Wedding Stress

And if you’ve been around for a while, you know it’s not my wedding.

Which might make this even more stressful because, come on, someone else’s wedding shouldn’t be stressing me out more than my own did.

But then again, so many people commented that I was the most laid back bride they had ever met, so maybe my judgment of this is off.

However, Mr. A’s best friend is getting married next weekend. G was the best man at our wedding and is like a brother to me. I love him and Mr. A and I would do anything he asked because we know he would do, and has done, the same. Mr. A and G were friends in the womb as they are only six months apart and they are so very close.

That being said, this wedding has been a source of stress for Mr. A and I. The biggest issue? The cost.

G doesn’t act like it, but he comes from…well…a lot of money. Like…not fully comprehensible amounts of money.

I’m not one to talk about finances, especially someone else’s, but it’s important to understand so you can understand why we are feeling so much pressure.

As you know, Mr. A and I are both still students. We live off my small income and student loans.

G did some awesome things for Mr. A as his best man, so of course we wanted to return the favor. I pretty much gave Mr. A free reign as to how much could be spent on G’s bachelor party because I knew Mr. A wanted to do something special and that G would enjoy.

Well, we’re still paying for that 6 day extravaganza. And I didn’t even get a t-shirt, damnit.

They have had two engagement parties thrown for them, both cocktail attire, so that required two different dresses because this girl doesn’t typically go to fancy events, so I didn’t have dresses to wear.

Since Mr. A is the best man and many of the guests at these events, and the wedding, are important people, so I am feeling even more pressure to dress accordingly and to not look like an amateur. Doesn’t help that I’m not a size 2 and am picky about how dresses should look on me.

Then there is the issue of a wedding gift.

I have a thing for giving good gifts and I will stress over anyone’s gift because I want to give some special and thoughtful, but also something that I know they will love. For this one, I’ve also had this looming feeling of needing it to be “big”. G went above and beyond for ours and I don’t want to look cheap or something.

Yes, G knows our situation and even said he didn’t expect us to get them a gift after everything else that we’ve done, but there isn’t a chance in hell that we aren’t giving them a gift.

I had some good and creative ideas, but Mr. A doesn’t think we need to spend a lot of money. As a boy, he just isn’t seeing the issue as I am.

We finally settled on buying them all of their bath towels since no one else has and I plan on adding some bath salts and candles to the package to add some thought. It’s a little on the boring side for my taste, but we couldn’t afford anything else on their registry and Mr. A didn’t like my original ideas, so at least they are getting something for their own future home.

And we haven’t even gotten to the wedding!

I still haven’t fully decided on a dress for rehearsal dinner. I ordered one from RueLaLa and if it shows up on time, I’ll wear it, otherwise I’ll figure out something from what I have. I had to buy a nice, more formal dress for the wedding, so I don’t want to buy yet another dress that I won’t get to wear often. At least the RueLaLa one I can wear to teach and such.

But then the wedding itself.

Unlike mine where G’s fiance came with us for pictures beforehand since I had all guys in my wedding party, they have 8 groomsmen and 8 bridesmaids. They do not need another person tagging along. So I get to spend all day on my own. This isn’t really a problem, but for some reason it didn’t occur to me until last week since she came with us for all of ours.

Also not occurring to me? I won’t be sitting with Mr. A at the reception. He will, of course, be at the head table.

Well, all of the people I know and am friends with at this wedding, are IN the wedding. Again, since we only have 4 people in our entire wedding party, we had their dates/significant others sit with us at the head table since we knew everyone and it was a blast. 

No idea who they are going to seat me with and I am terrible with small talk.

So while I was initially really excited for this wedding, I just want the damn thing to be over with already. It’s basically an entire weekend spent in Mr. A’s hometown, without Mr. A.

Hey, at least I get to have my hair done and I can drink as much as I want since no one will be watching me.

Mr. A owes me. Big time. I think I deserve a beach trip. You know, after we pay off all this wedding business.

Accessorize Me!

I am not the most stylish person ever. I know this.

I don’t think I typically am the worst dressed, but I really have a hard time accessorizing outfits. I can find a dress or an outfit that is cute and looks good, but I never know how to put jewelry or shoes with it.

As some of you might know, Mr. A’s best friend is getting married next month. He was the best man in our wedding and is like a brother to me.

A couple weeks ago, we met up with him for dinner and of course, the wedding came up. His family has quite a bit of money and I know that his older sister’s wedding was black tie and a VERY formal affair. I asked about the wedding and it turns out that they wanted to put “black tie” on the invitations, but her parents didn’t think that was a good idea. (Why, I have no idea since this is going to be a big and very nice wedding.)

