~* The New Average *~

I saw a post on FaceBook yesterday from ABC News that H&M clothing stores are now using a plus-sized model. This model is depicted in a 2piece swimsuit, is said to be a size 12, and is said to be a "normal-sized" woman. This is what average in our society has become. Have you seen this picture?

I read through the comments regarding to this picture. The majority of them were along the "Finally, a real woman" or "at least she's healthy, not skin and bones" lines.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???

How can you misconstrue this obesity as healthy?? This girl has a gorgeous face, but she is at least 30% body fat. If she is 180lbs, that means 60lbs of her body is pure fat. 30% is obese. Not healthy. High risk for diabetes and heart disease. And sadly, the new average.

Fashion and society have adapted to accommodate the laziness and vanity of our physically growing population, and it's disgusting. It happens in so many aspects of life- second example that comes to mind is the new means of grading for the majority of students these days. Just pass them so they don't feel stupid or left out. Well, folks, some kids aren't all that bright. Harsh, but true. Some parents don't put in the work, some kids don't put in the work, some teachers don't put in the work- it all leads to the same end. Dim kids.  Just as some women aren't healthy and attractive. Same kind of truth.

Why is it so out of vogue to show physically fit women as models? These aren't just fashion models, these are role models for young girls, and shouldn't a role model be someone who puts in effort and takes care of the only body they are given? Not overweight, or underweight for that matter. I'm not at all saying girls should be self conscious or anything that may lead to low self esteem or an eating disorder. I'm just saying that it shouldn't be a bad thing to advertise health and effort and hard work.

Did you know sizing now is different than it was in the past? Sizes are at least 2 inches larger now than they were 20 years ago. Marilyn Monroe may be a size 14 by today's standards, but in her time, she was a size 8. This is the kind of adaptation that I mean. Sizing to accommodate vanity. Nobody wants to take care of themselves, but nobody wants to be classified as fat either. You can't have your cake and eat the whole damn thing. Well, you can, but you shouldn't be able to still be called a size 6 when you're done.

***disclaimer- this is my blog, and therefore, my opinion.

~* 75 In A School Zone *~

No, not me. I'd never speed in a school zone. I take that pretty seriously.

I just feel like that's how my life is going. I'm moving in with J. Actually, aside from the bigger furniture, I'm all moved in. And I feel like it's too quick.

I love him, I adore him, and on paper, we are freakin' perfect for each other. But, as I was moving boxes from my car into his house, it kinda hit me that I'm not ready for this. Of course, a little too late. I do this kind of thing all the effing time, and I end up in the exact same position- not knowing how to fix it. How the fuck do I bring up that conversation?? "Hey babe, I'm crazy about you and I'm so grateful that you're letting me move in and it's awesome that you're stoked about it, but uh....let's just make it temporary. I'll move out again in a few months, and then, if things keep going well, back in a few months after that, k?" Grrr.

I am so fucking mad at myself, and it's making me be bitchy to him, and I just need to stop.

~* Stability *~

Normally, I would be using the term stability in reference to training. Today, it's about my life. I just really want some stability, and it doesn't seem to be happening.

Let me rewind-
I don't remember if I mentioned this, but 3 weeks after I moved in with my roomie, she ended up under psych observation for 2 weeks. After hearing all the stories, I chalked it up to a misunderstanding. Someone took something out of context, and she ended up having to pay for it. Weird, but ok. It happens.

Once. It happens once.

She's under psych observation again. I don't really buy into "coincidence", but her situation isn't really my concern. I'm upset because she's been there since last Thursday. I didn't find out until yesterday. I came home on Sunday morning, like I do every week, and she was gone. I texted to see if maybe her work shifts changed, and she never got back to me. Then I woke up Monday morning to see her ex boyfriend's car out front. He stayed in the house, overnight, with just me and the dogs, and nobody bothered to tell me!! That is not ok in my book. I live here, I think I have a right to know who is coming and going, and when, and why. Apparently, nobody else feels the same.

So, now I'm uncomfortable being here. Plus J has been asking me to move in for a while. It's inevitable. He's gonna be lucky #3 one day, and maybe my current roomie situation is a sign that I'm not supposed to be here. I don't believe in coincidence, I do believe in signs. I'm terrified, but I'm excited too. Everything happens for a reason, right? I'm just tired of moving. I'd like to be able to make a place "home" for a while.

*Sigh* Who has a truck to help me move?

