This Could Be The Start Of Something Big

I have always struggled with my weight, and by that I mean it's always been a struggle to keep meat on my bones. Up until I hit the big 4-0, I was at least 10-15 pounds underweight. I was teased about it as a kid. My mom was always worried that CPS was going to take me away from her due to malnutrition--she's always been dramatic. When I was in college, my phys ed teacher had me keep a food diary because I was "very anorexic looking," her words. Whenever I griped about being too thin, overweight people never failed to remind me how "lucky " I was. Oh I can't tell you the number of times they told me, "I used to be your size when I was young. You better be glad you're small because once you start putting weight on, it's hard to stop and harder to take off!" Well I will have you to know...that they were absolutely right. Middle-age spread is HERE with 4 large suitcases asking which bed is hers.

I'm the stick wearing the bitchin' 80's glasses!

I am 5'10', and I now weigh 144lbs. Somewhere along the way, I've gone from a size 6 to a size 10. I'm not skinny anymore; I have a small frame, so I'm slender/curvy...with a gut. Even though I hated being a stick, I was an aspiring model and took pride in the fact that Naomi Campbell and I had the same stats. Naomi never looked bony because years of ballet gave her that awesome physique. Aaaaand now I outweigh her by almost 20lbs. Wowsers. When I put on weight, it goes right to my hips and stomach. At this point, I could easily park in the expectant mother space at the mall with no questions asked, but I'm too vain to be seen out without having sucked it in. (I have to suck so hard now, I see spots.) I've always eaten recklessly in an attempt to bulk up and...I'm Southern. You do the math. I'm a serial snacker too. I never eat A doughnut or A taco. They die together like Thelma and Louise, honey.*

I haven't had a slice of cake in years. I eat WEDGES of cake. A slice of pie doesn't exist in my world; 1/4 of the pie on my plate is how I roll. Sunday night, during the "CSI: Miami" marathon, I ate half of a Sara Lee apple streusel pie in 2 hours by eating 2 slices. I stood at the stove and stared at the remaining pie chanting to myself, "I ate half a pie. I ate half a pie." Sara Lee--or the random hair netted individual in the Sara Lee kitchen--is a bomb ass cook though, so you can't really blame me. If Paula Deen hadn't ripped her draws, I'd probably be wearing a bed sheet now. Her sour cream pound cake was the bombbbbbbbbb, and I can't find it anywhere. All I got is this pic, making my mouth water. Dang it.

Since my parting of the ways with the Retail Skid Mark, I have been doing a lot of "because it's there" eating. It was the aforementioned pie that brought the realization that I need to slow my roll and kept me from ordering my usual 2 soft tacos at Taco Bell. I only ordered one, and my stomach was still growling 5 minutes after the last bite.

When I get out of the shower (don't try to get a visual, freaks), I give myself a good once over. Cellulite on my thighs, stomach, butt, AROUND MY KNEES...If I become officially fat, I can see exactly where my "rolls" will be. When I bend over or sit down, it feels funny having all of that belly fat just above the area where my uterus is. It feels like I'm made of paper and I can feel myself creasing as I'm being folded in half. Time to fix this before it becomes unfixable and I wind up on one of those weight loss shows bursting into tears after 2 jumping jacks. I'm not being mean; I've seen it, and I don't want it to happen to me. It's sad when it happens to anyone. Planet Fitness or Curves, I'll see you in January. I'm certainly not going to start an exercise regimen now. It's 3 days before Thanksgiving, just over a month before Christmas, and I done told y'all one time I'm Southern.

The hips and ass formerly known as a size 6...

        

 *Thelma and Louise died at the end of..."Thelma and Louise." Not really sure how this could be a spoiler when you've had 23 years to see it, but ok.

