So, I did it. Which is not to say I’m doing it. Only that I’m opening myself up to the possibility of doing it.
I signed up, once again, for the Chicago Marathon. Only this time, the fee is much heftier, there’s a lottery, and my dad is doing it with me.
… That is, if we get in.
And if we don’t, fear not! Where one marathon has a lottery, another one doesn’t and is generally much cheaper. Either way, I’m running a marathon again this year.
That is, if my body agrees with me. I ran on Tuesday but it was more like hobbling. Eventually (and by eventually, I mean after 5 minutes), I broke down and started doing 3/2s. I was listening to classical music to try and help my concentration, but… yeah. That didn’t fucking work.
My musical workout choices, as of late, have been strange, but I’m hoping I can find something to lose myself in. The other day I even tried streaming NPR (ha! Me! NPR! LEARNING THINGS… and then my phone was like, “Yes, Amanda, but what are you really trying to accomplish here?” and stopped streaming the minute I stepped outside).
They say positive mental attitude has a lot to do with it. So I walk out of my house thinking, “You can do this, you can do this,” and then I start running and it’s like, “Oh, no you can’t.” I am, as they say, a work in progress.
And then today, I did something every woman fears. I went to David’s Bridal to get my bridesmaid’s dress for my BFF’s wedding in August. I texted my friend, telling her that I would simply go in there, request a size 12, and be smaller by August. So I went in there, requested a size 12, and the lady very nicely and perkily said, “Um, have you been fitted for the dress?” And I very nicely and promptly explained to her that no, I hadn’t, but I didn’t really need to be. I had – on my own! – factored in my stupid stomach and my stupid boobs and I was comfortable with knowing that in REAL life, I was a size 10, and that in a galaxy far, far away I used to be a size 6, and…
(Can I break for a second here? Because I need to mention something called back fat. If you’ve read this regularly, you know I talk about weight almost every other post. But like, lately, I’ve noticed fat in areas I didn’t even know you COULD get fat. Like, seriously? Skin is smooth if I’m playing the hunchback of Notre Dame, but the minute I straighten up, I got chicken breasts at my sides? The fuck? I mean, you’d think that if the world wanted you to have good posture, they wouldn’t leave you to contend with that kind of a choice!)
So anyway. I’m thinking of all of this, and I just want to go about my day without thinking about why people resort to liposuction, but then I realize that the whole world is a David’s Bridal and no one’s gonna be comfortable, ever. So I reluctantly get fitted…
… and I’m a size 14. I’m blaming the boobs. But the dress isn’t going to be ready until mid-June, so all I have to do is just… well, we all know I will eat my feelings. We’ll just hope for the best.
Coming off of that disaster, I decide to get my cracked iPhone replaced, but the first store is out of the phone I want (except for a hot pink option… and um. No), and the second store is having some sort of computer malfunction where they can’t give me the discount that amounts to the phone being free. Alas, my cracked iPhone and I went sadly home, hoping for brighter futures and better tomorrows.
Have a good night, all.