Facebook is Passive Aggressive And We All Know It

Aaah Facebook.  What can I say about this snooper’s paradise that hasn’t already been said?  We all love it and hate it at the same time.

Sure, it has its good points. Wishing someone a happy birthday, happy anniversary, announcing the birth of a child, the passing of a loved one, sharing pics of our newest furry addition to the family, sharing recipes, positing holiday pics.  It’s all butterflies and rainbows, right?

Every rose, alas, has it’s thorns.  Here’s the stuff that bugs the ever lovin’ crap out of me on Facebook.

Stay at home moms that post one million times a day. It’s endearing that your little prodigy has learned to stuff peas up his nose, but you’re killing my news feed. Besides, shouldn’t you be paying attention to your kid?

New romances.  Watching two grown adults fuss and coo all over social media is nauseating.  It also smacks disingenuous.  Keep that stuff for yourselves, we aren’t in high school anymore and it makes it hard to take you seriously.

The post break up verbal diarrhea. I know you’re in pain and he/she probably was a world class arsehole. In a couple months though, you’re going to read your posts and realize you sounded a little unhinged and very Glenn Close-ish a la Fatal Attraction.

Last but not least, those stupid fracking chain letter type messages.  I just got one last night.  Here it is:

Close Friend Day

F*ck sakes.  Anybody who knows me well would know better than to send me this corny crap.  So now the pressure is on.  If I ignore it, I will out myself as the biggest a-hole on the planet.

You know what the funniest thing about this chain letter is?  The person who sent it to me spoke to me a total of two times in the past twelve months.  For real.  How does that make me a close friend?

To me, sending something like this is the equivalent of saying “I’m a big insecure wuss and I need to know how many people like me”.  Want to know if people like you?  Talk to them.  Spend time with them.  Don’t send this cringe worthy crap and expect an honest response.

I’d much prefer getting something like this


This I can relate to.  It’s real.  It appeals to my sarcastic, dry sense of humour.

Sending me a virtual rose signals two things;

1 – you’re trying to get in my pants (I can barely fit in there myself let alone fit someone else in there, so sooorrry, not gonna happen)

2 – you have no clue who I am. (have we even actually met?)

We are grown ass women.  Let’s get real here, shall we?

I know I sound cynical, maybe I am . Would you in real up close and personal face to face time just bring me a rose for no reason?  I didn’t think so.

Happy Thursday, all!










I Did It!

You know I was getting desperate for change/movement/company when…I join a running clinic.

Yup! I did it!  I joined Running Room’s Learn to Run Clinic.  We meet Mondays, Wednesdays and Sundays.  The test of my commitment will come on Sundays.  We meet at 8:30 a.m. Ugh..

I was super nervous all day.  What if I can’t keep up?  What if my feet and shins start to ache so bad that I can’t finish?  What if everyone there is super slim with long lean legs and I am the group Oompa Loompa?

Turns out, all that garbage that took so much place in my thoughts was just that…garbage. We are a small group of women, and everyone is of a different shape and size. No super model uber athletic chicks.  Just real people with a need to move and get social. These ladies are super nice and down to earth. I felt so comfortable with them.

So, that was my first experience with them.  I don’t want to speak too soon, but I think I might have found something that I can really enjoy and be devoted to.  There is something about running in a group that is uber motivating and empowering.  Hey, maybe after this clinic, I will sign up for the 5K clinic.  One day at a time!


Oh yes, yes of COURSE those are my legs…bahahaha!


It’s Baaaaack

What comes to mind when you hear that phrase?  Either way, it’s rarely a fun thing.

As for myself, when I utter that sentence it is always in reference to the same thing. Anxiety.

The last thing I want to do is wallow in this and throw a pity party. To be honest, I am really fed up of this cycle. I have been off meds since the prodigal moved out in May, so a little over three months.

It’s all sunshine and rainbows during the Summer and Spring. Fall and Winter though…a whole other can of worms.  That’s actually pretty gross. Worms are bad enough on their own, but a can full of them…blurgh..

