Ladies, back me up on this one. You've all heard horror stories involving some idiot not only mistaking an overweight woman as being pregnant, but also remarking on it to her. You gasp and think, "Oh, God. That would be the worst."

Trust me, that's not the worst. I know because yesterday the worst happened to me.

At work yesterday, this woman who has always been nice to me apparently decided to turn me into a sobbing wreck. She reaches over, cups my stomach, and asks, "What is this??"

I stared at her, completely shocked. I thought to myself, "Is she asking if I'm pregnant?"

If only. It would have been a hundred times better to think that this woman, let's call her The Devil, had merely misinterpreted my extra weight.

I finally managed to squeak out an answer: "Me."

Forgive me for not thinking of something more clever to say. I guess it was the mortification of a pregnancy implication in front of everyone at the library that numbed my brain.

She cocks an eyebrow and drawls, "Girrrrl, you better start watching yourself."

I had no words. None. Not a single verb or noun sprang to my mind.

I can feel the heat rising to my face, air cutting off in my throat. The Devil begins talking about how she is so thin and could probably use some of my fat.

The Devil cocks her head and says, "You have to tell me what kind of food you eat. Do you eat lots of candy?"

Candy? Did she just ask me if I eat lots of candy?

The Devil continues. "Because I'm so thin, maybe I should do what you do. I eat all the time, but I only eat healthy things. You must eat a lot of candy and ice cream and lots of doughnuts."

I don't look to be sure, but I feel people turning to look up at the counter where I'm staring resolutely down as The Devil makes me feel like a disgusting, slovenly pig. I begin blinking heavily because I refuse to cry in front of this woman. And yet I can say nothing back to her.

Before I can escape, she adds one final comment. "You better be careful, or Carol and Marlene are just going to feed you until you pop."

I've never been so humiliated in my life. And worse than anything, I felt so fucking stupid. I went straight home to my mommy and sobbed.

I can't even remember everything that woman said to me, but I know there was more. I know I should have stood up for myself, but I think I was afraid of drawing even more attention to the situation. And I couldn't swear at her because I was at work. I almost followed her out of the library to ask in what world would it be considered appropriate or acceptable to say the things she'd just said to me. I wanted to say a lot of things, but I'm sure I either would have started crying or started swearing at her.

What's truly awful is that, previous to this, I had been so proud of myself for continuing with my Curves workouts and signing up for a 4-mile race as a part of this weekend's town festivities. And all it took was one woman degrading me in front of co-workers (who claim they didn't hear any of this) and library patrons to make me feel like a pathetic loser.

Well, I cried last night. And today, I'm done with feeling bad about myself. Anybody who can't accept me because of my weight is just a douchebag, anyhow. The thing is, I started working out again to please myself, to be happy with myself. It wasn't to prove a point to anyone else or to get someone to like me. I have nothing to prove to others. I have awesome friends and a supportive family, and that's good enough for me.

Anyway, as I wrote above, I entered a 4-mile race this morning. It's our annual Liberty Fest days in town, and apparently every year there's this little race called The Fishy Four. The "Four" obviously comes from the number of miles participants run or walk. The "Fishy" part comes, I assume, from the fact that we're a lake town and get most of our tourists because of the lakes. Oh, and because it's part of our town logo. See pictures below.

So, my boss Carol and I registered at about 7:45 this morning, got our free T-shirts for getting there early, then joined a crowd of 345 at the starting line. Carol and I walked the race, which began at the beach, and extended down to the airport and around the island and back. Whew. I think for newbies we did pretty well. At least, we didn't come in last place. Close, but not last. :) It was sunny out with a nice breeze that kept us pretty cool through all the little hills. My finishing time was 1:15:18. I don't know what place I was in because, by that time, they'd just stopped giving them. hahaha Sad but true. After we crossed the finish line, we headed back up to the main crowd to claim our door prizes. Carol won a 12-pack of Caffeine Free Diet Pepsi, which she loathes. I won a package of golf balls, with which I have not decided what to do.

My participant T-shirt. I got an XL, thinking it would be a goal for me to be able to fit into it. Then I got it home and realized it was a Men's XL. I don't think I'll have any trouble getting that bad boy on.

Close up. I told Carol that the shirt reminded me of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

My balls.

Confession Time!

Most of my readers are music snobs. Admit it. You've already bought the new White Stripes album. You've gone to see Feist in concert. You're on a first-name basis with Gwen Stefani. You liked Regina Spektor before she hit the big time. It's part of why I love you. No, I'm not getting mushy, I'm just softening you up for what's to come.

And because of you dear music snobs, my taste in music has matured into something to be reckoned with. (Er...just go with it.) Anyone who received my first mix cd that I sent to the Librarian's Revenge members must have noted the difference between it and my last mix, Heart of a Nerd. I mean, even Kristen (who I think promptly threw my first mix in the trash) called me and said, "You bitch, this mix is really good!"

