It's a GAD GAD World
Saturday, February 02, 2008
 
IF ONLY...IF ONLY...
I think I mentioned a few posts ago that the Cute Guy (yeah, him again) was in a theatre production. Periodically I check his blog to see what the cast is up to. Not because I'm still checking on HIM necessarily, but because I'm still friendly with his brother & I like to know what's going on with him and the rest of their flock.

I got 2 unpleasant surprises. First, the theatre production is no longer running. And here I was still recommending it to people. Shows you how in the loop I am. Secondly, Cute Guy just got back from a faraway trip where he did something amazing. Something I could have helped him with if only I had known about it. If only I hadn't terrorized the living bejeezus out of him nearly 3 years ago by just my being me.

If only I were capable of doing something great, then maybe people would want to be with me. I have some good qualities, but they lie in the attic of my psyche collecting dust because no one wants them. I see people in my life who are in need, and I offer whatever assistance I can give to them on a silver platter, and they say "no thanks" and walk away. It's like I'm trying to sell hockey skates in Africa or something.

I have burned through so many friendships because I was the one in need, and people got tired of me taking. Yet when I'm capable of giving, no one's interested.

Now for something completely different. Last night, the local news did a spot on recycling scavengers and how the NYPD is cracking down on them. Apparently the city makes money off the recyclables that are left curbside, and anyone who takes the recyclables is taking money out of the city's pocket. It's punishable by a fine of up to $2,000.

This scared the shit out of me. Nearly all the furniture in my apartment is stuff I scavenged from the curb. And I've been known to filch grocery coupons out of refuse so I don't have to cough up money for a Sunday paper that I'm not going to read and would go straight to recycling anyway. At least there's not a fine yet for going through public garbage. That's where I get most of my coupons. It's illegal to go through residential garbage, but commercial and/or public garbage (like, a garbage can on a street corner) is OK. As far as I know. If I get slapped with a $2,000 fine for grabbing coupons, I'll be sure to let you know.

Since the First Idiot revealed his plan to give everyone a tax rebate, I've been thinking about what I would want to do with the money. I've decided I want to buy a new bed. I've been sleeping on a damn futon for the past 7 years and I'm sick of it. I figure that between the rebate and whatever I receive in tax refunds, I'll be able to finance at least half of it. (The bed I want, combied with mattress, headboard, and delivery is going to run me about $1,000. I may be able to hold off on the mattress by using the mattress that's on my futon.)

Now, in order for me to buy the bed, I've got to get rid of a shitload of stuff so I'll have someplace to put the damn thing. So I decided that step 1 would be to clean out my closet. It's a tiny little thing with a slanted ceiling because it sits directly underneath the stairwell of my building. So I took out all of my clothes so I could deal with the boxes & shit that were stuffed in the back of it.

And that's when big fat reality (and I do mean big and fat) hit me in the face. Or rather, the ass. Just for the hell of it, I decided to try on the business suit I wore to the interview that landed me my current job. I couldn't get into the skirt. I literally couldn't get it over my ass. I didn't even try on the jacket. That would have depressed me even further.

I know I have to do something about my weight. But what? I have no frigging clue how to do this, short of starving myself. I refuse to set foot in a gym. Ever since New Year's Day I've been logging my 10,000 steps religiously onto my pedometer. I have a workout tape (episodes of Body Electric & Homestretch that I taped off PBS about 15 years ago), but I never use it because there's no space on my floor to work out.

Lately I've noticed that I look worse than usual, too. I mean, I've always been fat, but now it's really starting to show in the mirror. The number on the scale hasn't budged--I'm still at 225. I just look worse. Doughier.

And I can't build muscle tone to save my life. Even when I actually made an effort to lose weight, I just got smaller, not buffer. When I first graduated from college it shocked me to realize that I had gained 30 pounds from the time I was a freshman. So I made a conscious effort to lose weight. (Hence taping the workouts from PBS.) But I was in my early 20s then and my metabolism was a hell of a lot better. And I wasn't working, which meant I had time to get up in the morning & turn on the TV to work out.

My computer's acting funny. I'd better post before the connection quits on me.

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