Just Random Nuptual Awesomeness

People keep having awesome nontraditional weddings, both in attire and ceremony, and I just keep getting singler (not a word about how that's not a word)...I want to go nontraditional, but when I finally get married, all of the awesome ideas will have been used. I ain't above copying though. Here's the latest. Beyoncé's baby sis Solange ties the knot in NOLA and she has some stunning pics to let the world know that she's no longer one of "da single ladies." *SIGH*

...Still Here...Lordt

Hey, y'all! I'm still here, and STILL enjoying my Retail Septic Tank-free life. I wish I could say that I'm writing this post in a Brooklyn brownstone, but alas, I'm still down South. I've put off my move until April. Leading up to my supposed departure for the Big Apple--when I was still planning to go this month--I would get this sick/anxious/excited feeling. I was having trouble focusing on apartment and job searching....I was something of a wreck. I want it BAD, but I wasn't ready. I am 42. This is a one shot deal for me because of my age and finances. I can't fcuk it up. The walls are closing in, though, and the family be trippin'. I may not make it to NYC, but I have DEFINITELY got to get the hell away from here. I'd even consider staying in the South, but somewhere like Myrtle or Virginia Beach. I frigging LOVE the beach. The settings on my sound spa alternate between rainy day and ocean. Always. Anywhore, now I'm just waiting for April and bracing myself for the coldest winter ever.

A Boyfriend Would Be Nice...

**For her next trick, the lovely and capable Shellybird will attempt a blog post while weeping and balled up in a fetal position on her couch.**

Hahaha, not really but..really. I squired dear old mom to the grocery store yesterday afternoon, and I ran into my ex boyfriend's mom (a super sweet lady), who happens to be my mommy's high school classmate. While they chattered about septuagenarian life--aches, pains, who from the c/o 1958 has passed away since the last reunion--I flitted around picking up stuff mommy needed. I got back to them and joined the convo. I dared ask how "Ray" my ex was doing. She let me know he was fine, had bought a home, and he's working towards another degree. Awesome! Oh, and his GIRLFRIEND that he met a year or so after I broke up with him is selling her house so they can build a nest together. Um...What the fuque???????

Here's a little background for you: Ray was my first boyfriend. We met as students at the local community college. We were together a collective 17 years; there were breakups in between, during which time he got married and eventually divorced. I had dates here and there, fell in love at the age of 27 with an emotionally abusive 19-year-old and became engaged to him. (That obviously didn't work out because y'all haven't seen me on "Snapped," have you???) After all of that Ray and I got back together, and of course everyone assumed we would get married and live happily ever after. Coming back together like that totally signifies that it was meant to be, right? Well, no...actually, everyone including me was DEAD WRONG. We dated for 6 or 7 more years, and every Christmas, I waited for my engagement ring. My "ring" came in the form of a digital camera, a couple of expensive earring and necklace sets, or cash if he ran out of ideas. He was the only guy I dated that my mommy liked, and occasionally she throws him in my face, and I QUOTE: "Well if you'd hung on to Ray, you'd be married and have those babies you always wanted." LORDT. Yes, he was/is mannerable, a hard worker, he doesn't have babies and an assortment of baby mamas, AND he has no police record--a real prize some might say. However, at the end of the day, I just could not deal with taking the backseat to his mother, his job, or whatever was on the SciFi channel. I wanted to be a wife, not a girlfriend that he called when he "remembered." I didn't want to be taken for granted any longer, so when we had a heart-to-heart and he more or less let me know that he was comfortable in the place we were in our relationship--limbo, as far as I was concerned--I ended it. I was in my late-30's at the time and he was in his early 40's, TOO damn old to be "dating"! Even Joanie and Chachi got married. Come ON.

...Sorry, that was a lot of background. Anyways, here I am, 42 years old, single, and childless, and my ex-boyfriend is probably working toward his second marriage. I don't understand, and I certainly don't think it's fair. I don't begrudge anyone the opportunity to be happy--LEAST of all myself. I still have the "here and there" dates, but the closest I've come to a date OR sex in the past 10 months are the biweekly manicures from my (sexy) Vietnamese nail tech. His hands are so soft, and I don't know what he puts in his hair, but it's absolutely intoxicating. I would be remiss if I didn't share that his body is TIGHT. Oh, WAYMENT...Since my unceremonious release from the Retail Chamber Pot (BOO-YA), I've stopped getting my nails done to save money. I ain't even getting hand sex now.

Now How Hard Was That?

