front.

I made it to the restaurant and was pointed to the back room where the meeting was being held.  A nice gentleman told me what was expected of me as a "substitute."  I would have to give a 2 minute presentation on whatever product we were promoting this week.  He told me to pick a seat in the giant "U" shape formation of tables.  All the outside seats were taken, so I sit inside the "U" between two old men who kept "accidentally" touching my legs under the table.  I was sitting right across from Barbie herself.

Before the meeting started, the waitress came around to take my order.  How come I never went to this cool restaurant BEFORE my diet?  The least offensive thing on the menu seemed to be an arugula salad with grilled chicken.  Lo and behold, Barbie had ordered the same thing.  Except she got her dressing on the side, automatically making me look like a fat slob.  Point 1 to Barbie.

The meeting starts and we go around the table and stand to make an introduction of our name/business and our presentations.  I'm somewhere in the middle of the line-up.  I was too nervous to start eating my salad.  I didn't want it to be my turn and then have to try to pick arugula out of my teeth and stumble to stand up.  So I just waited until it was my turn.  Barbie owns a hair salon, I found out.  SHOCKING.

I think my presentation went okay.  I was nervous and a little shaky.  But I think I faked it pretty well.  Finally, I sat back down and started eating my salad.  It was quite good.  But I hadn't anticipated that even though it was okay to eat while other people were speaking..  Everyone was somehow doing it silently so they could pay attention to the other presenters..  I was trying to concentrate on not scraping my fork in the bowl while nodding my head to pretend like I was listening.  My arugula kept falling off my fork just as it was about to go into my mouth.  It was a long, awkward, silent dance between me and the arugula.  Guess who looked better eating a salad in silence?  Point 2 for Barbie.

It took me about an hour and a half to eat that salad.  It was quite good though.  Maybe I appreciated it so much because I was starving slowly and had so much time to savor it.  This meeting was serious though.  They talked about all kinds of things I had no clue about.  There was like a president and a vice president..  They took down minutes.  To get into this group, you have to have a sponsor and submit an application and get approved.  Everyone had their tablets and Blackberrys and leather bound notebooks.  And I am dressed like a coffee bean with a bent manila folder and a crooked name tag.  Fat girl eatin' a salad here!  It was so awkward.

The torturous meeting was finally over.. but no one left!  It just meant freestyle schmoozing.  I tried to edge my way to freedom, but the door was being blocked by a tall, thin man.  He introduced himself and shook my hand.  He asked if we could have a one on one so he could get to know more about me.  He was an older guy, so I don't think he was a weirdo.  I heard them talk about having one on one's amongst the group during the meeting.  I thought he was just going to ask me some stuff about work, so I said okay.  Then I looked at his name tag.  Franklin....  Franklin the health/life coach.  So to add insult to injury, let's coach the fat girl on how to not be fat.  I felt so miserable.  Oh and I don't really remember agreeing, but it must have happened.. because I have a meeting with Franklin at 11:00 on Friday at Panera for our one on one..  How do these kinds of things happen to me?  I blame my boss for this.  I'm praying he has Franklin's card so I can cancel before it's too late.  I don't even know how to get in touch with him!  Franklin tricked me....

I was told my boss should probably pay me back for the lunch if I turn in a receipt.  So I did an extra tip on top of the already included gratuity out of spite.  One $16 salad later, I'm trying to skulk out the door when Barbie introduces herself and gives me a big, fake smile.  One of those, "You don't belong here" smiles.  I try to match her fake smile with an even bigger one and try to be even more aloof than she is.  I am a grown woman!  I will not be made to feel inferior by a bimbo with turquoise highlights in her hair!

I made it out to my car and looked in the rear-view mirror only to find........... arugula in my two front teeth.  Point 3 to Barbie.  No wonder I look like a need a life coach.

I called Cliff on my way back to work and was almost in tears while relaying my heinous "lunch" experience.  I stopped at Publix to get a Diet Coke and use the bathroom.  I didn't go at the restaurant because I desperately wanted to get out of there.  Besides, where would I put my manila folder?  There was a giant display of Pirate's Booty outside the bathroom.  I've never had it, but I've heard it was good so I grabbed a giant bag to console myself.  At the checkout, I did the proper conveyer belt etiquette and put a divider between my order and the old lady's in front of me.  Except she wouldn't MOVE UP when it was her turn...  She was hassling the poor cashier because she got 18 different kinds of apples and was complaining that they should be on sale.  All the while, her grubby hands are on my Booty!  I wanted to chunk an apple at her head.

I finally made it back to work.. defeated... to face the rest of my miserable afternoon.  And there in the parking lot was my wonderful, sweet husband with a bouquet of daisies.  I just started crying!  I think the whole lunch thing was tied up with me feeling fat and inferior.  I would like to think that even if I was thin and pretty I would still be nice to people!

So that was my day...  Horrible... but then salvaged by my Cliffy.  I'm glad I stuck to my diet and didn't eat something bad at the restaurant and I just had water to drink.  I actually tried the Pirate's Booty when I got home and it's pretty good.  No, I did not eat the entire bag.