As soon as he said that, I knew I needed a dress. I had one that I thought I would wear, but it just didn’t seem nice enough. I originally went shopping with the intent of finding a long dress, but all of them looked like prom dresses or entirely too casual maxi dresses. So instead I went with a nice shorter dress that falls right below my knees.

It looks really nice on and I thought with the right accessories, I could make it fancy enough.

This is the top of it. I love the ruffles around the neck and think it adds a fun detail.

So, this is where all of YOU come in!

I need some help. Remember, a fancy wedding at night. Also, Mr. A will be in a tux, so I need to look okay next to him.

I have some nice black peep-toe heels that I think I am going to wear. (I’d show a picture, but I left them at my mom’s so will need to pick them up from her.) I wore them when I was in a wedding as a bridesmaid and I think they will be perfect with the dress.

But I don’t know what to do for jewelry. I am considering hair styles along these lines:

  OR OR one of these

 

Unless, you think this concept wouldn’t look good with the dress? I thought since it is all ruffly around the neck, it would be good to have the hair up and I really like the low and to the side pinned buns. Also, I am getting my hair done at 11am. Wedding isn’t until 5pm and reception at 7pm. I need the hair to last ALL DAY on a hot June day. I have pretty thick hair and I know having it curled and down just won’t last more than an hour.

So that’s the hair question.

Now, for jewelry.

It is kind of low, but it isn’t ridiculous and the ruffles hide some of it.

I was thinking, with the hair style in mind, of doing big dangly earrings, skipping a necklace, but then doing a bracelet.

Yes? No?

And if so, what should the earrings/bracelet look like? Sparkly? Pearls? Black?

SEE?? I am helpless when it comes to this type of stuff. Not a clue.

So please. Help me.

And if my ideas suck, tell me, but then give me other ideas. And if you find pictures, feel free to e-mail them to me at newteacherwife@gmail.com because I need some serious help here! I can’t show up looking ridiculous when my husband will be looking sharp in a tux!

I Haz Smartz

Some days, I feel like a total idiot.

No, not some days. Most days.

Here I am, in a graduate program in literature sitting in classes with Ph.D. students that have written books that the History channel has bought rights to and made into a series.

REALLY?!?!

I have to be in class with you and do presentations on my research in front of you when you have been a college professor for 10 years and decided to get your Doctorate?!?

Cue panic.

Granted, there are also undergrads in the class, but they don’t have to do the same research presentations that the graduate students do. Lucky kids. Oh to be in undergrad again and having hardly anything to worry about.

Just this morning, my friend M and I were being silly in my office before class and rocking out to Queen and reading about Resse Witherspoon getting hit by a car and talking about where we wanted to get margaritas this weekend. And then I hear some people down the hall having a heated discussion about the feminist leanings of writers in the Victorian era and about all the sexual repression in the literature.

Yeah. These actually happen. These conversations take place daily in our hallways. All the time. With very smart things being said about very smart topics that make my eyes glaze over and wonder if they were speaking French.

I don’t know if it’s just that I’ve been out of school for a while, but I feel like I am just not even close to being as smart as these people. It crosses my mind that maybe I’ve somehow fooled the admission committee and I’m really not cut out for this program.

And that, my friends, is a terrifying concept.

What if I really am not going to be successful at this? I went through not having a job. I’m taking out loans to help cover what my assistantship doesn’t. And I don’t even know if I’m going to be good at this.

Yes, I enjoy the teaching part. My observation went well. But do I have what it takes to be a successful master of literature?

Who knows.

It’s all a bit intimidating.

My plan for that scary research presentation is to just go first, that way if I bomb, at least I was first and won’t have to see how awesome they did before I go up there and look like a 5 year old.

Yes, I’m sure I’ll be fine. Yes, I’m sure I will get into the swing of things. I’ll figure it out and do what I need to do.

So for now, I’ll put my headphones on as I watch the End of the World video and wonder what Beyonce will name her child and put a smiley stamp on my students’ assignments. Hopefully if one of those super smart people come into my office, it will be one of the times I’m not on twitter or drooling over Kate Spade things. Hopefully.

Truth Time: Unemployment

Something I have always strived to do with this blog is be honest. To give as much of a real view of my life without giving away things that could come back to bite me in the butt. I don’t post my name or city we live in. I won’t air our dirty laundry and even some things that I want to blog about, I think better of and decide that maybe I don’t want to deal with those consequences.

