Today, I must do taxes.
Then I'll do some taxes.
Then some more taxes.
Then I'll think about actually doing some taxes.
I am at a complete loss. My Tax Man, my People, as they say now, is in Iraq. Nothing like having your ex-husband doing your taxes each year, but he seems to enjoy it. Mine are supposedly incredibly simple.
Anxiety dreams have clouded my wakening the last two mornings. I have no idea what Pheeb, the best friend of my HS boyfriend, has to do with my taxes or why he had a circus with trapeze artists in his backyard, but I'll just chalk it up to anxiety. In retrospect, I also have no idea why he asked me to that fraternity house party weekend around 1983, refused to buy us food, didn't make me feel comfortable, had a rather distant quickie, then did some sort of psychedelics with his college best buddy and ended up on the roof of the hotel, after which all his fraternity brothers apologized profusely to me. Maybe it's why he was embarrassed to see me at the 20th class reunion.
Life and taxes are mysteries to me.
We're slotted to camp with Scouts this weekend and I bought schloodles of food and supplies last evening, only to come home to the pre-cancellation email. I knew rain was in the forecast, but didn't realize about the thunderstorms. Guess we'll be having a bunch of chicken kabobs around here. And cinnamon buns. Okay, I had one when I realized the camping would be canceled.
Speaking of such, I'm still a pound above my pre-cruise weight, but at present it might by PMS-y bloated. Although I ate a burger (salad, no fries) when I took J out on Monday, I have been relatively good. Oh, yeah. Except for the cinnamon bun.
Norma and I have done pretty well walking. She's lost 45lbs in 18 months through exercise and diet. I see her as a size 10 or 12 now, but she still has size 14-16 eyes. And wears size 2X clothes because she doesn't want to buy new. She's Mormon, so that explains some, but she fears being attractive, too. We both dislike the hypocrisy that comes with people suddenly being attracted, because we've lost weight. We both focus on the person inside, whether it is someone we date or ourselves.
I have lots of fears about losing weight. For example, my infertile self kinda likes feeling and looking a little pregnant. There's some comfort to that, something I cannot achieve in a different fashion. Weight also tends to keep people at a distance and, with my love-hate relationship with people, sometimes that's a good thing. Also, last time I weighed 115, I was big headed about it, could not handle the attention. These sorts of things combined to make me want the weight in a protective fashion. What about you? Why do you want or not want the weight? I'm not talking supposed health benefits, either. What is really going on as we hang on to the pounds?
ETA: Sorry about the comments. Changed my post and they got deleted. Was enjoying the discussion.