Halloween Foibles

Halloween. A pretty neat day by all accounts. You get to dress up and go to work in things you never would dream of at any other point in time - stuff that's left to your fantasy life.

For me, this means that I get to drag out some of my costumes that I've made either during my time with the SCA or ones that I made for various plays/operas that I participated in many, many years ago. This year, I decided to drag out my Gibson Girl ballgown I made in 1993 when I was the lead in The Merry Widow. It's blue taffeta with black trim and is beautiful. Kangaroo bodice, slim front profile skirt spilling into a gored and flared back. Gorgeous. *sigh* I would wear an outfit like this every day if I could. Corset and all.

I haven't been able to fit into this dress in quite a long time, and with my weight loss, it finally fits again. It's kind of cool because when I made it, I only weighed about 160 and it was fitted perfectly to me. Now at 190 pounds, it fits again and is actually a bit loose in the waist when I wear my corset. Hah!

I was kind of cruising for a let-down, however. While people may ooh and ahhh over your outfit, they are more excited about those who wear something shocking, like the guy dressing as a cheerleader complete with fake rack, wig and outrageous makeup or someone dressing ghoulishly. Obviously, most people have no clue about the era the dress represents (Renaissance? Umm, try a couple of centuries later, my friend! Princess? WTFF? I'm not wearing a tiara, honey.), and let's face it, nobody in the modern workforce is used to dealing with women in trained skirts. *sigh* It did get me more doors opened for me than usual, though. Chivalry isn't dead when a man sees a woman in an evening gown!

I dress for me first and foremost, my husband second. Everybody else can fall in line afterwards and I could care less. But for some reason on Halloween, I want my efforts to be noticed, even though I am dressing for myself, and I want people to think that my costumes are the neatest thing they've ever seen. I may have spent weeks making this costume all those years ago, but people don't care when it comes to a costume contest. They want the cross-dresser, or the guy dressed as Jack Sparrow. Guess I'm just a costume snob. Sucks to be me, eh?

So, I'm relegated to the costume dustbin again. Everybody around here knows that I dress spectacularly on Halloween, but it's not what they like to see. It doesn't matter if I weigh 315 pounds or 190. Some things never change. I need to get over it and put my big girl panties on, don't I? After all, it's pretty silly to get upset over a stupid contest.

But it just goes to show you. Some things don't magically turn around if you lose the weight. I still get inferiority complexes over the simplest of things, things that I perceive as a rejection of me, when they're more than likely nothing of the sort. My weight has nothing to do with it. Never has and never will. This may be one of the more freeing revelations I have come to of late. Doesn't take the sting entirely away, but it wakens me to the realization that yes, my perceptions of things control my reality by bringing me up or taking me down. The choice is mine.

Which choice will you make?

It's The Little Things That Matter in Life . . .

The Husband and I are a very interesting mix of high-maintenance and low-maintenance in the items that we purchase around the house and for ourselves. For instance, we could care less that our carpet has the appearance of a moth-eaten rag, but by all that is holy, we MUST have a very large TV, preferably projection and definitely widescreen - the current one is 52". We shop for the vast majority of our every-day necessities at Wal-Mart or KMart to pinch the pennies, but we HAVE to have whole milk mozarella cheese to add to our pizza. None of this low-fat crap on our pizza pies, dammit! Mayonnaise must be Best Foods brand. Ketchup? Eh, every brand tastes the same. Get whatever's cheapest. You get the picture. I love a bargain, but some things are worth their weight in gold and when we need it, we spend the Benjamins if necessary.

One area that we have always been very, very picky is our bedding. For years we had to order the satin sheets that we loved so very much from Fingerhut of all places because back in the 90s, there was just no where else that we could find them, aside from driving out of town and going from place to place irritating ourselves to no end. Same thing with our comforters. Must be satin. It's totally a texture thing, and we admit that we're high maintenance about it.

In the year before I had my DS, we were unable to find satin sheets ANYWHERE for under $200 just for a flat sheet, so we condescended to get a high-quality 400 thread-count cotton sateen sheet set. It met the softness that we craved, but didn't have the true slippery quality of satin that we like. But since we had to get something new, it would do. For now. We didn't replace our comforter because we hated everything that was out there.

But this weekend, I had had enough. Enough of a miss-matched sheet and comforter set (dark plum sheets, blue satin pillowcases, blue satin comforter, enough of a ripped comforter to boot. It was way past time to search something out. So, I went shopping. And found the motherlode.