But something I worked hard to be honest about was my time of unemployment.

I’m pretty sure it is obvious how miserable I was. Click any of the tags or categories called jobs, job search, life after college, freak out, WTF. There are tons. I would link them, but I don’t think you want 12 lines of links.

But something I found during that time was that I felt very very alone. I felt like no one understood what was going on, what I was going through, how I felt or the emotions I was battling every day.

But here I am on the other side.

In 3 days, I start my workshop training for my graduate assistantship. 2 weeks from Monday, I officially start grad school. Not only is my grad school being paid for, but I will also be getting a pay check. I am on the upside of this year long ordeal.

But it was an ordeal.

I couldn’t imagine that a year later, I would be sitting here, looking over my new school supplies, picking out which outfits to wear, getting keys to my office in the English department at the university. I never thought I would be here.

Unfortunately, I know there are plenty of others who are where I was a year ago.

This is my way of reaching out to YOU.

YOU are not alone. While every situation is different, I at least have some idea of what you are going through.

Whether you are just out of college, if you had a job and lost it because of downsizing or whatever reason, if you took the bar and are waiting for results, if you are underemployed, because believe me, I may have only been unemployed for 5 months, but I was extremely underemployed for 8 months and it was rough.

There was one blogger who I found that helped to just know someone else had gone through this. Ashley from Accidental Olympian Alaskan was amazing. She might be a little embarrassed and be all, “I just wrote my story blah blah blah”. She was the only other blog (that i found at least) that was honest about what being unemployed felt like for people who worked so hard in college and had degrees in fields that should have jobs and not finding anything. For applying for job after job and getting turned down. She was open with her emotions and depression that resulted. And THANK YOU ASHLEY! I told her in a million different e-mails how much I appreciated her honesty. (Ashley, i swear I’m not a stalker, but I think you deserve some acknowledgement! YOU ROCK GIRL!) And even if you have a job, go check out her blog. She has a job now, just moved to Alaska, and posts cute pictures of her dogs and of areas in Alaska that are breathtaking. And she’s pretty damn hilarious.

I am not nearly as eloquent as Ashley. I know that. I’ve re-read some of my posts from that time and they ramble and I come across very pathetic. I know it. It’s okay. But I always wanted my readers to know what was going on. I didn’t want to hide it and make it sound like I was thoroughly enjoying my time at home and being little miss homemaker and didn’t have a worry in my head.

So. Not. True.

I was a wreck. Maybe the first month was kind of fun since we had just gotten married, moved to a new city, had a new apartment. But that wore off quickly. In that first month, I never imagined I wouldn’t have a job for another 4 months.

And yes, the big D word hit me hard. I was not myself for a long time, even after I got the job in retail. I was so underemployed that I felt worthless. There were days that maybe I got out of bed, but only to stay in my pajamas, move to the couch and watch Netflix all day. I didn’t want to spend any money because we were truly living off of student loans. I cried more than I have ever cried. I was short with my husband. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I would snap on my parents when they would ask me how things were going, even though they were being incredibly supportive and knew that I was working as hard as I could to get a job.

I feel I’m rambling.

Basically, I just want anyone out there going through a hard time that you are not alone. And if you EVER just need to vent or talk to someone who has a slight idea of what you are feeling, do NOT hesitate to e-mail me. I won’t think you’re weird or anything. I don’t want anyone to feel isolated during this time. It is hard. I know that. But both Ashley and I are a couple of the stories that prove that it does get better. (I hope that phrase isn’t copyrighted…) And if I have to send you an e-mail everyday reminding you of that, I will. If that will help, I will do it.

One thing. People who haven’t been through this, they really won’t understand. They may empathize, but they won’t truly get where you’re at. My husband, who saw me every day and knew that I was doing everything in my power to find a job, he still didn’t get it. He would get frustrated at times because his new wife, the girl he knew to be fun and outgoing didn’t want to leave the house. Didn’t want to put on clothes or makeup. He couldn’t grasp how I was feeling.

But here I am. I am offering my support. My love. My words of encouragement. It does get better. I promise. Even if it’s 6 months or 12 months or 18 months, it will get better and we are here to help you along those rough days.

And lastly, this new song makes me cry every time. No one dies in it. It’s not about a lost love. But the man in the story of the song is so absolutely desperate that even though I didn’t have kids and a family to support, I can sympathize with his emotions. Take a minute and listen to his story. And maybe take a second before judging someone who is currently looking for a job. If you have one, it’s hard to understand why those of us can’t find one. But it is hard out there. There are millions of stories about people applying for jobs they are so overqualified for and being turned down even though they desperately need the money. It’s my PSA for the day.

