In the spirit of The Gap's new campaign, I am thinking of creating a t-shirt with the logo "TI(RED)". I searched through the pile at The Gap -- INSPI(RED), DESI(RED) -- none of them applied to me. I don't feel inspired to do much more than sleep. The excessive Eeyore like pouting and Rip Van Winkle like sleeping also leave me less than desirable.
Is this a "30-something" something?
Here are just a few things I am TI(RED) of:
* seeing headlines about how thin or fat movie stars have become
* caring more about Reese Witherspoon's marraige than my own
* getting huge overstuffed envelopes of coupons in the mail
* actually opening the huge overstuffed envelope full of coupons and throwing them out one by one
* blow drying my hair
* packing up leftovers, not eating them and then having to clean out rotten food
* snooze buttons
* the endless supply of fur my animals have to shed
* the impossibility of even being able to vacuum up all of the animal hair
* the NE Patriots
* Rosie O'Donnell
* ughn, this post
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Friday, January 05, 2007
Feelin' a little Monkish
As part of my triathlon training program, I have to learn to swim. This week was my first swim lesson. I almost didn't go because I was filled with so much anxiety. Do I even have a swimsuit that fits? Will the pool people judge my flabby physique? Do I need to freshen up my bikini wax? How long can I keep my stomach sucked in? Do I bring the towel in the pool area with me or leave it in the locker room? Do I need flip flops, a swim cap, goggles?
Finally, I tore myself out of the house and arrived at the Y. Under my oversized sweats I was sporting a tangerine colored Adidas swim suit that I had bought 5 years ago when I originally decided to learn to swim. It had never been worn outside of my room before. I walked to the locker room, still filled with apprehension. I didn't want to be late, but, didn't want to be too early either. I was hoping to spy some classmates and follow their lead. After a few minutes I heard the voice of someone talking about teaching the adult swim class.
My fears were immediately quelled as I introduced myself and began having some of my questions answered. Also, she was there with her children and, uh, not endowed with a swimmer's body. In fact, she was quite large. I know this is completely unfair of me. Still, her size helped my ridiculous body image issues immensely.
Size aside, she was a really great teacher. Somehow, she managed to keep me at ease, actually teach me stuff and manage her three young children all at once. I learned a ton in 45 minutes. I actually floated for the first time ever. Plus, I now get the idea about how to breathe while I swim. It could be that I am on a first lesson high, but, I can't help but feel that the triathlon can be a reality now and not just an untouchable dream.
On the other hand, something quite disturbing happened during our lesson. In addition to learning how to breathe, I was told that I had to spit. Even now as I think about it I feel a bit nauseous. I don't spit. I don't like to see others spit. I really don't even like to think about spit or people spitting. I have a 6 month old son and his drool disgusts me. At this lesson, I had to stand and watch my instructor demonstrate something called "bobbing". During this demonstration she was spitting and explaining the importance of spitting. Clearly I had to ask if there was enough clorine in the water to accommodate for all of the spit. I had hoped the answer would be a resounding "yes". However, the answer was, "don't think about it". Well, now that's all I can think about.
So, the triathlon is within reach as long as I can get over my fears of fat and spit.
Finally, I tore myself out of the house and arrived at the Y. Under my oversized sweats I was sporting a tangerine colored Adidas swim suit that I had bought 5 years ago when I originally decided to learn to swim. It had never been worn outside of my room before. I walked to the locker room, still filled with apprehension. I didn't want to be late, but, didn't want to be too early either. I was hoping to spy some classmates and follow their lead. After a few minutes I heard the voice of someone talking about teaching the adult swim class.
My fears were immediately quelled as I introduced myself and began having some of my questions answered. Also, she was there with her children and, uh, not endowed with a swimmer's body. In fact, she was quite large. I know this is completely unfair of me. Still, her size helped my ridiculous body image issues immensely.
Size aside, she was a really great teacher. Somehow, she managed to keep me at ease, actually teach me stuff and manage her three young children all at once. I learned a ton in 45 minutes. I actually floated for the first time ever. Plus, I now get the idea about how to breathe while I swim. It could be that I am on a first lesson high, but, I can't help but feel that the triathlon can be a reality now and not just an untouchable dream.
On the other hand, something quite disturbing happened during our lesson. In addition to learning how to breathe, I was told that I had to spit. Even now as I think about it I feel a bit nauseous. I don't spit. I don't like to see others spit. I really don't even like to think about spit or people spitting. I have a 6 month old son and his drool disgusts me. At this lesson, I had to stand and watch my instructor demonstrate something called "bobbing". During this demonstration she was spitting and explaining the importance of spitting. Clearly I had to ask if there was enough clorine in the water to accommodate for all of the spit. I had hoped the answer would be a resounding "yes". However, the answer was, "don't think about it". Well, now that's all I can think about.
So, the triathlon is within reach as long as I can get over my fears of fat and spit.
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