~* Just A Vent *~

I've avoided this vent for a while now, maybe out of denial, maybe out of a desire to avoid confrontation. I'm at the point now where I just want to get it out.

My family drives me effing crazy. I know everybody says that about their family, but that doesn't make it less true. I feel so terribly disconnected from them. My entire life, I've wanted to be a closer-knit family, but it just isn't going to happen, and it's tough to accept. I understand that maybe a lot of that is because I live 7 hours away from them, but I've made that trip to visit 4 times over the last year, and I'm getting ready to do it again next week. They've each made the trip down here once in the 2 years that I've been here. And yes, my dad gets a pass on that. I get it, he's old.

It's not just the lack of visits. It's the lack of communication altogether. Granted, it's gotten a smidge better since the situation with my dad, but not really much. Nobody calls me or texts me- I always make the first move. I think since I got separated 4 freaking months ago, the only person to ask how I'm handling it all has been my dad. Once. That's it. Nobody seems to even care, and it's depressing. I haven't bothered to tell any of them about the amazingness that is in my life now because, let's face it, they won't care. J asked me the other day- hypothetically, if we were to get married on a tropical beach somewhere, how many people would be coming for me? I'm not sure any would. Sad truth.

Now, I'm not feeling sorry for myself. This is not a "poor me" kind of thing. I'm actually kind of pissed about it all, really. I swear to effing Christ that if I ever get to have kids, they will always feel loved and wanted and included. I just needed to get all of that off my chest. I'm done now.

I'm actually having a pretty decent day, which is maybe why I felt safe enough to vent. I woke up 35minutes before my damned alarm this morning and I felt like shit, but I got some meds (thanks mom for teaching me how to whip up cheap Mucinex) and I got in a decent quick CrossFit workout (WAAAAY scaled). Already had lunch, and about to get my learn on. So, mind is clear...let the rest of the day be awesome!

~* Want A Friend? Be A Friend *~

I'm going to vent a little bit...

I'm fucking tired of people who complain that this person or that person is a terrible friend, yet they refuse to see that very same truth about themselves.

I am well aware that in my past, I have been an awful "friend". I've been terrible at keeping in touch with people, and I've bailed on important events simply because I didn't feel like going. But, I have made a conscious effort to change that, and I can honestly say that now I am 100% dedicated to the people I consider friends. I'd like to be able to expect the same in return. That is what friends do, right?

I'm tired of being bailed on. Maybe it's just Karma kicking my ass, but it could possibly be that some people just suck. If you say you're going to do something, do it. If you have a problem with something I've done or said, a friend shouldn't be afraid of insulting me by just telling me. And if you have a problem with my morals, beliefs, or principles...well, we probably weren't gonna be "friends" for very long.

I'm the kind of person who will take a whole day off from work to drive a friend to and from an elective surgery two hours away. I will come watch your dog because you are on lockdown at work, and may not make it home for 3 days, even if it means I have to wake up 20 minutes earlier for work.  I will check your mail and get your packages while you're away. I'll send you a text just to see if you're ok, even though I know you're not. And if I say I'm going to do something for you, I will move heaven and fucking earth to make sure it gets done. So, again, the heart of my vent for the evening- IF YOU SAY YOU'RE GOING TO DO SOMETHING, DO IT. If you want me to be a friend, grow up and be one in return. And if that's too much for you to handle, grow a pair and just say so.

~* Entitled? *~

This is a word that has been thrown around my unhappy home a lot lately. He seems to think I feel entitled to things, and I feel that he thinks he is entitled to things. I don't know who's right or wrong, but it has caused a bunch of arguments and more awkward tension.

So, I'm moving out in about 2 weeks, sometime in the first week of January. I haven't been bitchy about demanding money or anything. He offered to give me some money for my sofa, since his junk is all over it in the garage. But he doesn't have that money yet. He told me I can keep the entire tax return when we file. But he doesn't have that money yet. He told me that if he gets a roommate, I can have the BAH that he would have to give me anyway. But he doesn't have that money yet. And I haven't pushed for any of it, except a little bit for food. Wow, you'd have thought I was trying to pack up his penis and take it with me.