At Mervyns, they are FINALLY shaping up to our reality and have actual full sets of satin sheets for sale! Whoo-hooo! And look! They come in California King. Bonus! But now, for a comforter. Hrm. Ugly. Ugly. Ugly. Ugly. Oooh! Pretty! That's nice too, but not the right size. Sigh. Ugly. Ugly. Ugly. Tah-dah! We have a winnah!

And look at this. It's all ON SALE! $500 worth of bedding for the price of $200! Can't beat that with a stick, people! So we are now the proud owners of all new scarlet satin sheets and a deep scarlet and gold embroidered comforter set. And boy, howdy, are they nice and toasty warm. They will be the perfect weight for summer as well - the benefit of satin is that it feels so nice and cool in the summer, which is a huge help for us with falling asleep.

I'll be honest here. We have never, EVER had a bedding set that has looked as nice as this one. Ever. I'm a little bit stunned, but a little bit giddy. I love my bedding. We didn't want to get out of bed this morning, we were reveling in it so much. Now I just need a bedstead that would actually look nice with this new bedding, rather than the converted waterbed thing that we've got going on. (Remember what I said about being high maintenance in some places and low in others? Yeah, it's laid out for you right there on our bed. *sigh* We're so wierd.)

I think I'm going to head back today and pick up another satin sheet set for a backup. Perhaps in black. You can NEVER have enough good satin sheets. Because who knows when they're going to take them away from us again!

I fit into WHAT?

I am in that lovely inbetween stage. The one where I have to buy clothing to fit the larger parts of my body instead of the smaller parts. The reason for this? Excess skin. Ugh. This has led to much aggravation in shopping and made me just flat-out give up until such time as a lovely scalpel can take care of the problem (hopefully soon! Eeee!). I mean, who wants to buy something that's two sizes too big for your chest because it's what you need to keep your upper arms happy? Gah. Frustration abounds.

But there have been some happy lights in the clothing department, I have to say. If I use a body shaper, I comfortably fit into a size 12 skirt. Yes, a 12. One size smaller than my goal size. Not too bad if I say so myself. And once I get rid of this excess stomach, I will be fitting these things without the body shaper in an even smaller size, and who can complain about that, right?

Getting into the size 12 was, of course, accompanied by the usual mind-fuck that those of us who have lost a lot of weight go through. I mean, I can't possibly fit into that. Come on. You're kidding me. WHAT? It FITS! Huzzah, etc., etc. and accompanied by trying on every size from 18 down to the final 12. It is coming easier as more time goes on, thankfully. I would hate to be doing this same spiel over and over and over again for the rest of my life. It gets tiring to say the least, and mentally exhausting, having to beat myself up every time I go shopping.

Time, however, hasn't stopped the comments from coming. Now that I have moved back into the main building, my visibility level has gone WAY up. The time I was over in the trailer encompassed all of my weight loss up to this time, so to some people they are shocked at seeing literally half of the me that they expected to see. And once again, the explanations of how I lost it all are being trotted out. It's nice that everybody here has seen several other people go through WLS, so they are not condemning at all and have only seen successes, and not failures with which to nag me. I feel very lucky to be in a culture that is as understanding and supportive as this one and was a big part of my decision to do this. I knew that I would have built-in support both in the "been there, done that" kind and in the "we've seen what this can do - good for you for doing this!"

The downside of moving back into the main building, however, is the overabundance of treats everywhere one looks - including the community candy dish located right. In. My. Cube. Gahhh! Just keep drowing "hunger pangs" with Crystal Light is my mantra. If I'm not hungry, I won't eat. We'll see how long that lasts, however.

Eh, this is why I got the DS, right? Occasional treat and all that. Just not all the time. Must remember. Jerky is my friend!

Diary of the Disgruntled

Between last week and this week, it's been downright crappy. It's a combination of general malaise along with some family drama that could rival what gets shown on Jerry Springer. Add into that a nice dash of work stupidity and there you have it! A serious case of the blahs.