Ronnie Dunn- Cost Of Living   (Won’t let me insert video, but this link will take you to it. Give it a few minutes. It’s something close to my heart.)

Flying Drama

When Mr. A went to Other State, he drove since he obviously would need his car and he had too much stuff to bring on a flight without baggage costing an arm and a leg.

But I have no desire to spend 11 hours in a car by myself. There’s no need to have two cars there, so obviously, I’m flying.

But here’s a secret:

I’m not a great flier.

I don’t like to fly. Not to the point where I won’t fly, but I don’t like it. I get incredibly antsy and nervous. I have an overactive imagination and it seems to kick into high gear as soon as I settle into my seat.

And takeoff is the worst part. I can’t listen to my ipod to zone out. I can’t read my Kindle. I just have to sit there. Add in the fact that I get headaches pretty easily and my ears pop like crazy, and it’s just not an enjoyable experience.

I usually have about 2 or 3 pieces of gum and I chew like a mad woman to keep the pressure from building up in my ears. I’ll take a couple Advil before the flight and hope that it keeps any potential headache away.

But even better, I usually have my husband with me. Or someone else to talk to. Last year, when we had to get on two different flights both ways to and from Mexico, Mr. A was great and would just hold my hand and make jokes.

But this time?

I’m alone.

No one to hold my hand. No one to tell me that it will all be okay. No one to make stupid jokes and point out the other goofy looking passengers.

I have flown alone before.

I was 10 and I flew back from Salt Lake City while my dad and his girlfriend went on to San Francisco. But this was pre 9/11 and my dad was actually allowed to walk on the plan with me and get me settled in my seat.

But I am a big girl now.

And I can do this.

It;s not like I’m having a panic attack or anything, just…anxious.

My plan is to get to the airport early, allowing me plenty of time to get through security and to find my terminal and gate and all that. I am then planning on going to one of the restaurants and having myself a drink in order to calm my nerves, maybe even take a short nap on the plane.

I’m planning on buying a magazine so I have something to occupy my mind. Luckily, I got into the first boarding group, so I get to pick my seat, which will be an aisle seat, hopefully in the exit row so I have a little more space.

This time tomorrow I will be sweating my butt off and exploring a new city. Now to not panic on the plane.

Moving: The Aftermath

I really can’t believe my marriage has survived this.

Actually, I can. I’m being dramatic. But I’ve had moments that I wanted to pay for a second apartment so I could have one on my own.

I loathe, just like most people, moving. LOATHEEEEE.

There really aren’t words strong enough for how much I hate it.

Probably also comes from my moving back and forth between houses every week when I was younger.

AND YOU GUYS. How in the world do two young people have so much crap?!?!

I mean, we’ve lived in college dorms and college apartments. We still live in a college town in apartments that aren’t that big, yet we probably have enough things to fill a small house.

Luckily, we weren’t moving very far, so it was a little easier on me since I had to do it on my own. Even better, my MIL lent me her SUV to use instead of my teeny tiny car, and that made a HUGE difference.

However, if I ever get to pick a move date in the future, it will be during the winter when it’s nice a cold. Moving in 94 degree temperatures with 100% humidity is pure hell. Add in steps to the front door and now having an apartment with a second floor, and it was NOT fun.

I started moving on Tuesday, and by Friday, I thought my lower back was going to explode. I still need to schedule my massage…

Mr. A came home Thursday night and we finished moving things. I had basically everything done except for furniture and some miscellaneous things. We moved the televisions and set up the air mattress and stayed in the new apartment.

Also, pretty sure we put the fewest miles EVER on a rented Uhaul. A grand total of SEVEN. Seven miles folks. We only had to put one gallon of gas back in it. It was more miles back and forth to the rental place than between our apartments. We were done with the truck in 3 hours. Too bad they don’t prorate when you don’t use it for a whole day.

We got things mostly functional, but I didn’t want to spend my last day with Mr. A unpacking, so I told him that I would deal with it after he left so we could enjoy some time doing fun things.

BIG MISTAKE.

Yes, I’m glad that I got to spend time with him, but holy crap. Unpacking might be worse than packing.

The kitchen is the only room that is completely unpacked. The rest of the apartment? Not so much.

This fun pile is definitely still in our living room. Do I know what’s in those boxes? Not really. The stuff in the background is blocking a closet door. Luckily, the closet doesn’t have hardly any space, so I’m not missing much. Someone want a rockband drum set? Because I’m ready to just get rid of it. We played it for a while, but now, not really. It’s in my way.