Ok, here's my opinion on this. I didn't even have a job when we got married, so he knew he would be the moneymaker, and that it would fall on him to support me financially. Forturnately, I have been working pretty steadily since then. Unfortunately, I don't make much money. He gets $1300 every month just because he is married. All I'm asking for is enough of that to feed myself. Not really any more than what gets spent to feed me now, actually. He thinks I feel "entitled" to this, but he says he can't afford it. Well...I am entitled to it, right? I could be a total bitch and get all lawyered-up and take half of that BAH every single month for the next twelve months and not care if he can pay his bills or not. But I'm not doing that. Besides...if it weren't for me, he wouldn't even be getting that extra money at all. So, no, I don't think I'm being unreasonable at all. And yes, I do feel a little entitled to just a little bit. This marriage didn't go down the tubes solely because of me, and I shouldn't be punished for it.

Ok, that's my vent.

~* It's His Party...*~

Well, it was, anyway. Yesterday. We celebrated the hubs' 25th birthday. Man, I feel old.

The party was kind of a last-minute thing. We had originally planned to take a weekend and go to the beach. You can do that in November in North Carolina. But, I realized that was really something I wanted to do, and we have been running a little light in the bank accounts, so we decided to do something else. We were going to go to the outlets for a day since the hubs does love to shop, and then do dinner at TGIFridays, because that's where we had our first dinner out together. But then he decided he wanted to have "a few people over". Oh, man.

I am not a good hostess. I know this. I accept this. I am extremely comfortable with this. I have no desire to change this. However, I decided to attempt to compromise this time. It's his birthday, after all. The guy deserves a party. So, I agreed with a few stipulations:

1) NO KIDS
2) I wasn't going to clean up ahead of time, and I wasn't going to clean up afterward.
3) Start early, finish early.
4) Keep it outside. I panic about having that many people inside of the house. I don't know why.

Hmm, I think that sounds simple. But it never really is. There were about a dozen or so people. One guy brought his kid. The kid was quiet, but got into everything, and ended up having a free-standing shelving unit fall on his head. At least it was empty. (The shelving unit, not the kid's head). I didn't clean up ahead of time, but I did have to set up because the hubs is ALWAYS running late. I didn't clean up much afterward, but I did have to bring in some of the food that was left outside. We had people here for 7 freakin' hours. Too damn long. It got cold after it got dark, and rude as it may have been, I came inside and got cozy under a blanket for the last half hour. And, for the most part, people did stay outside, but there were a few times when every guy there was in the house- shots, I presume.

I tried. I really did. I just am not a partier. I don't drink much, and people who are drunk get on my nerves. But, I still think things went fairly well. Nobody puked, nobody got a DUI, nobody crashed on the couch, none of our belongings were destroyed or stolen, and the hubs got the party he wanted. Happy birthday babe ;)

~* Dressing Up As Lazy for Halloween? *~

I don't feel like going into my personal issues today, but I feel like I need to blog a little. So, allow me to vent about Halloween.

I had a few late clients last night, so I was not planning on being home for the trick-or-treat crowd. I had a few cancellations, so I stuck around the gym to workout and waste some time. I turned into my neighborhood around 7:15pm and ran right smack into a freakin' traffic jam.

Now, when I was a kid- a little kid- my parents walked with us from house to house to collect candy. Of course, our neighborhood had sidewalks, which strangely, this one does not. But my parents would NEVER have wasted gas money driving us from one house to the next. Apparently tho, that's the thing to do now.

So, I pull into the neighborhood right into headlights in my eyes. There are cars parked on both sides of the street, forcing me to crawl up the narrow middle of the road. Problem here being that with the headlights in my eyes, I can't see the kids dressed in black as goblins or witches or whatever, playing in the middle of the damn road. And then, there are the kids that don't care that I'm operating a motor vehicle- they will walk directly out in front of me anyway. I have never been more relieved to pull up into my own driveway without blood on my car in my life!

I guess my point here is this: Parents, if you're going to let your kids knock on strangers' front doors, in the dark, and accept their candy...maybe you should hold their hand while they're doing it.

~* All By Myseeeeeeelf.... *~

That's right, the hubs is on staff duty tonight, and he's not expecting to be home until somewhere close to 10am tomorrow.

Usually, I wouldn't be thrilled about this. Tonight...well, tonight I kinda need my space.

This has been a disappointing week, to put it bluntly. Monday was great, as I've mentioned. But as I also mentioned, I knew it wasn't going to last. Tuesday wasn't terrible, but unremarkable. Wednesday was horrid, and Thursday was just...disappointing.