Now, even though my music library isn't quite the vast empire of awesomeness like yours, *cough*Rachel*cough*, I'd like to point out that we all have our weaknesses for musicians or bands that don't quite hold up to the average music snob's standards. A dear friend who shall remain nameless (ah, you can figure it out), likes to get her groove on to Jennifer Lopez. Some of you fancy Britney Spears. Perhaps you only listen to The Smiths. I'm just saying, we all have our weaknesses. Are you nodding along? Thinking to yourself, "Why, yes, I admit that I did buy Paula Abdul's greatest hits for $1 at that garage sale." Or maybe, "Seriously, you guys totally need to check out Mandy Moore's new cd!" Okay, keep that in mind.

So, here's my confession. I'm currently crushing on American Idol Season 5 third-place finisher Elliott Yamin.

I can't help it! With his curly hair and scruffy beard, crooning to me in his awkward, white-boy fashion. It's stinking adorable! And if you haven't heard him lately because, you know, you're too cool to listen to pop radio, here's your chance. Open your heart and let Elliott in.

Watch the video of Elliott's single, Wait For You.

"I am so not competitive. In fact, I am the least non-competitive. So I win."

MIS-ER-A-BLE

Yes, I'm feeling miserable. I have a summer cold. Or it's sinuses. Whatever. The point is, I feel like crap. It's been a week of this vile wretchedness.

I'm trying to eat my lunch, which seems to be impossible because as soon as I take a bite or lift the fork, someone comes to ask me something.

On Saturday, Amanda, Jersey, and I drove around to some garage sales to see what fantastic junk we could buy. Jerz got some bargain toys, clothes and a few videos. I purchased some Halloween decorations (unused) for the apartment I hope to someday have. Since it was also Aquafest in Rice Lake, we hoped to take Jersey on some kiddie rides for the first time. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. No, it didn't rain. No, we didn't run out of money. No, Jersey didn't fall asleep.

The reason Jersey didn't get to experience her first fair was because my mother-effing car died in the middle of the mall parking lot. And of course, I didn't own a cell phone. Amanda has one, but she could only text. Sending out S.O.S. texts at a rate that would surely have made Kimberly Yeo proud, Amanda finally got a response that good old Gramps was on the way. In the meantime, Jersey started having a temper tantrum. Something about being a green werewolf. So I said, "Okay, you're a green werewolf!" And she screamed, "No! I not a green werewolf. I'm a purple werewolf!" Ai yi yi. Since it was too hot to sit in the car, I sent Amanda and the green/purple werewolf into the mall to cool off. I got sunburned waiting for the g'rents.

Of course, Grandpa got it running in no time, without using special tricks such as jumping the battery. No, no. All he had to do was turn the key and it started. I mean, why wouldn't that work for someone other than me, right? Ugh. So he followed me home. My uncle came over yesterday doing some voodoo tests and declaring it fine. So...who knows. Anyway, to avoid being stuck on the side of the road with no means of communication, I finally got another cell phone. It's just one of those pay-as-you-go phones that I'll mainly use for emergencies, but I feel slightly cooler. Cool, yet blowing my nose every 3 seconds. Ah, the fabulous life I lead.

Anyway, here are a few more pics. Enjoy.

Yes, the side of her pirate ship-shaped pool does read "The Scurvy Dog."

My Preciouses

This is my cousin Andrew's son Zayne. Zayne's grandma brought him over to visit today. Yay for digital cameras!




Boo for April's shaky hands. He almost looks like he's gonna flip me off. Andrew's son, indeed.




Me and Jersey. Yes, that is a picture of ice cream on her shirt. And despite the look on her face, she wasn't trying to get away from me.





Yesterday was my grandpa's birthday (81) and my grandparent's 58th wedding anniversary. We had a little picnic outside. Jersey was fascinated with all the pinecones and counted them endlessly.




I don't know what she's doing, but it makes me laugh.



Amanda holding Aaliyah last week at my cousin's graduation party.

Aaliyah tried many times to take Auntie April's camera away.

Aaliyah's favorite game is to toss keys on the floor, have Auntie April pick them up and hand them back, then throw them on the floor again. Oh, the hours of fun we had.

"Someday a boy will fall in love with all my flaws, and he sure will be the lucky one."

Let me tell you why crime doesn't pay, boys and girls. It's a little thing called karma. See, it's just like Earl says, if you do bad things, bad things happen to you. It's a real kick in the ass.

It all started on a sunny Sunday afternoon. I went shopping with my mom to pick out a new swimming pool for Jersey. We picked out several other things that my mom needed to buy as well, including a vacuum cleaner. I shoved the vacuum in the cart, and we piled everything else around it. After paying for it all, I asked the check-out girl if she needed to run the vacuum cleaner box over the desensitizing pad so that it wouldn't set off the doors, which I knew it would. She kinda sneered and said no, the alarm wouldn't go off. But of course, it did. I shoved the cart back over to her and rolled my eyes. (I know you think this is bitchy, but she thought she was so cool teaching the new guy how to ring up items and just dismissed me. So it's her fault.) Anyway, after we finally got back out to the car and started unloading it into the trunk, I noticed an item that wasn't in a shopping bag. I asked mom if we'd paid for it.
Mom: We did now, put it in the bag.
Me: But did--
Mom: Put it in the bag.
Me: But we--
Mom: PUT IT IN THE BAG!!

