Lost a Poesy Ring: Day Thirty-Seven

Oh, the thoughts whirling in my head.  I am well-pleased, well-pleased.  The weather is changing from today’s treacherous -9, to tomorrow, they expect it to be almost 40.  Warm enough to melt away the few questionable patches on the road and warm enough to begin to think again of spring, of summer, of the future.

The boss was out more than in again, and as I have been empowered in so many ways, and am not chained to the copier to print out nearly anything any more, I felt like I accomplished quite a bit.  I felt like I was interested in actually crossing things off the to-do list rather than worrying about its completeness before beginning.  Getting to listen to music as I worked helped me to destress and keep focused.  I actually walked out of there feeling better than I had in an age…hopeful, that if I could work at this pace, with having these weights lifted off of me, I could find an exit strategy.  That maybe this was my exit strategy unfolding in front of me.   I didn’t worry that the new boss didn’t come back when she said she would.  I didn’t worry that old boss might be waiting for her.  Those things were out of my control and my workday was done.

Now, it’s time to be back on the low-carb ball.    This is more and more critical, in the light of the reading, in the light of the fact that I am not so crunched in to the fetal position (at least today) and I’m not so overwhelmed (at least today) and in the fact that I look on OKC and find guys that I could like and everything’s matchy matchy and wouldn’t we like one another, isn’t he cute, I could maybe tolerate this guys face, and then the question, can overweight people be attractive and they answer no and I go, okay, well, mark that one off the list.  They can’t even try to be, apparently, for this guy.  Fuck me, of course, I can’t just choose you because you won’t choose me and I’m not going to stand on the firing line when all I want is a toe in the water. And it’s not just that I think I need to accommodate that one particular guy’s tragic inability to see beauty in all its variant forms, but because I can’t see it, either.  Apparently not when it comes to me.  I have an evil, hard, unfair double standard.   Aside from the whole body security/probably help the vertigo/I want to fucking do it to strike it from the list/because I want to feel pretty when I go to Italy.

Because late October of this very year, I am going to Italy.  It’s pretty official now.  I keep thinking that someone would stop me and say, hey, this is kind of weird or dangerous or not acceptable or not allowed.  And then, I wonder why I need someone to talk me down from all my best darings.  And it doesn’t matter at this point if they do, because there are parts of me that are completely fearless when it comes to this.  When it comes to travel, and I need right now to identify those parts and places and be there for a while.