I recently attended a trade seminar that hosted a distinguished group of panelists discussing their careers. One of the invited speakers was a best-selling author, a woman in her late forties. Another panelist, a long-time friend and colleague, filled his introduction about her with accolades. He pumped her up like a Popeye balloon in a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, tauting her many achievements, including several impressive awards and a starring role in a television series. Then she chimed in, “And I’m very single!”
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I was at lunch at one of my favorite repeateries with my husband and his mother. Our server, a nice young man, had no problem helping us whatsoever--so he said. No matter what our request, he said, “no problem,” beginning with when he took our order. My mother-in-law had the grilled chicken sandwich with mayonnaise--“no problem”. I had a burger with cheese--“no problem”. My husband ordered the tilapia that came with a side salad. When the server asked what kind of dressing he wanted, my husband replied, “blue cheese”, to which the server said, “no problem,” which we found rather odd since it shouldn’t be a problem to order salad dressing to go with a side salad. Then we mused that perhaps it could’ve been a problem had it been ranch or honey-mustard or even thousand island, because not all restaurants provide every dressing to satisfy every taste. Fortunately for us, blue cheese was “no problem” and we were grateful for that. |
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I woke up at four o’clock this morning, as I sometimes do. I’ve heard that women all over the world wake up at four in the morning. I don’t know why four is the magic number, but supposedly it is. My eyes popped open, as if it were time to get up. But no, I still had three more hours to go.
Tell that to my body. It was restless, ready to start the day. My eyes were tired and knew that they were short-changed on sleep. I flip-flopped for while, pulling the bottom end of the top sheet out from under the mattress. It was too hot. I turned on the ceiling fan. Then it felt drafty. Sigh. |
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"I don’t need any of it, and it’s just one more way to spend money unnecessarily. I’ve never ordered from this catalogue, not even once. The company might not make a sale, but it’s obvious I’m buying into something."
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Once upon a time, not too too long ago, I was a sexy, gorgeous babe -- or so I thought. I was all about lookin' good in my short shorts and slinky spandex. For someone who had been overweight most of my life, I enjoyed the heck out of being thin and worked hard to stay there. I pumped iron with purpose, jogged the soles off my running shoes, and barely carried on a conversation unless it was about fat grams and calorie intake. I was obsessed with my body. Just ask my friends. |
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