Today I ponder my existence and purpose. Why was I put here? Will I have a full time job soon? Will that full time job be that of an instructor? Is applying for editing and copy editing jobs a waste of time since my resume only has education experience? Should I grade papers or apply for jobs?
The last question I know the answer to. I’ll be writing cover letters and applying for jobs all day, but first a two hour gym session.
If I survive the last two weeks of this semester, it is only because I sacrificed sleep.
I have a personal Facebook account. The more I friend people who I’m not super close with, I find myself posting less and less about things that are going on in my life.
Recently, I posted a status up about how I was trying to decide if I should apply for Fall 2012 PhD programs. Of course, most of my friends were super supportive and awesome, then Thesis Chair posted.
First, I should explain that I was contacted by TC through a Facebook message about a page that might pique my interest. I was shocked by the contact. Facebook is weird that way. It’s like you want people to want to be friends with you. In my never-ending need to be liked, I was so excited especially after the whole, “You’re not thinking of a PhD are you?” incident. Why would someone as smart and awesome as TC want to contact me through something as social as Facebook?
O.
M.
G.
I immediately texted Missy (you might remember her from our adventures at AWP).
Me: OMG (yes I use texting language so effing sue me) TC messaged me on Facebook.
Missy: Me too!
We were both excited because of TC’s elusive and mysterious social behavior. I wasn’t as excited because I now knew I was no longer special, but whatever, that is besides the point. I sat, staring at the computer screen. Should I send her a friend request? What if she didn’t accept it? Why did I need her to like and respect me so damn much?
I sent the request and was thrilled when she accepted. I imagine this is about how happy high school boys are when they ask that special girl to prom, and she says yes.
So, to recap: I posted about the PhD, friends were supportive, then TC posted.
I wasn’t even the first person to see it.
Missy texted me.
“Just saw what TC posted on your Facebook status, WTF?”
I was driving and wished so badly that I had a smart phone.
“I haven’t even seen it.”
I got to work and wanted to make a mad dash for the office, but I had to go to a meeting so about 45 minutes went by and I was freaking out. My heart was beating. What the heck did she say?
I got the computer.
Her comment used the word, “realistic.”
Enough said.
I texted Missy.
“Why does she hate me?”
FH texted me about it also asking, “What does that even mean?”
I’m still confused.
I tried to respond with something self deprecating, like haha, you didn’t just punch me in the heart . But TC had broken my little heart, yet again.
FH said she can suck it.
That made me feel better.
So, I guess (if I was teaching narrative and my student submitted this story I’d make a comment that said, “where are you going with this) what I’m trying to say is I can no longer enjoy Facebook in the same way I once did. Now, I worry that I with every comment TC sees me post, or status I share, I’m being judged, hated even by someone I admire so much. Or should I say admired? I don’t know.
It could be that maybe TC has my best interest at heart.
Who the hell knows?
The bigger question is why the eff do I care?
So last week was my first week with the dietician and the new eating plan. It isn’t really different from how I was eating. It only encourages way more vegetables and a lot less fat. Very logical.
The one thing that has been an adjustment is the amount of water I’ve been asked to consume. My dietician has asked me to drink 9 cups of water. This is equivalent to about three medium-sized water bottles. It may not seem a lot for all you hydrated people out there, but it is a lot for me. I hate drinking water. I never think to do it, and because I have a peanut-sized bladder I oftentimes chose not to drink it.
So last week I started drinking nine cups of water. It was a challenge the first day, and I’m one day from being done with week two on this plan, and I’m still struggling. I will say that I did notice a difference in my body and its general performance within three days of drinking all this water.
I felt reborn. I was all, O. M.G., FH I’m a walking metaphor. I’m all reborn.
I’m just kidding readers, I don’t actually talk like that. Hahaha.
