enough!

Yesterday, I was angrily washing dishes after having angrily eaten very lackluster takeout food that cost $38. I was kicking myself for having spent that much (granted, it fed 4 of us)+for having so many freaking dishes (there are only 3 of us living there most of the time) to wash.

I thought: I'VE HAD ENOUGH!

I shouldn't have brought home takeout (gummy, suspect chicken; slimy sauces; too much broccoli to serve as a filler to the 'meat' dishes - ARGH!). I should have made dinner. Or had some leftover from another dinner that I made during the weekend. I should have had a somewhat clean kitchen before we ate so cleanup wasn't such a hassle.

I was looking around my kitchen while R+I were eating at the table+Lorelai+Nyia were eating in the front of the house. Junky dinner, messy kitchen, rushed dinner, separate seating. Enough!

Then there were the dishes. The weekend dishes+the dishes from the crappy dinner. Too many dishes! ENOUGH!

Then there was no dessert. I'm not really a sweets person, but sometimes I want a piece of dark chocolate with some sea salt on it. There was none to be found. ENOUGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

I've had enough.

I am a grown up with a kid. I'm still learning how to do things. I mean, Lorelai+I have made it this far without too many trips to the hospital or food poisoning. I somehow wrangled a hot+funny guy to move in+we mostly function like a family. His kids come over+it's hard at times but it is awesome. I'm happy. I'm grateful. Etc.

But, I'm not necessarily ok with how integral home things are going. I need to cook more. I need to spend less. I want cool furniture+a great bathroom+nice dishes. On a straw-that-broke-the-camels-back moment, while I was kinda scraping off the congealed ambiguous goo from the over-vegetabled meat dish last night, I came to the conclusion that I need to stop 'getting by' + I need to start 'settling in.'

I want evenings+mornings to be less rushed, because sometimes those are the only times during the week I get to see Lorelai (she goes to her dad's some weekends).

I want to cook more. I live with a chef. Like, a real live chef. But I NEED to know how to contribute in GOOD ways to what we eat. I mean. I've done fine, obviously. Lorelai ain't starving. But historically, we've eaten out at least once a week+the dinners that I make are so... blah. BLAH! Not unhealthy. Just, blah.

I want our house to be comfortable+inviting. It just feels like a college dorm right now. It's embarrassing at times, to me. GIVE ME COMFORT+WARM COLORZ!

How will I achieve this life change that I've totally blabbed about on here before?

With a list, of course! These are the things that came to me while I was scrubbing dishes+trying not to slam things:

• Shop at the farmers market. There's a few every week. We have some of the best food in the world here. I gotta use it. Shop at the store less.
• $10/day. This is for miscellaneous stuff that I buy throughout the day. Lunch, snacks, gum, magazines, whatever. I'm limiting myself to $10/day. What I don't spend, goes into a jar+goes back to the bank at the end of the pay cycle. I've done this before. It was a rewarding challenge.
• Buy for the long term. This is re: home stuff. Stop taking stuff cus it's cheap/free/cute.
• Make stuff: food, clothes, stuff for around the house.
• Slow down.
• CLEAN! Deep clean once/month. Less deep clean on the weekends. Maintain during the week.
• Keep chocolate around the house.

I'm almost 30. But from what I've read online (where everything is true+pure) I'm not alone in my... discomfort or whatever it is that gave me the itch to write this stuff down.

And if you can't tell or if you don't know me or if you care or even if you don't: I'm disappointed with myself. Not anyone else. We all pull our parts in our house: Me, Lorelai, R. But I want to and finally CAN do more. So. That's where this is coming from. Angry self-feelings. Crazy, angry self-feelings. I've had enough. Change can always happen. I want our home to be better cus it can. So. There's that...

lulu look at my ass.

Have you heard of LuLuLemon? It's a workout clothing company.

There's one in town. I walk by, but never go in .I just can't seem to make work-out-specific clothes make sense.

SWEATS ARE SO MULTIFUNCTIONAL! You know those sweats you bought 6 years ago that are too small now? Not they're sexy lil house pants that you can sloppily seduce your lover with while you re-heat 2-day-old leftovers+drink wine that's been aerated cus you forgot to put the top back on last night. You know those sweats your partner has? They're your period pants when said partner doesn't notice. You know those sweats your ex left at your house before ya'll broke up? They're kindling for a fire. As far as tops - gimme a racerback tank any day! You can wear it to the gym+then wash your pits in the bathroom sink+roll out onto the streets+then take your bra off at the end of the day+you have instant pajamas. Or maybe I'm the only one that does these things.

Also, $$. I looked online. A pair of pants+a top will run you $100. That's from the sale section...

And then there's the fact that I've only done yoga once.