Let me back up. Tuesday really wasn't anything special. Wednesday, I had a late client, and the hubs was late getting home. I made dinner, and he had a friend of his come over. Naturally, I shared our meal. I was pretty much left out of the conversation, so I excused myself and left them to do their "guy" thing. Next thing I know, the hubs decides to show off his guns. In the bedroom. I HATE having people- especially people I don't know- in our bedroom, and he seems to forget that it is OUR bedroom. We've had that conversation more than once. Then, his friend left a little after 9pm. I had to be up at 4am, so I went to go to bed. I gave the hubs about a half hour before I started to wonder what he was up to. He was on the freakin' computer. I couldn't even get a half hour with him before I needed to sleep, but he had time to fuck around on the damn computer. I was livid.

I got over it yesterday, as I usually do given enough time. I suggested we set aside some time for a lunch date next week. He countered with a promise to make the evening better. Shoulda known better. He fell asleep at 7:30pm. I woke him up at about 8pm and practically begged him to spend an hour with me since I was leaving at 5am and wouldn't see him til sometime Saturday. Nope, no chance. He couldn't stay awake.

It's so disheartening to know that if it's something involving his buddies, he can stay awake without a problem, but unless we're having sex, I can't get him to stay awake for one effing hour.

~* These Feelings I Feel *~

I feel like I'm boring myself with all these posts about re-adjusting. But it's only been 3 weeks, and the re-adjusting is still happening.

I feel so alone. The only place I don't feel alone is the gym. That's become my sanctuary. The hubs doesn't push me to work out anymore, I do it on my own. He doesn't even come with me anymore. He's got another guy around to keep him company.

It's crazy, but I'm a little jealous of the roommate. They spend all day at work together, then go to the gym together, then sit at home and drink beer and eat the dinner I cooked. Together. And I'm just on the outside, watching it all and screaming on the inside "WHAT ABOUT ME?!?! DOESN'T ANYONE WANNA PLAY WITH ME???" like the kid left out of the sandbox.

I'm not sure if it's the jealousy or the bitterness at the complete upheaval of my life, but something has sparked a LOT of anger inside of me lately. It's a very uncomfortable feeling for me. I'm a pretty positive, upbeat, chill kinda person, and to feel so much rage makes me a little nauseous. And frankly, I don't handle it well. I've gotten good at walking away from the hubs and the situations at home that make me angry, but I worry that walking away will make me resentful, and ultimately more angry. I usually feel better after a little time away, and sometimes I forget what I was upset about in the first place, but is it really a healthy thing to do?  I don't know. I've thought about going to talk to someone about it, but I'm not sure anyone can help me. I think the only advice I would get would be to communicate with the hubs (tried it, doesn't always work, often the very source of my frustration) or to do exactly what I'm doing, and walk away before saying things I'd regret. I guess only time will tell.

On the upside, my mom and brother are coming to visit this weekend, and I'm looking forward to some quality family time.

~* Stay Calm and Breathe *~

So. This adjustment period is not going smoothly. At all.

The roommate is a slob. My husband is a slob. The roommate's kid is a spoiled brat (not the roommate's fault). I'm caught up in a testosterone tornado and I WANT OUT.

Whoa, not out of my marriage or anything. Just out of the swimming pool of slob I seem to be drowning in.

And it's not just the mess. The hubs seems so negative about EVERYTHING these days. His job. His workouts, The roommate. Even me. And I can't help him, because he has zero interest in talking to me about anything at all. Nothing. At. All.

I feel like we avoid each other. I have tried to stick to my routine. I tried to change it up over the weekend, and got completely frustrated because I didn't get anything done. So, I've decided to stick to what I've been doing because it makes me happy. So, he seems to be home when I'm gone and gone when I'm home. We spent a little time together over the weekend, but it was mostly because we both wanted to get away from the roommate's screaming kid. The strange part is that it's a little irritating that we aren't spending time together, but I don't really mind it. I became very comfortable with my life and where I am while he was gone.

The hardest part to deal with seems to be the sexual stuff. He wants to jump right back into it. He told me he doesn't know how to talk to me about sex, and he doesn't know what turns me on anymore. When I tried to tell him that I want to be wanted on the whole, for more than just sex, he fell asleep. No joke. I was mid-sentence when he started snoring.

All I can do is just breathe. I hope things get better when he gets leave, and finally has some time to get sorted out. I hope someone reads this before going through it all. It's a lot tougher than anyone prepared me for.