My week starts on Saturday (which is great because the weekend and being home is always bad for my eating habits). On Monday of week one, I was a productive machine. I had graded an absurd amount of papers, created an awesome activity (more on this later), did some hardcore wedding planning, and busted ass in the gym.
I felt–feel amazing.
When asked if I need to coffee to function (literally to breathe and be alive), I almost always respond with a big caffeinated yes!, but last week my one cup of joe in the morning was more than enough to get me going. In fact, it was more for pleasure that it was anything else.
So aside for being super productive at work and with the wedding plans, I read two books in two weeks, and am almost done with my third.
Who
Am
I
?
As far as the eating has been going, I think I did okay this week. Not as good as week one, but definitely hitting my calorie marks and I added an extra day of working out. Seriously, go me.
You’re probably thinking, oh my goodness One Mean MFA, you’ve been kicking ass and taking names.
Well readers, you’re right. I have been. But that’s not all (for 4 easy payments of $19.99–sorry I couldn’t help myself), I started work on the memoir.
I know.
Ridiculous.
A lot of the world’s problems could be solved if people would just be hydrated.
I hope week three is even more awesome.
Job applications + end of semester craziness = no blog posts.
Working on it.
Don’t miss me too much!
An email I received today:
I don’t know what is wrong with me but I do not feel good this evening. I was
here and was gonna tell you in person what is going on but you were busy with
your other class. If you could just email me back with what we are going over
tonight I would appreciate it. Sorry again.
How I’d like to respond,
Dearest Student,
I’d love to type up a 75 minute lesson. You must have read my mind on how I’d like to spend my few spare minutes this morning.
You are such a gem.
Sincerely,
One Mean MFA
p.s. Really?
Actual response: ::behind a shit eating grin:: Please contact classmates for any notes.
Some days…..
I’ve been trying really hard not vent about my students because I don’t want to let their idiocy get to me. However, I cannot contain these thoughts for much longer and so I present an open letter.
Dearest Students Who-sit-in-the-front-then-don’t-pay-attention-and/or-roll-their-eyes-while-I-give-instruction,
Oh what’s that, you didn’t think I noticed? I notice every movement. I notice how you don’t sit up straight or take notes, how you text during my instruction. I also notice when you roll your eyes when I speak.. That’s right, I can see the whites of your eyes. It is quite unbecoming.
I should mention your not paying attention and your constant questioning of my teaching methods is getting old. I understand that you’ve repeated this class and that your previous teacher taught this content differently, and according to you was much better than me. The thing is, I don’t care. You are in my class, and I’m asking for something different. By the way the withdrawal period hasn’t passed, you can still opt out. But if you decided to stick out with me, how about to avoid taking this class again you humor me? Higher education is simply lessons in jumping through hoops. Get over yourself. Also, you’re in this class again for a reason.
Think about it.
Also, when you question what I’m looking for, or ignore me and then your writing does not contain it, how do you think you’re going to do in this class? Do you actually expect to pass? Suggesting and confronting me by telling me you write all the time, and are a “good” writer is not enough to get the grade. You actually have to be a good writer.
Just in case you weren’t sure, that’s what I effing teach!
So, as I grade your essay that is spiteful and terrible, frankly, I want you to think about the less that stellar grade you’ve earned.
Since you have one more paper to redeem yourself, how about you check you G-D attitude and ego out the door.
I’m teaching this class (partly because the department didn’t have any literature or creative writing sections to give me) because I have the specialization and nearly a decade of education.
Shut your freakin’ trap, open your ears, and for God’s sake stop rolling your eyes.
Thanks.
Sincerely,
One MEAN (and angry) M.F.A.
I decided against the haircut. I have been trying for years to grow my hair long like Kim Kardashian and while I will never have Armenian hair, I do have good hair, and I’m not cutting it.
In an effort to make over my life, I’m starting with my health. My physical health. I already workout a little (not as much as I used to) so adding more days and variety will help with that. The real makeover is in the food.
