When I lived at home with my parents, I used to have my mom wrap all my gifts because she was SO particular. She liked them to be wrapped a certain way, and they had to look pretty. I never really understood because hey - they're just going to get torn open anyway, right?! Well the other day I couldn't find scissors to wrap a few of Keith's gifts so I ended up just ripping the paper from the roll. A day or two later he wrapped his gifts to me and sat them under our little one foot tall fiber optic tree and I immediately sulked.
He put so much time and effort into wrapping my gifts and here mine looked like complete crap in comparison. No idea why that bothered me, but it did! I felt like some kind of Christmas failure. He's already dubbed me Miss Grinch - and seeing our wrapping jobs next to each other just made it all worse.
I have one gift of his left to wrap, and I've decided that I'm going to put some effort into wrapping it. We haven't got any ribbon or bows - but I am still going to at least make it look better than the shoddy job I did on the others.
We share so many interests - but holiday cheer is not one of them. I really have tried, but no dice. People decking their houses out with lights is somewhat a new 'thing' here in England, but in the States nearly everyone does it. I kind of expect that sort of thing out of Americans. America is the land of excess, the country of waste. Who cares about how much electricity we waste on all those decorations - looks good don't it?! Here we separate all our trash in order to put things in our recycle bin which is about 3x the size of our trash bin. The inspection for cars is far more in depth here than in America ... but now England is splurging and tossing aside their green way of things in favor of having twinkling lights all over their cottages, bungalows, and flats. It makes me feel bad, in a way. I really don't know how to explain it.
Keith and I haven't really made any friends here. Nearly everyone he works with is well older than we are - and if they aren't then they have at least two kids which immediately puts a bit of a damper on things. We have, however, met up with our Second Life friend Treebee - and she has definitely stepped up to the unknown challenge of taking the place of my best friend.
Okay so she isn't really my BEST friend because how could anyone ever fill the gap of my REAL best friend, Stefanie? They couldn't. Stef and I have known each other since we were 15 (Holy crap 12 years already?!) and we have been through so much together. We're sisters, really. Not the bickering type sisters, but the kind that finishes each others' sentences. Though Tree is well older than I am (her daughter is 15) she has this amazing aura about her. She and I are eerily alike in amazingly so many ways that it almost puts me off. Things that I like (that Stef doesn't) and I think - no one could ever like THAT - Tree likes it! She just puts off this energy that makes you want to just hug her. She's so raw and honest, yet carefree and cautious. Its really hard for me to describe.
Keith and I have invited Tree, her man, and her daughter over for Christmas dinner. Last Christmas Keith was still living in the dorms on the military base, and his suite mate was on leave so it was just us. It was charming, really - but it was quite sterile. Even though I didn't have a great holiday family I still missed the anxiety of getting things together for them.
Its weird, really. I hate cleaning house - but I love cleaning it when I know that Tree and her lot are coming over. I'm not cleaning the house for me, I'm doing it for them. Yes, I know they wouldn't care if my house looked like complete shite - but it feels like I'm reaching some sort of goal when I do it.
I've only just noticed that I'm jumping around a lot in what I'm writing, but I'm just going with whatever comes to mind. Sorry if it seems frantic :(
I haven't started working out yet. Keith wanted to go one day last week, but I had my monthly and really wasn't feeling up to it (who could blame me?!) I'm still not sure if or when I will feel compelled enough to actually get my arse in gear and work out. A big part is that since we've been together I feel so physically dwarfed by his good looks. He's tall and thin with a great personality. He's a people pleaser. He's just a good guy. I'm short and fat with a weird personality that couldn't be bothered with what anyone else thinks .. unless I'm with him. I think my deviant self is really an embarrassment to him or something. I think that somehow, somewhere inside him that he HAS to be embarrassed of how I look. Skinny blond bloke like him should have a skinny bird on his arm. Not some loud mouth mix of Roseanne Barr, Rosie O'Donnel with a heavy helping of Bjork's eccentricity. Not that I don't love every one of those women (who are so outspoken about politics, feminism, and art) but it never feels like it suits him.
Time and time again I've heard lines of if you're happy with yourself then you've got it made. I am happy with myself. I really don't have a problem with my body - but I just feel like I'm not as .. well .. hot as I should be, I guess.
Never has Keith said "You're fat and I find you unattractive." Hell, I've never even caught him oogling a prettier woman which means he's either A) way more slick than I could ever imagine or B) I really put too much stock in how I think I'm looked upon. It isn't as shallow as what I'm wearing because I'm shameless when it comes to clothes. I will wear the tackiest shit because I like it! But its because as the years go by its harder and harder to find clothes. I really don't like wearing what I can only call a 'tent'. I want to wear weird leg warmers and 3 shirts at the same time. Maybe some hot pink holographic tights under a skirt with a pair of worn out yellow Chuck Taylor's. But I can't. I'm too fat.
Then it comes back around. I'm too fat but I know working out won't do a thing for me. Argue all you want, but even in high school when I was what I would NOW call thin (5'4 140lbs) I ran more than a mile every day - yet still I was round. I had a belly pooch. I had dimples on my thighs. When I sat down my stomach still rolled over the top of my jeans! At one point I even did the no carb thing - and I didn't lose a pound. I only got more tired! I've been reading and at this stage in my life I am considered obese. I used to think that it took far more to be obese, but I've hit that mark. Women who weigh more than like 200lbs are considered obese, and that really bothers me. Not the WORD obese, but the health risks that come with it.
There are surgical procedures that can be done, but being on military health care I can't have a one of them. I don't see a Lt. Col. calling me back to surgery to have my gut stapled. It just won't happen. I also don't see how I would get anything like that done here in England where you are 3x as likely to die of easily curable cancers like colon cancer than in the States. And see, I've gone and freaked myself out. BAH!
Working out won't hurt anything. My shins won't let me run anymore due to all the hard running in high school for the tennis and softball teams - but I could ride an exercise bike I'd bet. I'm sure that if I started out with just like ... 15 mins on a bike then walked a mile or so on a treadmill that the results would start to show. I've heard NOTHING but GOOD things about pilates, but I don't think I live anywhere near a gym that offers such a thing.
I'm not sure what to do, but I'll do something. Sometime. Maybe.
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