These are the stairs. Doesn’t look too bad. Those two boxes are things that I need to take to Goodwill and such. Mr. A will freak out if I turn the stairs into a catch-all, so I’m trying to not get into that habit.

But the first pile is immediately to the right of the stairs, and until it’s moved, I can’t put our entryway table there, so the stairs it is. And they are quite convenient for purses and things that eventually need to go upstairs. 🙂

And the upstairs.

Please don’t report me to Hoarders.

This is utterly embarrassing. But this is currently what a corner of our bedroom looks like.

It’s clothes and miscellaneous crap that I need to find a home for. We went from a two bedroom apartment where we basically used the second room as storage for things we never planned on unpacking. We now only have one bedroom, and while there’s more room, we no longer have a room to jam stuff.

And I’m just being lazy and enjoying my time off. I promise it will  get put away. Probably early next week, but only because I’m going home this weekend. I’m in no rush because I know what works for me and how I operate. The longer I stare at it, the more I will hate it and will ensure that I take care of it the right way, and not just half-ass it. It’s a process folks.

Also, I’m coming off of just PACKING AND MOVING all of this. I give myself a week to not have to touch it. Eventually I will need more clothes, so it will happen. (And by shaming myself here on the blog, it will have to get done so I can take real apartment pictures to post for you all!)

So, there’s been a lot of sitting on the couch this week. Yes, being lazy, but I’m allowing it for myself. Do I deserve it? Doubtful. But my husband doesn’t come home until August 17th. As long as it’s done before then so he doesn’t leave me for being a lazy bum, it’s all good. I just won’t show him living room images on Skype. No need to worry him.

For now, I will watch SATC, drink wine, order takeout, and schedule my massage. I sure am lucky.

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The Baby Debate

**I’ve not had a baby. I’m not planning on having a baby anytime soon. I welcome personal experiences and thoughts. Just know these are my opinions and thoughts and they could change*

I have no idea what has drawn me to these two movies, but I am and I’ve watched them. Netflix Instantly is to blame. As is my curiosity about pregnancy and delivery.

I’ve watched “The Business of Being Born” and “Pregnant in America”. And both seem to be pro natural birth/doulas/midwives and they are fascinating.

I had always thought and assumed that I would just go to a hospital, have an epidural, and out comes the baby. Yes, I know it would take time and all that and yes I know it would be painful and probably not fun, but that’s how it happens.

Apparently, there are more options. (yes, logically I knew that, but never considered them)

And I’m terribly conflicted about this.

@aRealLifeWife from Keeping up with the Joneses asked me on Twitter why I was watching these. I’ve said that we aren’t having kids for a while, so she was probably curious about my choice of movies. I told her that I want to be armed with as much information as possible before the time comes. I know once I get pregnant, I will be so excited and worried about picking out colors and cribs and strollers and room decor themes and clothes and cute stuffed animals (which I know to not have in the crib with them…). Names and gender will be discussed and I will be a big ball of emotions and hormones and I will NOT be in the right state of mind to make an informed and well thought out decision. I also know I will be a little scared and worried, so I could be easily swayed one way or another.

So here I am. I would NOT be happy if we had a baby right now due to financial reasons and I know I’m just not ready yet. Will I ever truly feel ready? Who knows, but now is not the time. So it’s a great time for me to research since I’m under no time crunch or trying to get pregnant. I’m level headed and trying to understand all of the options and statistics and all that jazz.

And my ideas of lots of pains meds in a hospital bed and all that have been shaken.

The information about Pitocin and the problems it causes for both the mom and the baby is scary enough. And the statistics about how many births occur Monday thru Friday as compared to Saturday and Sunday are astounding. The idea that doctors would push a drug used for the induction of labor, that also has a lot of scary side effects, just so they can get home or so they don’t have to be there for a 16 hour labor when they can have a 30 minute caesarean, is appalling. They decided to become doctors. Doctors don’t have 9-5 jobs, especially in obstetrics. Hello! Women go into labor at all hours of the day and night and I’ve heard of labors lasting anywhere from 2 hours to 36.

(Edit) But I KNOW not all doctors are like this. My mom’s doctor did not want to do a c-section and, even though she had some complications, they didn’t do a c-section because he didn’t find it necessary. He let it happen how her body was going to do it. On her time. And I would guess to say MOST doctors are like this. Even the documentaries talked to these doctors. So please don’t think I think every OBGYN is going to rush a person. I’m not. It’s just the percentage of c-sections and use of pitocin is on the rise for some reason and it’s not something I want, if avoidable. So I will research and meet with my doctor to find out and make sure he or she knows that I want things to happen naturally, if that’s the route I choose.

