Been tracking. Also been over-eating by 100 - 300 calories per day. And that is amazingly low for how much stuff is going on with life lately.
I had another emotional crash this week. The job I was holding out so much hope for (they basically told me I had the job), didn't come through. I was SO upset about it. I had made income projections with Mister. We had made three game plans - The new doc + old doc, the new doc + old doc + car dealership, and JUST old doc.
Comparing the plans made it pretty obvious that we are going to burn through savings pretty quick if I didn't get the new doc job. So I felt devastated. Mister is relying on me to help finance both of us. He is doing his thing, but it's the kind of business where we won't see return for about 3 - 4 months and even then, it's just return, It will probably be a year before we start seeing profits. Which KILLS ME.
The email breaking the bad news came in while we were in the car on the way to go take a drug test for another job. Then insert the panic of will I pass the drug test. Let's just say there was a pretty delicious brownie at my going away party about a month ago that was consumed by me without knowing HOW delicious and magical that brownie was beforehand.
Pee in cup.
On the way home, I cried a little. Expressed my want to eat the entire world to Mister. We went through the cravings food by food. He said "Let's get home and then decide."
I got home and just wanted to collapse, go numb, watch netflix and sleep the rest of the day away just to get away from the disappointment. That's how securely I felt I had that job. And that's how severely I am pressuring myself to get us financially stable/independent.
I gave Mister the power of food choices after I got a good bit of pouting out. I told him he was in charge of food decisions for the rest of the day. He willingly accepted that.
We skipped lunch because I refused to stop applying for jobs long enough to talk to him, let alone eat. I sent out 18 applications - Target, Harbor Freight, Craigslist postings.
Eventually I got an email from the temp agency. They had an interview for me the next morning. It was a ray of light amid the depressing overcast of the day.
Will ordered us a pizza that night. It was the compromise. It was an emotional food, but less calorically damaging than all of the other things I had asked for. I wound up being 300-ish over the daily amount.
I went to the interview. Rocked it.
When I finished, I had a voicemail from another job application asking me to come in for an interview - Grow Med Spa... A marijuana dispensary? I tried googling it and there was nothing with that name.
I called them back. "ProMed Spa how may I help you?" Ohhh... PRO med spa.. this is sounding more like a doctor's office. That makes sense. I googled it, still nothing. I googled the address... Pearl Med Spa - one of those clinics that specializes in plastic surgery, hair removal and skin treatments.
They booked me for an interview that afternoon. Now let me just break this down for you... I'm a pretty natural girl. I shave my legs when I want to, I wear makeup when the occasion calls for it, I'm not afraid of "fine lines and wrinkles." I don't think that beauty is looking a certain way. Beauty is eminating acceptance and celebration of ones body and self.
So basically, I'm the PERFECT candidate for a cosmetic surgery center. HA.
I went in for the interview. The women behind the desk were 40 year olds with the faces of 30 year olds (you can tell by the hands). I instantly knew I didn't have the job. I sat in the waiting room, listening to the conversations with patients.
"Of course you're going to need it for your neck and chest now too, I mean, we want them to match your face, right?"
"I see that it's time to do the *insert frenchy word* for the skin around the eyes."
The interviewer was Joan Rivers 3 face lifts ago, cheek implants, nose job, I mean, the work was kind of obvious and looks like it's been done more than once.
All I could think was "CONNIE AND CARLA!" One of my favorite movies ever. It is SO campy. They are hiding from a hitman as women dressed as men dressed as women (lady drag queens) and do fun little musical comedy shows. "Ladies, let your face wrinkle, let your skin crinkle. Your lines show that you've lived and if he doesn't love you when your face looks like a map, tell him to HIT THE ROAD!"
Girls, You are beautiful. You are a testiment of your life. I advocate nothing besides embracing yourself and doing what makes you feel best. Please don't tell yourself you will finally be beautiful "If only.." You are beautiful NOW. Take a second. Look in a mirror and stay there until your nasty "improvement" thoughts stop and you can accept yourself in whatever state you are already in.
Embrace the curves. Embrace the skin. Embrace the hair. Embrace those things that make you different, unconventional.
I wish I had my thoughts more put together for that interview... or just walked out. I have a visceral response to the message they send to their clients. It is the opposite of what we are trying to do here.
I got another voicemail while I was sitting there with Joan... I got the job at the Chevrolet dealer. No worries about the going away party treat and a slight respite from the pressure of making more money. It is EXTREMELY part-time. 16.5 hours per week at $10 per hour. But it is something.
Now I can stop feeling so frenetic and focus more. Start structuring life around the hours I work. Start talking to people and getting that social release.
I am getting antsy to have this ankle heal. In the past 2 days I have had the want to just RUN. I wish I could just RUN... like... go for an interval run or something to help me cope with all this build up, release the anxiety. I am feeling weak and old. I am ready to turn that around.
This week the goal is to get health insurance and schedule a doctor's visit to get this ankle looked at to make sure it's just a sprain.
If you read this far... I'm impressed. You deserve a cookie and a pat on the back. Thanks for hanging in there with me.
Big Fat Love,