I have not weighed myself this whole time!  I guess I will tomorrow before the head doctor so I at least know what to expect....  I'll keep you posted!

Hope.

Where to begin...  So much has changed since my last post.  I found a job, got married, moved into an apartment and started a new life.  Shortly after that, I lost my father.  My wonderful, hilarious, sweet, gentle, loving father.  It has been 10 months since he's been gone.  It has been so devastating, sad & lonely.  I know that is a huge reason for my weight gain.  I'm probably the heaviest I've ever been.  And here I am.  Starting over.  Again.

I went back and read a lot of my old posts.  I used to be pretty funny.  I hope I still am.  Or will be.  I will also try to be honest.  See, that's the thing.  Fat people lie.  They lie to themselves.  They lie to others about their habits.  I was impressed by the honesty of my older posts.  I will try to keep that up.  I could use some accountability.

I kind of had a meltdown/breakthrough the other night.  I went nuts and cleaned out my fridge and pantry and threw away junk food.  What was my meltdown about?  I'm going to be 30 this year.  3-0!  I'm an overweight, depressed, future bag/cat lady.  And I don't even like cats.  I have GOT to change!

I've explained this to my sisters and friends before, but the night of the meltdown, I was trying to explain to my husband, Cliff, how scary it is.  I have been overweight my whole adult life.  It's not like I can slap a formerly skinny picture of myself on the fridge as motivation and say, "Okay, I am getting back to that!"  It's scary to think you will work really hard for a year to two years to get to where you want to be.. and you have no idea what you will look like at the end.  And even scarier, will you even be happy with yourself when you do finally get there?  I feel like no matter what is staring back at me in the mirror, I will always be a fat girl on the inside.  That's frightening.  I don't like her.  She's mean.  And she picks on me.  And her butt is too big for our jeans.

The meltdown actually was set into motion by my dentist appointment earlier in the day.  I go regularly, but it seems like every time I go, they're always harping on me about flossing.  I TRY!  Well...  sort of.  Sometimes.  Okay, when I have something stuck in my teeth.  Of course, Janet, the dental hygienist, has no idea that I recently lost my dad to a heart attack-- so I can't really blame her.  But she's telling me about the link between oral health and your overall health.  And how you can't control plaque in your heart arteries, but since I can control plaque in my mouth, wouldn't I want to do it?  Don't I want to be healthy?  Don't I want to help myself?

I have this aversion to doctors of all kinds.  I feel like they judge me for being fat.  Like it's my fault I don't feel well because I'm fat, so I should just have to suffer.  I remember when I broke my toes one night when I was about 15 (thanks to a metal post on a bed and some intense horse play with my little sister, Eileen)..  My dad told me he'd take me to the doctor first thing in the morning.  I literally stayed up all night in tears and sick from anxiety...  Not because of my two broken toes-- but because I was terrified they'd make me step on the scale at the doctor's office!  How RIDICULOUS is that?!  I was more worried about the doctor judging me for my weight than I was about two broken freakin' toes.  That is not rational.  (They didn't even make me step on the scale because of my hobble.  So all my fretting was for naught.)

I haven't even gone to see anyone about my horrible migraines this last year I've had from stress..  Just because I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR a doctor tell me I wouldn't have them if I ate better, exercised, drank more water.  I do not question the validity of those assertions.  I know they're all true.  But I don't want to hear it from a doctor!  I don't want to hear someone who doesn't know me at all tell me what I need to do to have a better life.  Because in my head, all I will hear is, "Maybe ya wouldn't have migraines if you weren't so fat."  Thank you, sir.  I have a mirror.  I don't need you to tell me.

So I was explaining all this to Cliff the other night.  And I told him..  The only *slight glimpse* I have of a semi-skinny version of myself is from about 7 or 8 years ago.  I was doing like an Atkins type diet when it was popular.  It was totally not healthy.  I only ate plain tuna for like 6 months straight.  And of course, I gained everything back the first time I sniffed a piece of bread.  But I have one picture of myself where to ME, it is a skinny me.  I still had a ways to go, but it was a peek into what I would maybe look like if I lost all the weight.

So I'm whining & crying to Cliff that this stupid picture is the only thing I have to show me what I could maybe look like... But I still don't knoooow what goal I'm working towards.  And the blessed man said, "Why don't you just start there?"  Oh.  You're right.  Makes sense.  Best advice he could have ever given to his irrational, ranting wife.

Fast forward to the pantry cleaning frenzy.  Then I went to the grocery store and stocked up on chicken, tuna, fruits & veggies.  I hope it was a breakthrough.  Lord knows I need one.  I also made an appointment with a new doctor to get my noggin checked out.  And as you can see, I decided to blog again after 2 years!!  In one of our daily emails, my BFF Sandra told me that she had faith in me that I would stick with it.  I told her I don't know if I have faith yet, but I have hope.  And since I've been in a place with no hope for quite awhile, I'll take it. ♥
 

Hope      

by Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Sort of skinny-ish past and hopefully future me.