on being busy (and the phantom pregnancy)...

I've actually been busy lately. Which has been both really weird and really awesome at the same time.

Having said that, I kind of don't know how to handle it considering I'm easily overwhelmed and tend to freak out if I have more than two things to accomplish within the span of one day. (It's a little ridiculous, really.) But, I'm managing. It kind of feels good to have so many full days, you know?

Aside from my regular 40-hour work week, I've been focusing a lot on two additional things: getting healthy and working to build my etsy shop into more than just a hobby. So, much of my at-home time is spent embroidering and assembling and stitching and cutting (fabric, not myself, in case you were worried). I have a ridiculous amount of custom orders that I have been working on, which is actually quite delightful. I love when people contact me with a special request because I totally have one of those Sally Field moments: "You like me! You really like me!"

I may or may not recite that on a fairly regular basis. Maybe I have insecurity issues? Maybe I just have a girl-crush on Sally Field circa the Gidget days? Which apparently makes me a pedophile because I just checked Wikipedia and Gidget was supposedly fifteen-and-a-half?

Anyway.

Aside from all my crafting, I've also been attempting to get back into a regular running schedule. I'm frustrated, though, because apparently my efforts at the gym (which include being sweaty beyond all reason and attempting to blend into the wall) aren't paying off as much as they should be. Because I'm still gaining weight. And I do not approve of this, because it is not healthy weight - it is fluffy weight. Weight that makes me look at myself in the Forever 21 dressing room and nearly have an emotional breakdown under the horrible lighting. (For the record, it is probably not the best idea to go shopping after a happy hour that includes a huge plate of garlic noodles and Sam Adams Cherry Wheat.)

The thing is, I'm ten pounds heavier than I was at this time last year, and I'm ridiculously irritated about it. And mad at myself, because I know it's my fault. Last year I had worked hard to reach my goal weight, and then I just got lazy, I guess. The other day I was looking at a photo of myself from one year ago and found myself feeling really jealous. Of myself.

Which I'm sure is a new low.

I've been spending my time trying to find reasons for gaining another two pounds this week, which include, but are not limited to the following: maybe I have a thyroid condition, maybe I'm pregnant, maybe I'm dying. Or maybe I just need to stop buying cases of Bud Light at Costco. Whatever the case may be, I'm kind of over it. Gahhhhh.

I decided to test out the phantom pregnancy theory yesterday because I figured if I had a wee child manifesting itself inside of me, then maybe I'd be more pleasant about my tummy pooch. And I also had a mad craving for a Slurpee the other night and I don't even like Slurpees, which seems like a pretty accurate symptom of pregnancy to me. And I also kind of wanted to leave the pregnancy test in the bathroom and freak out Jay so maybe he'd buy me flowers or something.

(I never said I was logical. But I guess that's fairly obvious by now.)

Needless to say, the test came up negative. Which is probably for the best, considering I couldn't stop thinking about that bottle of almond champagne Jay and I finished off on Thursday, and our child would most likely be born without a face after a night like that. And I kind of don't think I could handle a faceless child right now.

So, back to the gym it is. (If someone could stop by our place and finish off the rest of the Bud Light and microwave popcorn in order to save me from myself, I'd be much obliged.)