I mean, folks are into the clothes or the company wouldn't be in business. I'm sure the quality is superb+that they've got awesome customer service+that they take care of their employees. I haven't checked Yelp, but that's probably the case. Lululemon has made it. That's awesome for them. Really.

All of that aside, on the list of Last Things I Want To See On Any Given Day is: fit women in yoga clothes. And whadya know... at the store last night, I spotted one. She was right beside me in line.

Between quickly scarfing down the double-serving of cheese+cracker samples that I had Lorelai get for me from the cheese section+trying to simultaneously suck my stomach in+also trying to come across as flippantly confident, I'm pretty sure I was exuding sheer+utter core strength. My Downward Dog confidence was in full  force. Bikram+Vinyasa ain't got shit on me when I'm feeling like crap!

Really tho... She was all:

And I was all: [imagine me looking all frumpy with cheese+crackers stuffed in my cheek+my stomach sucked in underneath all of my layers of non-form-fitting clothes+Lorelai standing next to me wondering why I was being all weird+staring at the lady next to me in such a salty way.]

The lady next to me didn't care.

I did. Obviously.

Or I wouldn't have noticed that she looked disheveled but totally hawt. She seemed to be lacking the guile to have planned her perfectly mussed hair+dewy glow. It's just how it she rolled after yoga or whatever. Then I looked at her butt when she turned around (you would have too. duh.) +it was pert+firm+there it was... the freaking Lululemon logo staring back at me.

KHAAAAAAN!

I gotta get back in shape, man. I don't think I'll buy workout clothes, but I wanna be in shape in such a way that I can almost justify needing special clothes for all the flexible+strong things that I do at the gym. Until that day. I should also prolly work on my self-confidence. Cus who cares who wears what at the grocery store? Heh. I DO!

So. Yes. Gym. But not tonight tho... I have some beer at home that I gotta finish so that I'm not tempted by it when I for real get serious about working out.

ps. Had this convo w/Rhasaan while writing this:

R: Whatcha doing?

Me: Writing.

R: About what?

Me: Yoga pants.

R: Nice!

Me: *shoots eyeball daggers*

R: What?! You look nice in yoga pants!

Me: I DON'T HAVE ANY YOGA PANTS! I have SWEATS!

R: ...

let's go fly a kite.

I love flying kites. I got my posse to roll with me this time.

nature's ruching.

Was sitting around with my solemate (on account of the fact that she 'lends' me a bunch of her shoes+they just don't/won't make it back to her) talking about our bodies CUS WE'RE GIRLS+THAT'S WHAT WE DOOOOOOO. We've both had kids+...we both bear the signs of having kids:

stretchmarks

Her's are quite dainty+light. Like, she had to pulllllll on her stomach+point out the miniscule stripes around her belly button+I had to get closer+kind of squint. Me?

Well, the convo went a little like this:

Me: THOSE are your stretchmarks?!?!! *lifts shirt* These are mine.

Her: Oh.

Me: Ruching hides body flaws well tho...

Her: Stretchmarks are like natures ruching.

Then we laughed+laughed.

Historically, I've justify that stretchmarks are my personal badge of honor cus I carried around+pushed out a NINE POUND SIX OUNCE HUMAN BEING out of my lovehole.

I used to be worried that, as a single mom, future guys would be grossed out by them. What, with an ex who referred to stretchmarks as 'roast beef stomach' +all. Up until R, I wouldn't really let guys touch my stomach. It was really inhibiting. It's hard to bump bellies without... bumping bellies, ya dig?

Sometimes I just don't care.

But I'm vain as fuck. Who am I kidding? I spent too much time trying to mold myself into the person someone else wanted me to be that I wouldn't let myself look how I wanted to look. I'm over that. It's WAY more fun to dress how I want to dress+be happy about how I look (most of the time) for me not to make an effort to do it+appreciate my own fucking face+hair+body+clothes+etc. Like. Fuck yes, vanity.

But there's some things I can't control.

Like the stretchmarks.

I've gained/lost weight+they're still there. I've done crunches+they're still there. I rubbed tanning lotion on my body to give the illusion that they weren't there+they were still there+then I had tanning lotion all over my hands+clothes. Like, they just won't go away.

Sometimes it bums me out.

ESPECIALLY when I see other mom's with banging ass bodies.

Like. How?

<:(

I just saw a picture of a mom w/two kids in a bikini+it literally made me pout+a dusty ass tear came out of my right eyeball.

I haven't worn a swimsuit in about 15 years. Mostly cus of body insecurities. I want to wear a bikini some day. I wanna look more like Princess Leia+less like Jabba The Hut.

There's not really a resolution here. Just pouting+a funny picture, really. Also, maybe a plea for reader-funded plastic surgery.

bubble.

Sometimes the bubble pops+you're like 'whaaaaaaa?'