However, home birth is not in my plans.

You see, I might be more conflicted than other people.

Both of my mom’s labors did not go well. Like, at all. Had she not been in a hospital…well, it wouldn’t be good. I still don’t have ALL of the details as to what was going wrong, but when she was in labor with me, her doctor said “We aren’t going to let happen the first time happen again. Let’s get her out now.” Also, both of my mom’s labors started when her water broke as opposed to contractions first. Not sure if this was part of the problem, but my mom is very adamant about being a hospital because of her experience. Also, after me and how badly things went, they decided no more children.

So that makes me nervous. Labor is a big deal, and whether in a hospital or at home, with a doctor or midwife or doula, things, unfortunately, can go wrong.

But also all the information about doctors pushing c-sections makes me nervous. A c-section is a HUGE surgery. It’s a big deal. Also, after one c-section there is a fair amount of scar tissue which can cause other problems should the mom have to have another c-section or abdominal surgery.

My MIL wanted a c-section. She also had nurse friends to tell her where to say it hurt or she felt pressure to get the doctor to do a c-section. And I know lots of women would rather have a 30 minute surgery and be done than to have to push and be in pain for hours and hours on end. I get that. I don’t like pain. My mom says that I have a pretty high pain tolerance, but still.

So what do you do? What did you do?

I think I have more research to do. I think I want Mr. A to watch these because he is very pro hospital. He has a cousin who has done home birth 3 times (also doesn’t take her kids to the doctor for anything which is a whole other issue). We always thought it was crazy because she didn’t even have a midwife- just her mom and sister. Our joke has been that I will have 2 doctors, all the pain meds and will be in a hospital to make sure nothing happens.

But this is a decision, in my opinion, that he and I have to make together. We both need to be comfortable in our decision and work as a team, no matter what we choose.

I think the idea of a midwife would be great, especially since then you have the freedom to move around and try to make yourself comfortable, as opposed to being in a bed. However, I want it in a hospital, for the “just in case”. Sometimes, as one expert in the documentary said, Pitocin is needed, or a c-section is required. But a c-section shouldn’t be a first option for a doctor. The doctor should try everything else and c-section should be plan Z as it will save the mom and baby.

Again, every woman has their own ideas and opinions, and I respect ALL of them. And I may decide to go back to my original doctor plan. Mr. A could be adamantly against a midwife. I could have a rocky pregnancy that requires a doctor. Who knows. So I’m not judging any woman for any decision they make. I do think doctors (and again, I know it’s not all doctors, just a few- not trying to say it’s everyone) need to listen to their patients and work with them and not force them into something they aren’t comfortable with. And that goes for obstetrics and every other branch of medicine.

So I shall continue to research while I have plenty of time. There are a couple books I would like to read to learn more. I want to be super informed and very sure of my decision.

So for now, if you see me and I have a tummy bump? That’s cheeseburger and fries I ate. Sorry to get your hopes up.

Frozen

Well, you guys win.

Overwhelmingly, you want honest and true and what’s actually happening. If that’s me in a total breakdown over my super underemployment or talking about my irrational fears or writing about the weightloss challenges I’m facing-it’s what you want.

And I’m so glad.

I have always been one that kind of wears my emotions on my sleeves. Mystery isn’t really my game. I’d probably spill a whole lot more about myself if I wasn’t in a career field where I could get into some big trouble if I said too much or some ridiculous parent didn’t like my stories about margaritas and wine. (Really? Teachers are people too. We like beerz. Get over it.)

Also, I like that I got comments about me being “real”. One problem I have at times is that some of the blogs I read make it seem like their life is the picture of perfection. And maybe it is. I don’t know. But it makes me feel inadequate when all I read is about how peachy everyone is. I want someone to have a meltdown every once in a while. Show some grit. Some real emotion.

I completely understand not putting it all out there. I don’t blog about everytime Mr. A and I get into an argument or the nights that I wish I had my own apartment so I could just be in my own space for a few hours. Yes, sometimes we fight. Sometimes I do bitchy things. Sometimes he’s a butthead. But that’s life. I love him more than anything and he is my soulmate. My very clean and neat soulmate.

So I’m glad you want real because it’s what you’re going to get.