I recently started working with a dietitian. I’ve tried everything, Weight Watchers, Jillian Michaels, little or no carbs–you name it I’ve tried it. The only thing I haven’t tried are cleanses because there is no way that is healthy. I decided to work with a dietitian because they are specialized, and qualified. They go to school for this and they understand how eating, exercise and the body work. With Weight Watchers, the group leader is someone who was successful with the program, not someone who understands how sugar, and protein and other nutrients fuel the body. The dietician is expensive. While, I absolutely cannot afford this, I am doing it anyway. My mother said “[insert given name here], it’s an investment in your health.”
She’s right.
I should probably note that, I’m not a walking blob. I’m overweight, but I’m not to the point (nor will I let myself) where I can’t where normal sized clothes. I am, however, overweight.
A lot of my anxiety and self confidence issues stem from my weight. I’ve always struggled with it. Since I was about 10 years old, I was the fat kid. I have two sisters who should and could easily be models. They are lean and gorgeous. So gorgeous, fact, that my whole life I was always considered “the good eater” versus my one sister (who is about 21 months younger than me) who was always told how beautiful she is. I have always envied my sisters, their beauty and their smarts. Growing up boys always paid attention to them, while I focused on my grades and extra curricular activities. Even in college, my roommates were the ones who got attention. Of course, this didn’t help, but it was also something I couldn’t control. While, I’m sure my appearance didn’t help, my personality probably didn’t aid in my not getting attention from the opposite sex. Growing up, I was never so obese that I looked scary, I was chunky. In fact, my whole life (even now) my nickname from my family has been a word that derives from chunky. In fact, one of my uncle calls me “chunkina” which is is like girl chunk.
So, you can image how these nicknames, and experiences have scarred me. In college, I was put on a migraine medication and within about 5 months I went from a size 14 to a size 6. That’s about 40 pounds. Of course in college I did more walking because I lived on campus. Still, I always had a voracious appetite and this medication made it go away. Best. Thing. Ever. I still enjoyed food, I just didn’t eat too much of it. My family continued to called me, “chunkina.” Frankly, it was probably warranted because never let go of the fat kid inside me.
Well, when I graduated I didn’t have a good job and didn’t have health insurance so I stopped taking the magic medication. And on packed the pounds.
Now, I’m back to my high school weight and none of my cute size six clothes fit. My anxiety is through the roof, and I hate myself.
So last week, I made an appointment and started a program. The eating plan officially started today so of course I have to wait until next Friday to know if it is working. I’m sure the first week will be good. I’m focused and more motivated than I thought I’d be. I’m sure the expense is forcing me to be focused. I’m like this with the gym. In the morning when I get up and don’t want to go, I think to myself, “get up, you’re paying for a membership.”
As you all know, I haven’t been feeling right. FH and I talked about it and he said something that I think is on point. He said, “if something in your life is making you unhappy, get rid of it.”
Well, the thing that is making me unhappy is my health and appearance. When I feel like I look good in a bathing suit, things just seem sunnier. Maybe I’m vain, I don’t know and I don’t care.
I’m tired of getting dressed in the morning and feeling like if I was thinner I’d be able to dress trendier. I’m also tired of worrying that I’m going to hate all the wedding pictures because I’m cow. I’m also tired of worrying that FH is going to look at me one day and think, “that isn’t the girl I fell in love with.” While, I don’t actually believe he would think something like that, I know that I look at myself and think, “where is the artistic, confident girl that proudly walked [insert undergrad institution here].”
I guess, I’m thinking if I make over my physical self it will be the beginning of loving my interior neurotic self. I don’t know if this will actually work, but I have faith. I know it’s time to get over this weigh issue. I don’t want to start my new life with FH hating the old me–the child in me. I want to start our life together happy with myself.
Honestly, it’s been over 15 years that I’ve been struggling with this problem. Enough is enough. The fat kid must die.
The excess weight has been warned. Not get off bitch.
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