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February 16, 2004


I need to vent. I saw my grandparents today. Now don't get me
wrong. I love them. I even really enjoy them in general. They are
one of the reasons why I moved back to the Pacific Northwest. But
once in a while something is said to me that makes my eyes bulge and
I have to bite my tongue. Today it was from my grandfather.

I have been unemployed for a while. I haven't worked since I
moved here. This sucks, but I'm getting by and working hard to make
the employment thing happen. I'm not mooching off of anyone but
Grandpa is anxious for me to get a job...as am I.

I'm a corporate trainer. A performance consultant actually. I am
working on my graduate degree, I have a number of years of
experience, I came from the high tech industry where the amount of
training and variation has given me about 3X the experience a
standard trainer accumulates in the same amount of time. I love what
I do and I'm pretty good at it. I'm solid middle management.

This morning he brings me the phone book. He thinks it would be a
good idea if I went through the yellow pages and called businesses
to see if they need a trainer.

Then, later, he was admiring my knitting bag/purse and said I
should keep my resume in it. I thought it was for when I was riding
on a bus or train and was going to comment that it probably was a
good idea. But then he finished his thought. It was in case I met a
man that was hiring a secretary.

I'm not biting my tongue because he suggested I become a
secretary. I've done that and actually really like the work. But I'm
paying off a $50 thousand student loan so I would have fancy degrees
and skills to be the person who hires the secretary. Does Grandpa
think I'm Doris Day and my Rock Hudson is out there somewhere? Not
long after that when I said something about filling in the pothole
in front of the gate they were aghast I would suggest doing it when
there were men that lived on our lane that could do it.

The good news is. I'm not feeling bad about not being married as
I cruise up on my 37th birthday...

They actually do a good job of making me indignant and fiercly

February 15, 2004

Dreams haunt me

Sometimes I hate my head. I dreamed last night that I was having
a conversation that I have always wished I had. Many years ago my
boyfriend of 3 years and I split up. It wasn't a clear cut split. It
was one of those drift aparts and you notice one day you aren't
together. I'm not surprised it ended that way. He is a coward and
preferred slipping out back doors. But I never got closure I guess.
I've been thinking about him a lot lately. I think I have unresolved

So last night I dreamed I was saying what I always wished I had
had the opportunity to say. And I was packing. We never lived
together so I don't know why I was packing in the dream. But I
think, in some weird way, my brain was moving on. Which is good. I'd
rather not think about this old boyfriend. He just didn't treat me
good enough for me to expend any energy on anymore.

Now that I literally moved on in my dreams, does this mean I am
literally moving on?

OK now fellas, line up. I think I just put some baggage away and
I'm ready for the rest of ya!

February 13, 2004

You can change your size just by ignoring what it really is...

Which is something I've tried for years but I'm just going to
have to admit, it is all there! I've gotten more cute clothes that
don't fit but were so close. I was apparently sure that just having
them in my closet would make my body shrink down to fit it.

I went into Victoria's Secret with my sister-in-law over
Christmas. She is a gorgeous, fit young woman so she does her
lingerie shopping there. Me...not so much. When SIL went into the
fitting room to try on a bra, the sales girl (and yes, I'll call her
a girl and not a woman) turned to me hopefully and tried to talk me
into one of their bras.

The first thing she did was pull out the enhancer model. I guess
that is what she is used to selling. So without looking at who she
was selling to she just launched. I listened to her confused at
first and then gently pointed out to her that I have a king-sized
chest on me and enhancing them could be dangerous to the general
public. Put an eye out or something.

She looked confused ("someone doesn't want to lift and
accentuate?") and then went for comfort. I have TOLD her the kids
need a little control and she can't figure out to offer me a control
model? Does VS even have a control model? Aren't they encouraging
breast-mania? Not that there is anything wrong with that...

Finally I gently interrupted her and told her that they didn't
really carry my size. "I'm a 52D" I said. She paused, you could see
the hamster wheel turning, and then says "We have up to 46" like it
was an option I hadn't even thought of yet. I stood there a second
waiting for the rest of her sentence. NO, she was offering something
like 4 sizes too small.

I didn't know what to say to her and I didn't want to be rude
because she was a nice little gal. So I just smiled and wandered
away like I was looking at the merchandise.

February 11, 2004


I decided that the ranting and raving in my head would be better
put to use written out. That sounded a little scary. I don't hear
voices, I swear. But I do "write" in my head and replay scenarios
(like I did at 6:30 this morning instead of sleeping). Journaling is
healthy and it gives me some release. So there you go. One of the
many reasons I've joined the mass of bloggers out there.