Full Disclosure Friday

I'm an office food stealer. Specifically, condiments. I don't steal anything (ever!) that there is only one of, or that is clearly someone's. Condiments, however? I'm like a ninja. Butter, cream cheese, salad dressing, mayo, mustard, vinegar...you name it, I steal it. To be fair, I occasionally bring in a big container of something assuming there are others like me that will pilfer out of it. And also, I do bring in food to feed the folks at work sometimes to offset my guilt.

I don't even think it's that big of a deal, but if you could see me doing it you would think I was robbing someone of hundreds of dollars. Covertly looking around, shielding the stolen goods with my body, quickly dispensing and then putting them right back in the EXACT spot I found them in. Sometimes I even hum a tune to appear more casual. There is some excitement to my thievery...you see, the office is small. Maybe 10 people in here on any given day. So when anyone walks into the kitchen, I have a 1 in 10 chance of getting caught using THEIR condiment. It's a real nail biter!

Cue karma, that bitch. Today I was going to put my own balsamic vinegar on my salad, but spotted a full bottle of some creamy, cheesy, delicious looking dressing in the fridge. Once I saw it, I knew it would be mine. I quickly pulled it out, opened the bottle and was waiting for it to pour out, feeling overly exposed and willing it to hurry up. Sure enough, I heard footsteps behind me! I panicked and made the fatal  dumb mistake of squeezing the bottle a tiny bit to make it hurry, and then it happened. I overdressed my salad, disgustingly so. Blech. What a gross mess. I totally deserved it.

Full Disclosure Friday

Every morning after my shower, I go though my post shower routine (lotion on face, lotion on body, clean ears, brush teeth, etc). Then I take 10 minutes or so to sit and cool down wearing nothing on but a towel on my head.

During that time, I have a bottle of water and check my work emails to see what’s on tap for the day.

A few weeks ago, I got a new Macbook. This means I now have a webcam built in to my laptop, which I did not before. Also, Skype opens automatically when I open my computer.

My BIGGEST fear is that I’m going to accidentally get/accept a Skype from someone at work (we use it for IM purposes) and somehow, someway…one of my coworkers will see me naked. Can you even imagine?

Full Disclosure Friday (Not Just a Pretty Face)

When I started Full Disclosure Fridays, I intended them to be a very honest glimpse into my life and emotions. Granted, I’m pretty much an open book anyway (um hello, yesterday I told you I peed my pants while jump roping), but you know what I mean. So far most of my disclosures have been embarrassing stories, but today I’m taking a different path.

I told you guys the other day that I found my old diaries. A lot of them had pages ripped out (I would kill to know what they said) and some of the stuff was mindless, funny even. However, I came across an event that has truly shaped my life and how I’ve viewed myself, and it hurts so much to look back on it. I’d like to share it with you.

If you know me in real life, you’d know that the compliment that makes me want to kill puppies and crash cars into trees is someone telling me I have a pretty face. Let’s pause for a moment for me to assure you I would NEVER kill a puppy. Unless I smothered it with kisses. But I digress…what on Earth is the problem with someone giving my face a compliment? The problem is the inherent ‘but the rest of you…not so much’. I have a very specific reason for feeling this way, and when I found it in my diary I cried to see how shattered and naive 13-year-old me was.

Here’s the story: I had been talking to a boy on the phone, a boy my friend knew from her school. I had never seen the boy, but ohhhh was I in love! We talked on the phone for hours every day, probably about nonsense but enough to fill my little heart with hope. I said things like “he’s so funny and sweet” and “he thinks people should be in love before they go all the way just like me!” and “my stepfather is going to kill me when he sees the phone bill”. Anyway, I went to my friend’s school dance to meet him for the first time. The date was in February 1990. I had a stomach full of butterflies and tight acid washed jeans on. I was still self-confident enough to only be concerned with how I cute I would think HE was. It honestly never occurred to me that he wouldn’t think I was awesome. (Oh, to be a confident young man eater again.)

Rather than try and describe it, let me take the liberty of writing exactly what I wrote. Please don’t laugh…this is my heart you’re hearing from!

I hate Mike C.! He is such an asshole!! Okay, let me back up. I met him Saturday nite and I thought he was okay but not gorgeous! Plus, he was drunk! Nice life, huh? He ignored me all night. Then tonight Steph called him on 3-way. (He didn’t know I was on). He said that I was a fat shit-but I had a pretty face-ASSHOLE! God, I hate him! I cried all the way to CCD and while I was there. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day-how depressing! I wish I was going out with some awesome guy!

But folks, the sign-off is the saddest part, and probably the first record of my weight loss struggles (mind you, I was probably a juniors size 9 or 11 at the time).

Well, 13-year-old me, I’m on it. It’s more than 20 years later, but we’re going to make this happen, you and me together. We’re going to regain our confidence in our body no matter its size or shape.

Oh, and Mike C? Go fuck yourself. I would have dumped you after 3 days anyway.