I am determined to go med free as long as I possibly can. The tendency is to wuss out and run to the doctor for a renewal of my prescription as soon as my comfort zone exits stage left.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m am not saying that people who need meds to function on a daily basis are pussies.  I have had bouts of situational depression and it is like hell on earth.  My heart goes out to folks who feel like that day after day with no relief.

In my case though, I know that I just have to keep myself and my mind busy, and need to have something to look forward to.

The main reason I don’t want to continue with meds is because I don’t want to be a little old lady in a nursing home one day, relying on some intern to give me my meds on time, or to forget about giving me my meds. Cold turkey withdrawal from this particular little yellow pill is horrible.

So, wish me luck getting through it.  It’s just a sprinkling of anxiety at the moment.  I hae to keep reminding myself it will pass and not focus so much on it.   Exercise helps, the endorphin kicks in really fast and I feel like I’m on top of the world afterwards.


A Doughnut Kind of Day

I have a confession to make.  I did it.  I ate a doughnut yesterday.  Not a big deal, right?

Here’s the thing. My office is located right across the street from a Tim Horton’s.  I have worked at my company for 10 years and not once have I ordered a doughnut.   Coffee, yes (although McDonald’s coffee is hands down the best, as well as their cheery disposition at the drive through), muffins, soup and the occasional sandwich.  Doughnut?Never.

Why? I’m not sure. Guilt I guess.  I feel like if I order a doughnut the gates of Hades will open up and swallow me and my doughnut up.  I won’t even get to taste it, so it will all be a huge waste of time and money.  Ok, I’m kidding.  You know that, right?

I have never ordered one because I know they must have about a trillion calories and fat grams. Why push it?  I’m having a hard enough time losing weight. Secretly I also fear everyone in the place will collectively gasp, stop what they are doing, stand up and point at me while shouting “YOU SHOULDN’T BE EATING THAT, FATTY!”  Yes, that is truly how my mind works.

Yesterday though, was the mother of bad horrible crap days at work.  We have recently migrated to a new thingamabob doohickie and all systems are running at either slow or stop.  I came this close to tearing said thingamabob doohickie out of its socket, throwing it across the parking lot and driving my car over it back and forth.

My colleague was feeling the same way.  So we both concurred that a trip to Timmie’s for a Boston Cream doughnut would be the answer to our growing hatred of thingamabob doohickie.

Colleague said she didn’t feel like walking; we might get caught in the rain.  Walk? Girlfriend, we are DRIVING an entire three minutes away.  It was just that kind of day, folks.  We needed that doughnut. Stat.

Here’s the thing, part 2. That particular Timmies has a freaking witch at the drive through counter.  The type you’d like to throw the spare change right at her forehead.  I digress…off we went, ordered our Boston Cream doughnuts, and drove back to the office.

We got to the kitchen, opened our bags and……she gave us the wrong fracking doughnut.  We were sold an imposter.  They slipped us the Maple Boston Cream Doughnut. Sneaky bitch.

Oh well, desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess.  We ate them anyway. Not as you would think, by hoovering in a nanosecond. Oh no, this type of stress called for slow and deliberate consumption.  We didn’t even sit down.  Just leaned against the counters and enjoyed. You had to be there.  It was practically orgasmic.  Rapture, really. Take that, stupid thingamabob doohickie induced stress.

It was worth every calorie.

Canadian Maple Cream Donut. Served in "Tim Hortons"

Fake Boston Cream Doughnut – sneaky wannabe.

Embracing the Void

Well, this funk I am in seems to be settling in for the long haul.  What is up with me?  I just can’t seem to shake this feeling.

Sunday evening was the worst. I sat on the front step with my iPad, reading.  The kitties were enjoying the fresh air and munching on the grass (only to toss their cookies minutes afterwards – why do cats do this?)

My funk turned into a deep sadness and sense of desperation.  I started worrying that this feeling would never go away.  I was mindlessly thumbing through memes and images and stumbled across this.


