Body, Budget, & Bridget

I was going to write about my trip to Connecticut in my last post, but then my break-up got in the way. So I’ll sum it up. I took a plane by myself (which I’ve done many times before, but it always feels like an accomplishment). My parents were thrilled to see me. It was extremely weird that I was visiting them in a house other than the one I grew up in. One evening, I made “Jolly Ranchers” (Midori and cranberry juice) for my parents and youngest brother (he’s 18… but he’s in college, which is the real drinking age in this country) and we watched The Office on DVD. Despite our best efforts, my mother and I did not find a Halloween costume for me. I can now do a decent impression of an East Coast Jewish mother, should I ever feel the urge to do so. My mother and I saw the movie Once at a $4 theater, and found it to be a lovely and moving work. I brought back most of my winter clothing to Chicago, making my suitcase overweight (58lbs… the limit is 50lbs), so I had to take some hideous but oh-so-warm nightgowns out and give them back to my mother in the middle of the airport (I only got it down to 52lbs, but they didn’t charge me the $50 fee since I made the effort. And I think the woman at the Delta counter felt sorry for my embarrassment regarding the ridiculous bedtime apparel). I realized later that I’d accidentally smuggled a contraband bottle of perfume onto the plane in my carry-on (the TSA people insisted on putting my lotion, toothpaste, and Tide stain remover pen into a plastic baggie, but somehow this mid-size spray-bottle of actual liquid escaped their attention. Yay for having a mom-purse!). And then I had to schlep my oversized suitcase through the airport, upstairs, downstairs, onto the L, down some stairs, on the subway, down some more stairs at my stop, and then a few blocks to my apartment, while also carrying a purse and messenger bag containing my laptop. And somehow, my body didn’t hate me in the morning.

In contrast, my whole body feels achy today, and for no good reason. My lower back hurts, which is a chronic problem of mine (there is a diagnosed medical reason for that). And for some reason, my legs are sore. I actually woke up this morning because of my leg pain. At 8:00am. On a weekend. Gah! The only reason I can think of that may be behind this pain is the stair-climbing I’ve been doing lately… and even that answer leaves something to be desired.

On workdays, I’ve been taking the stairs on my way to lunch. There are eleven flights of stairs between the floor I work on and the floor the cafeteria is on. I walk down the stairs to get lunch (piece of cake, just time-consuming), and then I walk back up the stairs with lunch in hand. Tough stairs, man. I start breathing audibly around the fifth flight, and I have to take a break around the eighth. And every day a new part of me hurts as a result of it. One day it was my hips. One day it was my high-heel muscles (obviously I never studied anatomy, so my first thought is to associate the pain with other times I’ve felt it, as opposed to naming the actual body part, hence “high heel muscles.” I’m not even sure it’s all muscles… I think there’s a tendon or something in there). But I thought my body had gotten used to it. I haven’t had any pain at all in the last few days, so I assumed I had adapted. Why does it hurt now? Maybe I slept strangely.

Why have I made the masochistic decision to take the stairs instead of using one of the six elevators like everyone else? I’ve gotten it into my head that I’m chubby. Don’t try to talk me out of that, because it won’t work. I have now gotten to the heaviest I’ve ever been. I had to break down and buy new pants so that I’m not wearing my elastic-waist skirts through the cold months.

So, in an act of desperation that I never thought I’d bring myself to, I’m starting to do something about it. Baby steps, mind you. I still love food and loathe exercise, but I’m making adjustments. For the last two weeks, I’ve been eating healthy food while at work (still snacking every hour, but now it’s on dried cranberries and granola instead of Sun Chips and Twinkies). I’ve cut out caffeine altogether. I’m drinking at least 32oz of water every day. I’m eating (some) foods in the proper “serving size” amounts listed on the label (Note: a normal container of Vitamin Water is 2.5 servings! And my microwavable soups are 2 servings! Liars! No one eats like that. And what’s the deal with tubs of ice cream saying there are 8 servings? The way I eat them, there are 3… or 4, if I make an effort to stretch it… No wonder I’m chubby). I’m walking around downtown every day after work (unless it’s cold… or too windy… or raining…). And I’m taking those gosh darn stairs (Note: I can’t take them from the ground floor in the morning because of the way security is set up in my building. But I do sometimes take them down to the ground after work, which is roughly thirteen flights).