So here's what happened yesterday: For the first time in the 6 1/2 weeks since I got fired, I went back to "the store." (And yes, I've run out of clever/snarky names synonymous with sewage to use in reference to my former place of employ, but if I come up with anything else, I'm on it. Word is bond, son.) Anyways, I took out a loan a year or so ago and unemployment insurance is part of the deal. The insurance form has a portion to be filled out by the previous employer. I dragged my ass for 3 solid weeks before finally taking it in to be filled out. It went smoother than I thought, but I certainly didn't think it would. I managed to stress myself into a lovely little tension headache/migraine/brain-on-fire type ailment that didn't clear itself up until hours after I got home. I still have a slight hangover from it, but I don't feel nearly as bad as I did before, thanks for asking. I ran into a few former co-workers while I was there, which was expected and dreaded. Hell, I went in through a rear entrance to avoid seeing anyone because I'm hardcore like that. I only received a hug from 1, which was perfectly fine with me. He's like a brother and has called me several times with advice and just to check in and make sure I'm okay. One other lady, who isn't really a friend but has always been nice, asked what I planned to do now. I told her about my NYC plans. A few others just said hi, and I responded in kind like nothing ever happened and I was still on the payroll. Overall though, if we didn't swap words while I was there, there's no need to be phony, all poking in my business now for the sake of having something to talk about later. I hate that. Being the Southern Belle that I am though, I made DANG sure I didn't roll up in that piece looking like "the struggle." My hair, nails, wardrobe, and makeup (read: lipstick, which is all I wear) were ON POINT. Homie don't play looking busted in the presence of mine enemies, be it a former employee, ex boyfriend, or whatever. One of the newer managers, a HOTTTTT Hispanic guy, saw me and said hi. I spoke to him as well, and was flooded with regret that THAT potential for flirtatious workplace diversion went down the tubes 6 1/2 weeks ago. Ohhhhh, the way he looks at you with those deep set eyes, WOO....but I digress.

While writing this, my internal alarm went off. I just read over the form, and the woman in personnel wrote that the reason for my termination was "misconduct with write-ups," the same inaccurate bs that almost cost me my unemployment benefits. It was in my file though, so that's all she could write. Bright side? I was spared the awkwardness of seeing the manager who tricked me into believing I WASN'T getting fired and had me hang around after my shift ended TO get fired and I didn't have to see the one who actually did the firing. Enough time hasn't passed for that to have been anything other than ugly. Whether or not the unemployment insurance covers this isn't a concern of mine at this point. It might be LATER, but certainly not now. I'm still riding on the high of freedom from retail, and I really don't want to come down.

Since I survived my first foray into the store post termination I think I am now prepared to bust up in there any old time. My mom needs a pair of those compression hose that she has to wear, so I'll swing by there this week after I get my hair done. My former place of business is one of the few places that sells them at a reasonable price, and I'll definitely do what I have to do for the woman who gave me life, no biggie. I'll just use the rear entrance like a boss.

Tommy Ain't Got No Job...And Neither Do I

We have a lot in common...but I'm prettier.

I's free; I's free!!! That's right--after 15 years, the Retail Gut Bucket cut me loose.  This happened a month ago, actually. Long story short, they called me in the office one morning and told me they were "terminating" me for a job performance issue, even though the job I was performing wasn't mine, was above my pay grade, and I wasn't being compensated for it. I was upset for like, oh, 30 minutes. The reason they gave me and the reason listed on my file that they sent to the employment commission were 2 different things. They tried to say it was because of my attendance. In my state, you don't reap unemployment benefits if you are fired for misconduct, and excessive absences/tardies (attendance) is under the misconduct umbrella, trying to stay dry. The Retail Dumpster doesn't like coming up off of that unemployment money, so while I am dismayed that they tried that, I am certainly not surprised. However, truth (THAT I TOLD because they weren't trying to) won out in the end. That said, my unemployment benefits are rolling in--thank-you Jesus--and I am FINALLY making plans to go to NYC. (I suppose if I were a blogger worth my salt, I could have taken you along as I navigated the highways and byways of "Da System." It was interesting, but I'm over it. Onward and upward, people.)

For clarification, let me say that I am still semi employed at the radio station, a part, part, part, part time gig that I have hung on to because broadcasting was my field of study in college. I eventually reached a point during my time in retail when I was ashamed to even tell people I worked at the Retail Septic Tank. People were more impressed when I told them about my job as a radio announcer and I was in desperate need of the shine. I'm really just window dressing at the station; if I fell off the face of the earth, the music would still play, honey. I've known how non integral my job is for years, but I always showed up and gave it my all. I'm expecting to reap the benefits of this soon...

