Have you ever forgotten to wear your bra?

I did.  Well sort of.  I realized as soon as I was outside.  Apparently my brain has some association with the outdoors that includes breast support?

I stood at the top of the steps and contemplated my options.  My hands were full of trashbags from cleaning out of the pantry and going back through two locked doors with those bags seemed hard.

And then I realized.  I’m the only one who really cares.  And I just won’t.  So I kept walking.  And when I was driving to Kroger I was wondering whether I could ACTUALLY do it.  Go into Kroger with the girls unleashed.

I got gas and spent the whole time feeling like I was naked.

I parked the car, sat in the car, then reversed the car out of the parking space and went home. I couldn’t face Kroger with my boobs undocked.

It’s hard to say how much my natural antipathy for Kroger played into that, but it’s definite that my brain was screaming at me that I was naked.

It’s amazing that these free blowing breasts that I am so unaware of when I’m at home could become so all encompassing in my mind when I’m not at home.   Our brains are a blizzard of irrational associations and urges.  Today, despite fitting all the criteria for legal decency I felt like a naked school girl on test day.

Weekend Triumphs

imageI ended the week on a high note.  My brain has decided to climb over the rim of the Abyss of my depression and see the world.  Sunlight and Energy and Optimism.

I cannot even begin to tell you how magnificent that is.  I know it won’t last, but while I’m here I’m glorying in it.

Friday I looked up 3 recipes and put together a grocery list for them and then after work I went to the grocery store and shopped like grown up for the ingredients.   Most of you are wondering why that sentence is something wondrous to me.  Well, I hate to shop, I buy the same things everytime shop, and those things are always cheap frozen meals and sandwich fixings and cat food.  So this was a triumph of mental energy for me.

Yesterday a UTI that had been hovering annoyingly in the background for 2 days decided to get serious.  So I went to the Little Clinic and got tested and meds.  Like a grown up.  Again, you are thinking – uh, that seems like a normal thing to do, Sara.  YES.  It is.  It’s a totally normal thing which last week I would not have done.  I would have abused ibuprofen and tried to drink more water and hoped/pretended that it would just go away before I died of a kidney infection.  Seriously.  So.  I’m loud and proud about my normal action to get antibiotics.

Then I came home and cooked and cleaned.  Like that was just a thing I do.  I know!  Its so weird and wonderful.

Today I want to buy shoes.  This, of course, sounds like a wonderful fun thing to do.  But for me its a THING.  First of all, I want to buy some expensive shoes from Mephisto because I’m a fat middle aged woman who needs good shoes.

So I had to wait for my tax refund to get them.  I got that on Thursday.  But then I spent my shoe money on my UTI.  This is annoying.  Now if I buy the shoes I am going to be using the money I had earmarked for car repair/maintenance.  That seems like a frivolous way to spend potentially necessary money for car stuff.

So now I’m debating.  I need new shoes in any case.  I think my ankle pain is because my current shoes have worn soles and so they are putting pressure on the joint in an odd way.   Also I’m fat.  I keep saying that because the scale yesterday was VERY RUDE to me.  I may need to start facing my eating habits.  But that’s off the subject.

The point, which I keep wandering away from, is should I buy the expensive shoes or just go to DSW and find something from the clearance rack?

I should probably go to DSW.  Sometimes you can find a great quality shoe for stupid cheap on clearance.  But that NEVER happens when you are actually looking for it.  It only happens when you are killing time while your friend is buying shoes or just shopping to be social with your sister or something.  Intention is never part of good deals.

Anyway, I’m in a good enough place that going to DSW is an actual possible thing I could do.  So that is in favor of that plan.

What do you guys think?  Go to the locally owned shoe store and get a good pair of shoes or just go to DSW or just stay home and cook?

Next up on It’s A Thought…. Women Warriors.  A metaphor with challenges.

Funny Story…

I used to be VERY VERY fat.  400lbs.

I wore dresses to work, but not pantyhose because being that fat and putting on pantyhose is similar in effort to walking up Everest.

I had a drawer full of underwear.  And I hated to do laundry.  I didn’t do the laundry until I had no underwear left to wear.  I never threw out underwear.  And so toward the end of the cycle I would be down to the “emergency” underwear.  Underwear with little or no elastic at the waist and legs.  Ugly, Granny underwear.  Giant Ugly Granny Underwear. Probably with at least one hole.

One day, I wore my emergency underwear to work, with a dress.  All day long the underwear slowly slid down my body.  I would find subtle ways to hold it up while walking, by keeping my hand on my hip. But mostly I focused on holding my legs together as much as possible when walking, so that even if the waist fell down and was hanging below my crotch, I still had the damn underwear on.

Several times a day I would go into the bathroom to correct the upside down Giant Granny Underwear situation.

After work, I stopped by the grocery store and then drove home.   I lived in a small uptown area.  The streets are lined with Mercedes, Range Rovers, the occasional Rolls.  Lots of upscale restaurants and boutiques.  People would stroll the sidewalks and socialize.

I parked my car across the street and down the block from my building.  The Giant Grannies had slowly crept downward while I was shopping.  But when I got out of the car, my hands filled with grocery bags, I could feel it was pretty bad.  Emergency Giant Ugly Granny Undies were moving into the upside down position.

I walked carefully, with my thighs clenched together, my hands too full of groceries to try and hold them up. Then I had to cross the street.  I stepped off the curb without incident.   I still had the Ugly Grannies held up at the crotch, but the waist was hanging down half way to my knees.

I reached the other side, stepped up on the curb, my legs parted and that was the end of it.  Giant Granny Underwear floated down to my ankles.