Hot with shame, I shoved it in the bag and made a beeline for my seat. I was shaking, certain I was going to be arrested at any moment. I demanded that my mom buy me a strawberry shake in which to drown my sorrows. I was sick all night, both from guilt and strawberry shake cramps.

Ah, Monday morning. Still exhausted from a night of tossing and turning, I stumbled to work. The usual crazies annoyed the hell out of me. Then later that afternoon I had a dentist appointment to take care of a cavity. After numbing my gums and tooth, the dentist began drilling. I flinched violently as I could still feel it! "Oops," he said. "Looks like we'll need to numb it some more." Ya think?? So he stabs me about 7 more times with the needle, pressing down painfully on my gums with his thumb to "massage" the novacaine in deeper. He leaves to do whatever dentists do when they leave a room, waiting for me to go completely numb.

Then, just as my tongue feels like a dead slug in my mouth, the dental hygienist, who has been silent up until this point, starts asking me questions. I try to answer without biting my tongue. Then I find out that her oldest brother was in my grade in high school. And I remember that I kicked him savagely in the knee in 9th grade for continually touching me. So now my face is numb, the dentist is drilling my tooth, and I'm trying desperately not to giggle as I replay in my mind an enraged adolescent April kicking a boy in the kneecap.

Then the hygienist is finished with her shift, so the dentist's wife takes over. Everything goes along smoothly. I start sitting up in the chair to get ready to leave, and wifey says, "Your perm looks nice, by the way."

I cringe in horror, start pathetically shaking my head no because I can't speak. She laughs and says, "I know, I'm just teasing you." Take pity on the half-paralyzed face girl, would you?

Later that night, while my face was still numb (I couldn't even feel my ear!), Nikki called to talk to me about the continual drama between her and my brother. I won't go into it. But it was difficult to be nice and carry on a conversation when my tongue lies limply in my mouth. (Attractive, isn't it?)

Tuesday I worked alone at the library, and it was a madhouse. Extremely busy. At one point, I had about 7-8 people lined up at the circ desk, all needing my help and attention. One boy threw a tantrum because I couldn't find him a Loony Tunes movie. And a woman needed me to make a copy of something for her. I told her that the photocopier was down, and she yells, "Don't do this to me!!" So I pushed up my shirt sleeves and fixed the copier. (Basically, I replaced the toner. But whatev. It was dirty.) Then my ex-stepdad walked in. Drunk. Wanting me to fix his mp3 player. He wasn't fall-down drunk, but he still managed to slur his words. And he almost got to the crying point (yes, he's that sort of drunk). Then it was all, "Oh, I don't want to lose you kids." Silence. "But I guess I already did." Der. Anyway, I finally told him that I had work to do and got him to am-scray. Ai yi yi.

Kristen and I talked last night, and I confessed all that had happened. She laughed a lot at my mishaps. "You have to admit," she said, "it is pretty funny."

Later, after I got off the phone, I decided to paint my nails since I haven't done so in months and months. *sigh* Of course, the top fell off of the brush, and I ended up getting polish all over my hand. And foot. Don't believe me?





And my jaw still aches from the dentist's oh-so-tender massage. So take a lesson from Auntie April, boys and girls. Don't go shopping with my mother.

And all of that time you thought I was sad, I was trying to remember your name.

Here are a few more Jersey and Aaliyah pictures from last week. I didn't get a chance to post them sooner due to work and/or the Internet not working.

My friend Sharon and I went to a softball game Thursday night after having Chinese for dinner. We went to cheer on our friend, Pete. But he never showed up. We still had fun anyway. The pitcher for the other team was this young guy with fluffy, curly hair that would bounce when he ran. We called him Sanjaya. I tried to take a pic, but he was too far away. I did get to hear another baseball player's cell phone go off, though. Why is that interesting, you ask? Well, because his ringtone was "YMCA" by The Village People, that's why.

Anyway, the other major thing that happened was that I recently got in touch with Tony again after a 2-year silence. He's actually on Myspace, and my friend Jen encouraged me to email him. Some of my dear friends were justifiably hesitant about it. I know that they only had my best interests at heart and that they were worried that I'd start liking him again. But I missed him and emailed him anyway. And guess what? After several emails and one instant messaging chat, I can honestly say that those old feelings have not resurfaced. In fact, it's such an amazing relief to be able to close that chapter so completely. I'd like to remain friends with Tony, but even by his own admission, he has a lot of growing up to do. Though there are qualities that he possesses that I'm sure I'll look for in another guy, he is by no means the one. You know?

YEEESSSSSSSS!!