Anyways, NOW what?  Welllll...I'm going to take a month or maybe 6 week excursion to the Big Apple to get a feel for the city and PRAYERFULLY find a job. I'm hoping to act in TV commercials, do voice acting work, another radio gig, or modeling. No, I haven't given up on that, so we'll see. I feel more optimistic about my future since I got fired, ironically. I had really reached the bottom of the barrel in retail, and let me tell you, it's ugly down there. I think I was depressed, burned out for sure. Word to the wise no matter where you work: When you reach the point where you hit snooze 312 times when your alarm goes off, when you look at your watch and see that you still have 2 hours left in your shift and you're reduced to tears at the thought, IT IS TIME TO GO. Trust and believe, you don't reach that point overnight. Let this post serve as a cautionary tale. I think trust fund babies are a happy (and rich) minority. The majority of us have to work, every day, to keep food on tables, clothes on backs, and roofs over heads. For the love of all things holy, PLEASE find something that makes you happy, even if it doesn't make you rich. You shouldn't dread waking up everyday.

The Post About Cartoons...Finally**

Here it is, 3am Saturday...Here I am, awake. I really don't mind. I'm a night owl anyway, due in large part to the 5 or 6 years on third shift at the Retail Landfill. I like to indulge in cartoons when I'm off, and welp, this is my night off. Actually, every night for the rest of my time on earth is my night off, but THAT'S another post. I didn't stoke up the Samsung Galaxy to talk about my job (or lack thereof) at the Retail Bunghole. What I really want to talk about is cartoons. (See? Priorities.) I am an early 70's baby, so I grew up on SATURDAY MORNING cartoons. I don't think the networks even do that anymore. I just looked at the schedule. CBS is on some animé kick, and ABC and NBC have weekend versions of their daily morning news shows, a couple of toons or animal programs, and then I saw sports. I may have been missing something; you can check for yourself. It got a little too dismal for me, having experienced awesome Saturday morning entertainment like this:

http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/1976%E2%80%9377_United_States_network_television_schedule_(Saturday_morning)

The cartoons were followed by the ABC Weekend Special,  American Bandstand, and Soooooooooooul Train. (Oh, what, like you ever just call it "Soul" Train. You have to do it with FEELING.) I'm trying to remember when Saturday morning cartoons ceased to be a "thing." Of course, most of us reached that point in our teen years when we were too "grown" to wile away 6 hours or so watching tv when there was hanging out and courting to be done. (There was always time for "Saved By Tne Bell" though; don't even get that twisted.) There was still a Saturday morning cartoon-topia for the young bucks behind us, but over the years, it eventually disappeared. I blame video games, cable/satellite, the internet, and President Obama. LOL! Just kidding on the Obama part. I totally respect our POTUS. That was just a little half-assed commentary on how people blame him for EVERYTHING, but I digress.

In an effort to reclaim a bit of the glitter of my childhood--because it's real in these mean streets of the REAL world--I watch whatever cartoon classics are available on Boomerang nowadays. They take me back to a simpler time and have a calming effect, which seems crazy because classic cartoons are super violent: Anvils crushing coyote skulls, cats being blown up by a sticks of dynamite...but hey, they were JUST FINE 10 seconds later. Nothing wrong there...Sadly, I can count on one hand the cartoons they air that I consider classics: Looney Toons, Tom And Jerry, Scooby Doo Where Are You?, The Smurfs, and The Flintstones. Slim pickins, yes, and I am mainly there for Tom and Jerry and The Looney Toons, two of my favorites. Boomerang needs to up their classic cartoon game; hell they're the ONLY network in the game. See (what had happened was), Boomerang started out as a segment on the Cartoon network. Then it was made into a separate entity. Now Boomerang needs an offshoot. They could call it "Boomerang For Crotchety Middle-Age Gen X-ers Who Don't Consider 'Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends' Classic". What???? It has a certain...something.

Oh, I miss you guys...

**I originally attempted to right a lamentation/rant about the dearth of classic cartoons over a year ago, but apparently, my mind wasn't ready. This is what I came up with instead, and if I must say so myself, it kinda cute.
http://shellybirdsnest.blogspot.com/2013/08/the-post-that-wasnt-supposed-to-be.html