Like this:

I don’t really hide the fact that I hate my job in retail. It blows. Crappy hours. Rude customers. Coworkers who think this is the most important job on the planet. And I have a good degree and I make less than my BIL who was kicked out of college twice bc of failing grades and he now works at a factory making WAY MORE THAN I DO. I must have done something terrible because karma hates me right now.

So, you would think I would be all about applying for teaching jobs. Right?

Wrong.

I applied for grad school and a teaching assitantship position, but I won’t find anything out for about another month. That was stressful and I had to write a 10 page paper after a year out of the classroom and whatever. But, it’s over. I will find out via a letter telling me one way or another.

But teaching positions? So much more stressful.

For one, the applications are insane. I know they don’t want serial killers and such in their schools, but why do you need to know my exact high school gpa and class rank? Really? You want to judge me based on who I was in high school? I went to college and learned more about myself and the world and grew up. High school shouldn’t have anything to do with you hiring me. Just knowing who I dated in high school and no one would want to hire me. Sheesh.

Also, in my state, education jobs are incredibly competitive since the budget got slashed. Not as many positions and still lots of people applying.

And then there’s the interviews. I went through two teaching interviews in the past. One went really well and they didn’t hire me because they wanted someone with experience since they would be coming in half way through the year and it was for juniors who have HUGE portfolios to do. So I got it. I was bummed, but no big deal.

The other, didn’t go so great. I felt off and I usually interview well. It was with the school I student taught at, so I thought I was a bit of a shoo-in since I had glowing recommendations and the principal knew and liked me and the English department liked me. But I was interviewing against a “friend”. We were friends bc of proximity, not because I actually liked her. I didn’t.

Welp, she got the job. There are some other factors like the fact that I would have had to commute 1.5 hours where as she had a 15 minute drive. Also, she plans on living there for the rest of her life where I would have, at most, only been there 3 years.

But that was crushing. Add that she enjoyed rubbing it in my face and I’m a little scared of the whole process.

I feel stuck. Frozen. Locked in place.

I don’t even want to apply to places for fear of rejection. How ridiculous is that?

I logically know I will never get out of this shithole of a job without applying and looking for other work (if grad school doesn’t accept me (yet another stressor!!)). I just hate everything about job searching.

Add in how depressed I became during my 5 month unemployment stint after not even getting called for an interview for jobs I either would have been good at or was overqualified for.

So I’m trying to push through. A school close to my home city, that get both state funding and federal funding because of military students, and pays EXTREMLY well, has TWO English openings. HELLO! Two chances is better than one, right?

I’m trying to stay optimistic and somehow hoping a lot of people don’t know how well they pay and since it’s sort of in the middle of no where, don’t apply. Hoping.

But it would mean I would be moving home for a bit, and if Mr. A isn’t able to transfer to the other law school in my home city, then we would be living apart, which I wouldn’t be excited about.

So it’s all in the air.

I guess I need some good luck and prayers. Prayers that the RIGHT thing comes along. The thing that I will finally be happy with, whether that be grad school or a teaching position, I don’t know. But I need something because if I have to fit one more old lady for a bra and she insists on a push up bra to make “her girls look awesome”, I might vomit.

Walk of Shame

This isn’t going to be easy to write. This is fun to write. I really wish I wasn’t writing it.

So, I’m sure you’re asking, “Then why the hell ARE you writing it?!”

Because I no longer have a choice.

Yes, in the abstract sense, I do have a choice, but in my mind, I don’t.

I have to write this to shame myself into doing something about it.

I know, I know. It’s the time of New Year’s resolutions and everyone says they are going to lose weight. And while some people are rude and say that no one ever sticks to it, if that is your New Year’s resolution, good for you. I will be cheering for you and wishing you the best. The people who are rude from the start always upset me because they know nothing about you and your struggles or back story. So from me to you, good luck. And if you slip up, it’s okay. Get back on. I believe in you.

And I, like you, have made the same resolution. Only I don’t like calling them resolutions.

This is my very serious goal. I absolutely HAVE to do something about it.

I know I’ve written about this in the past, but always in vague terms. Yes I need to lose weight. But as I read other blogs and Twitter comments and talked to people, I realized that “need to lose weight” means a lot of different things to different people. To some, it’s 10 or 15 pounds. To others it’s 200.

For me, it’s 85. And no, that won’t put me at anorexic status. It will bring me down to 135, which is where I should be.

So yes, I have very serious weight to lose.

And you also might ask why I’m posting this for all to see?

Because if I don’t, I will keep living in denial. I will keep on the same path. I will keep believing that it’s not that bad.

It is that bad. It’s been such a problem and source of embarrassment. It absolutely crushes me.

