The last couple of days have been great! On Wednesday I arrived to my last day of work at the library and brought chocolate bars for my supervisors and one big bar to share with the rest of the staff. I had worked there nearly three years and enjoyed everyone, so I felt sad about leaving. Turns out they were sad also! They had planned a surprise party for me with cake, flowers, presents and the whole library staff came! It was fun and flattering and I'm so grateful for them. It was a great last day of work.
Last night I went to meet some of my new work colleagues at a BBQ. They were all fun, friendly, well-spoken, and surprisingly good-looking. Everyone was incredibly intelligent and I think I'll enjoy working there. But that and hearing stories of others' exercise has induced me to hop on the treadmill. I'm about to finish my java and then I'll put on a movie and jog. I think that having a goal of some sort would help me--perhaps a distance goal, frequency goal, something. I don't own a scale so it can't be a weight goal.
The dog hasn't been coming back when called lately so we're going to try to put in a fence this weekend if it doesn't rain. We got an estimate and it's going to be expensive to have it done--about 2k--and to do it ourselves will top out at 500 dollars. Huge difference. This, of course, puts us in the position of doing a home improvement project that we have no idea how to do, but my husband is determined to do it ourselves.
I still love the car. I think I've named him Zippy, because he's got a lot of get-up-and-go and I bought him in a rush.
I read an article today about women's dress sizes having gone down. A woman who wore a size eight in the 1960s now wears a zero or two. Crazy, isn't it? Women are getting bigger and more and more companies are catering to women's vanity. Overweight women wear sixes and eights. Oh wait, *I* wear a six sometimes. This does not bode well for my believing I still fit in a size four--technically I do, but it's only because sizes have changed along with my rear. The number on the tag no longer reflects how cute a rear is. I can't delude myself any longer. Maybe that's a blessing in disguise.
This past weekend I went to a wedding shower and bachelorette dinner, and it was so strange to see the bride's old friends and new friends. Her old friends were the gorgeous, popular girls from Anytown High School, and I felt like I was looking at "Mean Girls: Ten Years Later." They were nice enough but rather cold, and all at the same time I couldn't help admiring how incredibly beautiful they were. The shortest one was a solid six inches taller than I am, so I can't help that, but it made me realize that I do have the choice how much to take care of my hair, skin, nails, and body. My husband and I were talking about it and I realized that my envy of them had little to do with them and everything to do with how I feel about myself. While I don't want to turn into them (with monthly hundred-dollar salon haircuts), I think my uncharacteristic envy of them was derived from how I've let myself go in graduate school. I've maybe gained ten pounds but more than that, I've just quit taking care of myself. So, the obvious solution is to begin anew, and I intend to do that. Just as a frame of reference, here's a photo of me in college on the pom squad and the second photo is from my honeymoon, two years later.
Yep, it's time to begin again.
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