Didn’t eat great again last night, but could have been worse. Weighed 199.1 this morning. Again, I hate weighing daily, but I must.
I didn’t take that long walk yesterday, but I did walk a lot at work, plus after I got home I went out again and went to the charity shops. I just couldn’t handle the idea of sitting in front of my computer for the rest of the night.
Today I’ll swim, do some laundry and housework, and hit some more charity shops. I simply adore the hunt for the rare thing.
I’m really beginning to like and appreciate the women at the kids center where I volunteer. I do feel as though I’m fitting in and liked, which is something that concerned me when I first started. My only wish is that there were a couple of older women I could end up befriending.
To be honest, I’m different from many women my age in that I’m more tuned in to pop culture. I heard a little girl telling a volunteer yesterday that she was into “fan fiction” and the woman didn’t have a clue what that was. Finding a friend my own age with similar interests might not be easy.
Even the women’s group I go to, which I have no intention of stopping, is way more touchy-feely than I like. I’m not a new agey person and we did an exercise where we looked into one another’s eyes the other day and told her “what enters the room when you do.” I hate crap like that. It’s just not me.
I miss some of the things one does with a more intimate partner. I miss going out to eat at decent places (my parents have a favorite chain coffee shop they frequent). Sometimes I’d just like to take a romantic walk by the river. Be invited to a party. Even watching a movie or tv show with someone would be a kick.
And there’s so much I want to do that I never did before. I’d like to go to Ashland and see some of the plays at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. I’d love to travel, go to California (where I was raised), go to Hawaii and learn to SCUBA. Learn about wine. Go to Europe.
Because I’ve spent quite a lot of time in London, I’m fascinated by English history. Every night I go to bed watching some documentary about Britain. But I’d also like to visit France, Germany, and the Scandinavian countries. My perfect job would be going to places like that twice a year and buying stuff to bring back to my shop.
I completely botched my hair the other day. I was a white blonde kid in Southern California but as I aged it went darker. In my early 20s I began dying it and back then I dyed it very blonde. In the last twenty or so years I’ve dyed it a more natural blonde. I bought a highlight kit but didn’t use the cap with the holes in it and ended up with really light hair in great globs. At first I was mortified and I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, which is not easy to do.
But in the days that followed, although it is a really bad hair job, I am beginning to sort of like the really highlighted parts. I need someone to fix it for me, but at least in the meantime I think I’ve discovered that this shade is not bad for me and it’s sort of fun. I’m too broke to have it professionally corrected right now so I’ll have to live with it for a couple more weeks.
It’s times like this week where I botch my hair and break my tooth that I just feel like such a loser. I did get my tooth fixed yesterday and when I got home I told my dad, “If you see me eating something hard, please put a pillow over my head while I’m sleeping because I’m too stupid to live.” He said okay.
I’m not as bothered by those things as I may appear, they’re just embarrassing, and not something that “dignified” women do.
I have noticed one thing that I must mention because it’s something I never thought would happen again.
I’m beginning to like what I see in the mirror. I’m beginning to appreciate what makes my face unique and, perhaps I’m only looking at the decent parts, or maybe I’m just kidding myself, but I see a face looking back at me that appears interesting, and even pretty.
Yes, because I’m really fair skinned, my skin has a lot of very fine lines (we just don’t age well in that regard!). I was so bothered with the sun spots on my hands but now I think, well, yeah, I don’t care for that, but my hands just look so much better with a 70 pound weight loss.
I can also see that I will have this “extra skin” issue and that’s bothersome, but again, I am not losing sleep over it. In fact I’ve come up with a sort of uniform for myself that has me excited. I had totally forgotten the joy of wearing dresses. I love the black dress, black tights, and colorful sweater or scarf look and that’s what I’m going to wear when I have my own business. And I’ll go out of my way to buy European shoes, which are more stylish, in my mind.
I’ll be 57 next Thursday. June has flown by. I never thought that at 57 I’d be okay with how I look, perhaps even pleased with some areas, and excited about dressing pretty, and standing tall, being comfortable in my skin, not wishing to be anybody else.
I feel that my new business will open interesting doors for me (providing there is a settlement and a business). When I have that shop open and running I will feel like a contributing member of society. I’ll have the confidence I need in order not to go into another relationship feeling “less than” anybody else. I will allow the business to evolve in order to serve the local student population.
I think tomorrow I’ll try to explain the business idea here.
I sort of dread weekends because that’s when I’m aware that I’m very alone. On the other hand, at least for today, I’m okay. I’m close to the “meh” stage we all talk about on the Chump Lady website. I know that doesn’t mean I’m fine and will not suffer any longer. I realize that there will still be plenty of ebbs and flows to come. But I am coming out of the pain cloud and feeling like a blossom about to bloom.