emotions

Never Have I Ever…

- Mel

I always lost this game. And by lost, I mean, got drunk first. It seemed in the days where a drinking game like “Never Have I Ever” was played, I was a little more carefree and took great pride in my stories. This too proper, classy portrayal of an aging lady who writes this now has a past where she played games like “Never Have I Ever”… and sometimes drunk twister. And yes, there was also strip poker on a couple of occasions (err, once in high school). I also created a kissing game in elementary school with the die from a Scattegories game (yes, I was very unsupervised as a minor). But that’s what I used to consider “winning.”

And I try SO HARD to remember who that person was. It doesn’t feel like me.

I wonder, as I’m ticking off another year on the 30-something calendar this week, if I’ve become SO uptight that I’m unable to have real fun. In effort to shed some perceptions of me as a Party Girl, I’ve gone so far to the other side that even I think I’m boring. Is this part of aging, in general, where we wistfully remember “the good old days” of our youth and have fond stories to embarrass your future children? And what if you don’t have children — who do you tell, the neighbors?

I had a pretty bad quarter-year crisis; I’m wondering if I should expect another one before I turn 40. A few months ago, I attended a local event hosted by a life coach, and all my self-analysis during her session led me to write in my notebook the words: HAVE MORE FUN.

My mid-year assessment says “no, I’m not having more fun.” For purposes of perfect metaphors, I’m running away from all of my problems. And if there’s anything that I fear more than getting older, it’s getting complacent.

This post is part of Blogger, May I? — and its 30 days of prompts.

Every 30-something needs… a reminder on her birthday.

- Mel

happy birthday lollipop where did you come from

Of how far you’ve come.

Of where you’re going.

Of all the bullshit you’ve endured already in this life. Nay, this year.

That this, too, will somehow pass. No matter the shattering of hearts and testing of resilience.

That friends are really important.

That family is even more so.

That age is just a number. Like a street address or a phone number on caller ID reminding you of your past.

Of where you were this time last year.

Of how you didn’t know what a difference a year would make.

Of where you are now. Now might not be so good… but it will be better. It’s always better.

And that next year you’ll be another year older and there will be more imbalances with your hormones, so just. stop. stressing.

March 30: a lesson in emotional eating

- Mel

No sweets. NO SWEETS FOR 30 DAYS. I knew this would be a difficult month, but really didn’t anticipate HOW HARD keeping desserts away from my pie hole would be. It was a long, cold month.

Within the first week of giving up sweets, I had a four-day headache.

Then I had a tooth pulled and continuously craved ice cream during the healing process.

St. Patrick’s Day and my anniversary happened… this was my first “cheat” day: an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet, which, naturally, included a dessert table, a bananas foster table AND a make-your-own ice cream table. The ice cream felt so wonderful on my gums that I almost tossed the entire month-long challenge in the garbage right then-and-there.

I was determined to finish strong, however; intsead using my “free” day at the end of the month (originally planned for Easter) to make up for the one-day lapse.

Each day for the last week of the month, the breakroom at my part-time job was filled with cookies and doughnuts and candy.

Then I had a death in the family and was surrounded by sugary gifts from friends and neighbors. Sigh.

Basically, after giving up sweets for 16 days straight, on the 17th day I fell to my sugar cravings because of a flaw in the emotional eating segment of my psyche. I pressed restart for another few days, then succumbed again. I didn’t just stumble, I GONE TRIPPED AND BROKE MY WILLPOWER. All of it.

And then on the 31st day, at the sight of my first period in several months, I celebrated my failure with a crushed Samoas cookie vanilla sundae. Because that’s what 30-something females do: we eat away our PMS and feelings.

What you missed:
Read more about my 30-day challenges for 2013.
January: no alcohol!
February: it’s wake-up time!