All of a sudden, it makes sense. I’m not saying that it feels any better, but it makes sense.  I keep trying to keep these feelings at arms length and avoid them at any cost. Something tells me that until I learn to truly embrace solitude, it will forever hound me.

My life is in re-set mode.  My nest is empty, my friends are still there, but are probably going through their own stuff as well, some are becoming grandparents (yikes!), some have met new loves and are caught up in that.

Maybe this feeling is greater than me. Like a child being preparing for his first day of school, clinging tightly to the hand of his parent, scared, but knowing this is a necessary step in growth, maybe this is God, the universe, karma, destiny (whatever) way of saying to let old things fall away and to be open to a new way of life.

Change is inevitable in all things.  It’s not easy, but I think if I learn to accept it for what it is, I can keep my eyes and heart open.  I think a person has to fully embrace and accept a situation in order to be able to get through it. Walk with it, hand in hand and then before you know it, it leaves your side and in walks sweet relief and joy once more.

Monday Weigh-in 183.4…

Ugh…I’m sure I am going to explode soon.  However, here we go again.  Trying.  Will never stop trying.  So off I go to work, with my cut up veggies as a snack, my lunch carefully measured and tracked.

I know this system works, but only if I adhere to it.

Weather permitting, I will be walking on my lunch hours after eating.

Kind of a boring post today, but I’ve been hiding the non weight loss part of my so called weight loss journey.  Time to face the music and do the walk of shame when warranted and the happy dance when applicable.

Have an awesome Monday!

Fat Shaming Myself

I am thinking of changing the name of my blog.  If I did, it would be called my non-weight loss journey.  I mean,cheese and rice, I have been playing back and forth with five pounds since January.

Clearly, I am the most undisciplined creature on the planet.  For shame.

So what gives?  Is it menopause?  Like most women in my family, I got that early in life. Not that I am complaining!

Maybe I have just become lazy?

So, I have to go back to basics. That means tracking the food. Every day.  It also means putting the kabosh on the sedentary life after work.  A couple years ago I was in such good shape.  I was at aquafit twice a week, the gym twice a week and I either hiked or kayaked every weekend.

When I think of it now, it makes me just plain tired. I feel like I’ve done so much racing around back and forth for so many years.  I just want to rest now.  I just don’t want to become a whale while I’m at it.

So, what is the happy medium?  I’m still trying to figure that one out.

I went to the gym Saturday and had a good work out.  I love the abs machines.  However, this is the second time now that I get horrible stomach and lower back pain after using one particular piece of equipment.  I mean, PAIN.  Then my tummy gets all swollen and tender to the touch.

I guess its true what they say, you gotta use it or lose it.  Consistent exercise, even moderate, probably causes a lot less wear and tear than sporadic and more strenuous.

If you look through my pantry, you won’t find much by way of processed foods.  Same goes for my fridge.  So what’s the problem?  Is it the portions?  The fat content? I don’t know, I’m at a loss.

Maybe it’s the fear of success?  Is that really a thing?  Or an excuse people use?  All I know for certain is after a work out, I feel great.  I have more mobility, sleep better, even stand taller, if that’s possible.

I know what I have to do, I just need the kick in the arse to do it.  I need to move more, its crucial for me, always has been.

You see, I don’t just want to be thinner, I want to have a strong body.  Strong is sexy.  I’ve always thought that, even before it was a trend.

I have a friend who prides herself on never gaining weight.  She also had the nasty habit of eating only once a day, smoked cigarettes and drank coffee all day long. She has all sorts of training equipment in her basement and I know she uses it.

Yes, she is slender. Her muscle tone though….zero.  There is no definition in her arms or legs.  She’s soft and white and mushy.  Like dough.

Show me a girl who is a little heavier but with a little tone and definition and that, to me, is what healthy looks like.  It looks like someone who is enjoying life and grabbing it by the balls.

So, I had better get hopping on what it is I know I need to do, before I become irreversibly doughy myself