To wit:

• I have to move my office. A year and a half ago, they moved me from the main building into this smaller building because they "didn't have space in the main building." Now, they are moving me BACK into the main building - the same room even! - because "they need my space for program people." Nevermind that the main building had empty cubicles the whole time I was gone. It's an exercise in futility, I tell you.
• Because of Ehn Ehm See Eye, I am not allowed to move my computer myself. And because I was scheduled to have a tech come out yesterday at 3 p.m. and move my computer (oh, but not the monitor! It's not one of our pieces of equipment!), I have moved most of my physical stuff over there. Who didn't show up yesterday? That would be the tech. We are now sitting at 24+ hours late for the appointment. We are fuming.
• I will be sharing a cubicle for the first time in, well, ever. This is really disconcerting to me. I like my space. I like to not have someone breathing down my neck in my space. My new cubemate is actually a lovely person and I'm sure we'll get along fine, but I just hate the idea of sharing my space. Plus, I am messy and will have to shape up my act. Ugh.
• I ended up dumping my motorcycle in soft sand while looking for Thing One and Thing Two on Sunday. Since I had been riding on the pavement, I wasn't wearing my usual offroad gear and my shin got banged up by the foot peg because I didn't have my boots on. Ow. And hello bruise! So nice to see you!
• Two of my dogs are right pissing me off. The Aussie Shepherd and Cattle Dog have discovered that, hey! My legs? They are vaguely spring like. And the fence? We can just jump right on over it! Because those nasty Labradors that belong to Stupid Neighbor? They are encroaching on our territory and We! Must! Defend! But how do we get back over? Ooooooo! I'll just howl over here until the humans come out and get me. Stupid twits.
• Thing Two has developed an annoying habit of glossing over the instructions for her homework. This leads her to make silly mistakes. When said mistakes are pointed out by me and she is told to fix them, she bursts into tears. This makes my blood pressure skyrocket and just want to scream at her. I am having to take mommy time-outs to get myself under control. But I totally lost my shit on her last night because it kept happening over and over and over again. I am a horrible mommy. Crap.
• A silly Auntie who doesn't know how to keep important information from a disreputable family member who is not trusted for various and assorted reasons. Information that had been kept confidential for a very long time and has caused much consternation amongst family members now that we know that he has it. Worry wart city, here we come!

At least there is a couple pieces of glitter amongst all the ick. The office move that I am dreading will get me away from Annoying Cow-worker that always 1) asks me how to do the same task (copying and pasting from Excel into Word) over and over and over and over again, 2) cannot stop himself from exclaiming "Boy is it quiet in here!" because obviously he needs it to be very loud for it to be a real workplace and 3) has an obsessive need to keep track of where everybody is and keep his fingers on whether or not people should be taking vacation or actually have leave. I am soooo happy that I will not have to deal with his crap on a daily basis. It's the only thing that I have to look forward to at this point.

I know that it will all get better, but I had to whine somewhere. Getting it out is good for the soul, eh?

Outsmithing the Wordsmith

Have I been sucked into a vacuum? I'm beginning to wonder if my brain has been completely drained of all grey matter and only dust and detrius is left in its wake.

I am attempting to read the Gormenghast Novels by Mervyn Peake, a contemporary of JRR Tolkein. I was perusing an article that bemoaned the fate of modern writers and how they are just not up to snuff. The article writer mentioned that these books would appeal to those who liked both Harry Potter and Tolkein. I thought to myself, "SCORE! New stuff to read!" and tottered off to Amazon and bought all three novels used for under $10.

I am finding it as hard to get through as Tolkein's Silmarilian. I have tried to read that book on four different occasions. I can't get as far as page 100. Bah!

The problem with the Gormenghast novels is that every. word. has. meaning. And that meaning must be expounded upon by more meanings. Because the meanings make it all meaningful and worthwile. *sigh*

Don't get me wrong. I like to be challenged in my reading. But this? Is beyond tiresome. Adding to the brain drain fatigue this is giving me, I'm honestly not interested in the story. The characters are not interesting at all, all their little idiotic idiosyncrasies included. They are dull, inscrutable, and completely un-relatable. Not that I think that all characters in a book need to be relatable, mind you. You do need some inscrutable things going on to make a book interesting, IMO. But this is a bit ridiculous.

I'm going to keep pressing on, however, and see if I can't make a breakthrough here. I mean this is supposed to be a great work of fiction, on par with the whole Lord of the Rings etc., etc. And I love those books and re-read them frequently. I wanted something epic but above the level of Harry Potter. Well, I got that, didn't I?

On the subject of books, I also recently picked up Stardust by Neil Gaiman. It is utterly charming, sweet and a very quick read. They did a good adaptation of it for the movie, IMO, but like most things, the book was better. However I do have one quibble. The book is marked for the YA market. That means the 9-15 year-old set. There is one very noticeable and graphic sex scene in the book. And this makes it appropriate for children just how? Am I becoming a curmudgeon in my dotage? I remember sneaking my romance novels when I was 15, but that was at 15. Sex scenes don't belong in what is supposed to be a PG-13 market. The moral slide continues as I get more and more grumpy about these sorts of things.