Another big problem in my life right now, aside from my bulging blubber body (okay fine, I’m exaggerating, but I feel like a whale) is controlling my budget. I make pretty good money at my job, and I’m better at saving than many of my peers are (a few of my friends have to borrow money from their parents in between paychecks), but I’m worried that I’m not saving enough. I get paid twice a month. One of those pay checks is completely annihilated by my rent, bills, and transportation costs. The other paycheck goes for food, clothes (which I have to buy now that I’ve gotten into a whole new set of sizes), entertainment, and whatever else.

I actually have a good amount of money saved right now, but I keep thinking about it the way I thought of saved money as a child: money meant to be spent. It’s hard to save money for nothing. It’s not like I’m saving up to buy a mountain bike or an iPod (which, actually, I’m probably going to blow some savings on in the next week… I can listen to it at my desk with the current project I’m fiddling with, so it’s really a work-related expense). I don’t have a goal of something to buy. I’m saving because I think I’m supposed to. And it’s so frustrating to have that money but then act like it isn’t there. It’s weird to be thrifty in order to save money that I’m not in dire need of saving. I feel like I should just improve my quality of life instead of saving so much, but that seems foolishly shortsighted.

On my trip back from Connecticut, I read the book Bridget Jones’ Diary, which I’d never read before. It was a good read and quite different from the movie if I remember correctly, although I only watched it once and that was five or six years ago (in my living room with Kate Grady, while all our friends went to the Sadie Hawkins Dance). When I saw the movie back in high school, I kept thinking that Bridget was sort of a loser, who kept making horrible choices and was too worried about everything. Reading the book now, I am Bridget. She’s worried about her expenditure, her caloric intake, and her love life. Her career is something she fell into, her self-esteem is perilously unstable, and her romantic relationships are perpetually in flux. Aside from keeping a daily journal to record my commitment to my recent resolutions, I feel as though I’m walking in her shoes (and I suppose it could be argued that this blog is my version of her journal… but hey, at least I’m not keeping track of the calories I’ve consumed here).

Throughout Bridget’s chronicled year, she struggles to find something that she refers to as “inner-poise”. As soon as I read that phrase, I knew that I wanted it, too. I’m not even sure as to exactly what it is, but I know I don’t have it yet. I think that maybe I need a way to focus my life more. I always have about four personal projects in motion. I give my attention to the one thing that seems most consequential at the moment (the current trump: fighting with my body) and then, often before much progress is made, I shuffle my priorities around. Maybe the trick is to just take on one big project at a time, and let everything else become secondary.

In an effort to get things rolling, I signed up for NaNoWriMo today, which is probably the stupidest thing I could’ve done. The goal of National Novel Writing Month is to write a 175-page, 50,000-word novel during the month of November. Quantity is more important than quality (and, as you know from reading my writing, quantity is something I’m fully capable of). But you basically have to sign a month of your life away if you want to succeed. I’m only mentioning this in my blog because I think I’m more likely to actually try to do this if people know that I’m trying it. It’s a lot easier to give up in silence. By announcing it, I have something to prove. Even if I don’t make it until the end, I’m going to push to get through the first couple of weeks. It’s like a marathon… I haven’t trained properly, so I might not finish my first time. But then next year, I’ll be ready. If anyone reading this is going to give NaNoWriMo a try, please let me know. I would really love to have a buddy to do it with. It’ll keep us both motivated (I sound as if I’m talking about dieting or going to the gym. In reality, this is more like volunteering for a lengthy homework assignment… wait, why am I doing this again?).

Anyway. If this blog doesn’t get updated for awhile in November, now you’ll know why.

May you always be able to keep your resolutions, no matter when in the year you make them.

~A~