Throughout all of this unemployment and job problems, I’ve talked about my lack of self- esteem. And yes, a lot of the recent depressed feelings about myself do stem from the job situation. But, if I’m honest, my weight plays a huge part in all of this.

In high school, I thought I was big. Looking back, I was so very wrong, but I didn’t think that. All of my girl friends were TINY and one of my best friends had some eating issues, which I never really realized until after we went separate ways and I was looking back on the friendship and how very unhealthy it was for me. It didn’t help that I was a good six inches taller, so I was naturally going to weigh more.

My freshman year of college I weighed the lowest. I had developed some not to great eating habits of my own the summer before and the new freedom just meant my parents weren’t watching me to see if I was eating dinner.

But then sophomore year happened, my parents yanked me home because of grades, and it all collapsed around me. I was depressed. I didn’t talk to anyone at home. Not an exaggeration. I made it so that as few people as humanly possible even knew I wasn’t at MSU. I was always visiting Mr. A and such, which meant eating out and drinking. And when I was home, I sat on my bed, with my computer, and watched tv. I did, literally, nothing. And the weight piled on. I probably gained no less than 40 pounds that year alone.

And it just continued to pile on. I turned 21. I liked/still like to drink and I was all about going out and partying with friends, which usually meant going out to eat beforehand. And I learned that throwing up salad after a long night of vodka and beer pong wasn’t fun. So I would carbo-load before going out. And because I was friends with guys, I drank a lot of beer. So carbs on top of carbs on top of not doing much activity.

You know the story.

It’s embarrassing. Absolutely embarrassing. I couldn’t even begin to count the number of times I’ve broken down in tears in changing rooms because clothes didn’t fit or I had to go up a size or a zipper broke when trying on a dress. If I had to create my own personal hell, it would be a changing room with clothes that will never fit and always look bad, but I had to find a way to wear them.

My husband is a very sweet man. But he’s also a very sweet man who can eat what he wants. He may complain about his weight, but he hits the gym or goes for one of his 50 mile bike rides (which isn’t even his longest and he loves doing it) and it’s gone. He’s built a little stocky since he’s a little shorter, but he can lose any weight in no time. Also, after he works out, he can eat anything he wants.

And he tries to help me. But for some reason, whenever he brings up working out more or eating better or gives me a look when i reach for the chips, it breaks my heart. I crumble into a sobbing puddle. I know he means nothing mean by it, but I can’t take it from him. I also can’t workout at the gym with him. He’s also the first person I will get angry with and it ends with a huge blowup.

But I also know my weight problems make him unhappy. Not in a way that he loves me less, but my struggles make it nearly impossible for me to just let loose or be the person I was when he met me. The confident girl who felt sexy and attractive and who knew that his eyes were only on me. And as much as he says he loves me no matter what, I can’t help but think that he has to notice other girls and wish I looked like them. Not the skinny as a rail models, but the healthy girls who can wear a swimsuit and not feel the need to be covered every minute they’re not in the water.

I want to be more for him. I want to do better for him. I don’t want him to think he made a mistake in marrying me.

And the most devastating is looking at pictures. Pictures from this Christmas just made me sick. I think I tricked myself into believing it wasn’t that bad. I wear my “skinny outfits”, thinking I look good and then a picture shows up and I look terrible. I walk by mirrors at work and I think, “It looked better when I was at home.” It is that bad. I promise you. And I need to face the music on my own problems here.

Even worse, wedding pictures. A girl is supposed to look back at her wedding pictures and love them. They are supposed to remind her of the amazing day shared with friends and family as she married her best friend.

I see the fat rolls on my arms or how wide I looked in my dress or how chunky my face looks. I try so hard to look past that, but I just can’t.

And I know a girl who had the exact same dress and seeing her pictures make it worse. Yes, she’s like six feet tall and super skinny, but I can’t help at think how much better she looked in the dress than I did.

So this is why I’m writing this.

To get back to the girl I know I was and can be, if I can just shed some of this weight and feel better, not only about my appearance, but also just feel healthier. I no longer have a choice.

I put it out there. I can’t turn back now.

I’m not turning this into a weight loss blog because I will need my escape. But I hope to do updates. Good or bad. I will feel accountable to you.

And if you are someone who is in shape, or maybe only has 5 pounds to lose, I hope you can understand where I’m coming from. I’m cheering for all of you and hope you can cheer for me too. This isn’t going to be easy or even fun all the time, but I’m hoping to get there this year.  I want more for myself this year, and this is where I’m starting.