I stepped out of them and left them in the gutter, without a backward glance.  Like nothing had happened.

It was a defining moment in my life.

The next morning they were gone.  Someone picked up my Emergency Giant Ugly Granny Undies and took them home.

Somedays I feel like the Outsider

I am single.  I want to remain single.

But a good deal of what I see on the internet is what most of the world wants – marriage or how to find a marriageable human.

I don’t own a TV.  I don’t want one.  I do occasionally watch a show on Netflix or something.

But a good deal of what I see on the internet is about some TV show.

I am a blob.  I rarely move except to get to work and to get home from work.  This is depression.

But a good deal of what I see on the internet is about people traveling or exercising or going to bar/party/restaurant.

Most days I don’t even notice this.  But today I am acutely aware that I am not the norm.  That I don’t fit any of the standards.  I on the outside.

I’m not sure why it normally doesn’t bother me, but today it feels like I’m standing awkwardly at a party I accidentally crashed.

Its snowing and I found a reason to smile about it

Its quiet.

I live on a very busy corner with a traffic light and a bus stop.

Its 915am and no one is on either the street.  The silence is wonderful.

When an occasional car does drive by they are silenced by the snow on the road.

Its BEAUTIFUL.  Its like magic.

Also, its pretty.  But that is tempered by the fact that I’m going to have clean the car off in a couple of hours.  The silence let me sleep without the usual wake up calls from the traffic.

 

 

 

That Bitch, Winter, Showed Up.

Late and with an attitude.

I’m a bit peeved at the inappropriateness of Winter’s party dress this week.

It was 12 degrees at noon today when I went to work. Tonight the low is going to be 3 degrees.  THREE.

This is CINCINNATI, not Canada.  12 degrees is Canada, possibly warm sunny shores in Alaska, but it is NOT Cincinnati. We have a different agreement.

I’m just saying.  Someone needs to address it with her.  She’s getting all kinds of pushy and more than a bit trampy.

I’m sending a note to Weather HR.

Giant Plans for My Weekend*

TONIGHT:  Watch The Martian.  Lily and I are in our preferred positions on the bed and we are primed for the Movie Event of the Evening.

Tomorrow I’m going to take my sanity in my hands and go to see Star Wars.  I was going to wait, but the chances of it being spoiled are getting too large, so.

And then.  AND Then.  I will be going to purchase a new personal toy.  Mine broke 3 weeks ago and it has now become sort of annoying.  I’m amazed it hasn’t bothered me sooner and more…There was a time when this would have been a minor crisis that would have been dealt with within 48 hours if not 24.   Depression – sometimes it works in your favor.  Or maybe I’m just getting older.

Finally, to clean up a good weekend, I’m going to purchase a bra.  Because sometimes you have to do shitty things.  And purchasing bras is one of them.  I’m amused that my boss is purchasing my bra though.  He gave me $50 gift certificate to Macys.  So the bra is on him!

*Giant is a relative term.  In my life this is SUPER busy.

Christmas Thunderstorms.

generic-lightning-shotjpg-1cd4e2947aad4cf1We are having a big loud thunderstorm.  Like in July.  But at Christmas.

I am liking it.  Because its odd and out of place and those sorts things make me smile.

I certainly won’t complain about a warm winter.  Especially after having such a mild summer.  I fully expected to pay for such a pleasant summer with a non-stop blizzard starting mid November and ending about Easter.

But sometimes the universe gives you Chaos and Kittens (or Thunderstorms) instead of Chaos and Death (or Blizzards).  So here’s the kittens and thunderstorms at Christmas.

Farts, Vibrators and Careers

faceThere are a large number of utterly silly things that my brain has shoved into the SHAME folder.

I recognize that its silly. I even recognize that pulling the stuff out of the folder and introducing them to the public at large would eventually eliminate the SHAME folder all together.

But SHAME is something of a habit. A process of expectations about what will happen if these things are mentioned and so…

The first of the Silly Shame files is Farts.
I fart. I would love to meet people and start the conversation by saying, “Hi, I’m Sara and I fart. Sometimes I fart unexpectedly and uncontrollably and at conspicuously odd moments. I feel I should just mention that up front.” Put it on top of the rug with the coffee table rather than sweep it under with the dust bunnies.

As things currently stand, I fart and then don’t mention it. Obviously everyone heard it. No one says anything because I didn’t. And then it just there. The gaseous elephant in the room.

The second of the Silly Shame Files is Vibrators.
I masturbate. So does everyone else. My vibrator died last week and I’m wondering where do other people go to buy a good vibrator in town?  Is the place I go really not up to par?  Is it the only place? Do other people have a preference of type? This should be discussed as often as shoes and good wine. There are so many facets to it. What if I’m not considering them all?

I mean I suppose I could google it, but then I would have to remember to erase the internet history and we are back at the SHAME folder again. Because no one should discuss this… I guess.

The third of the Silly Shame Files is I used to have a damn good career. I know,whose ashamed of that, right? Well, its more nuanced than that. Because if people know I used to have a damn fine career, making good money, heading to the corner office with actual door and officer parking. They will want to know why I’m now working a low paying job with no benefit and no future. And there it is – SHAME.

I have failed. I’m failing. I’m a mess. Actually the ‘I’m a mess’ part sums up the shame I would like to introduce and drag its kicking and screaming ass out into the light.

So I really think its best if I don’t go to any parties soon.  I may well introduce myself as a flatulent masturbater who used to have a future but pissed it away and is now mostly interested in blogging and where to get her next vibrator.

Cross me off the guest list.  Its best for everyone. `