Falling off the Wagon In Style (Well... in MY Style)

So, approximately 15 days after the meat diet (as I fondly call it) officially ended I broke down and had a carb feeding frenzy.  It was like a shark sensing blood in the water.  I ate like a bulimic on a binge, but I don’t purge.  It probably could have been a lot worse.  Mostly it involved a lot of cookie dough, and then some cookies that I grudgingly cooked to justify the cookie dough in the first place.  And. since I started the downward spiral, I thought I should at least make a proper go of it.  It didn’t hurt that my friend and I had reservations at a very nice restaurant the next day.  So, I gave myself license to just not care about it up through Easter.  Then I’ll have to care again.

The not caring part has actually been pretty hard.  I think I’m on a self-destructive streak, actually.   I’m getting heavier and it terrifies me.  But I can’t get my head straight.  I can’t keep to a diet and I’m less motivated than ever to hit the gym.  I’m worried about jeans getting tighter and about the way my clothes fit.  I’m noticing some changes in my body that have me feeling self-conscious and that makes me depressed.  To paraphrase Fat Bastard, I’m eating because I’m unhappy and I’m unhappy because I’m eating.  As much as I tell myself I’ll feel better if I can impose some sort of control over the situation, I just can’t do it.  Maybe deep down somewhere I don’t think I deserve to feel good about myself?  That I don’t deserve to look good?  I guess that would go along with my middle-of-the-road approach I described in my post on fear.  What a waste.

So, I’ve been doing this caring but not caring thing now for a few days.  Stuff is going in my mouth that I normally wouldn’t eat.  But since I’ve removed some of the stigma around the food I’ve actually been a bit more reasonable in the volumes I’ve consumed.  And I’ve actually gone to the gym or worked out every day that I’ve been eating more.  Its not nearly enough to cover the calories I’m taking in, but its something.  Somehow its easier to go to the gym now.  Strange.  

There have been two highlights of my freedom week so far.  The first is my lunch at Launceston Place, which is an amazing restaurant in the Kensington area.  I had super delicious short ribs and veal and my friend had consomme and beef.  Here are pictures of the short ribs and the beef.  We also ate lovely fresh baked bread, sweets, and booze.  It was lovely.  

Braised Short Ribs

Steak

The second highlight was my homemade bread and cheese.  Yes, I made my own cheese.  I’ve been obsessed with making cheese for a few weeks now and I’ve been looking into classes but haven’t found much.  Crazy, I know.  Who wouldn’t want to take cheese making classes?  Anyways, its super simple to make a soft cheese--mine tasted like a mild goat cheese or a more tangy cream cheese.  Here’s what you do:

1) Heat 1 litre of whole milk (optional add 100-200ml of cream) slowly to 80 degrees C, stirring constantly to prevent burning/film on top of the milk
2)  When milk reaches 80 degrees C, take it off the heat.  Pour in approx 350 ml of cultured buttermilk and 2 tsp of lemon juice.  
3)  Briefly stir and then let sit for 10 minutes undisturbed.
4)  Use a sieve to separate the curds and the whey.  Try to get most of the moisture out but letting the curds sit in the sieve over a pot for 30 minutes or so.
5)  Add 1 tsp of salt and any other desired spices, pack cheese into a jar, and refrigerate overnight.

To go with my cheese I also made bread using Mark Bittman’s no-knead bread recipe I got off the New York Times.  Here’s photos of my feast:

My pride and joy -- homemade bread and cheese

I do realise that eventually I have to sort myself out.  Right now the plan is that after Easter and some travel I have coming up I’m going to go vegetarian.  I’ll be posting on my new diet experiment in early May.

Fear

Fear is holding me back.  I hate it, but I can’t seem to move past it.  When it doesn’t put me into ostrich mode (i.e., head in the sand), or deer-in-headlights mode (i.e., paralysis), it seems that I spend my time trying to circumvent it, being miserable, and then daydreaming to escape it. 

I think I’m afraid of both success and failure.  I just want to toe the middle.  Look at my current work situation.  I’m working a contract job that’s mostly unrewarding and not at all geared to what I want to do long-term.  I fear being unemployed when my contact ends, so I apply to a jobs in a half-assed manner.  I’ve given up on the stretch jobs, the ones that are what I really want to do but that I have zero chance of getting.  I apply to the jobs that are in adjacent fields, hoping that I have enough transferrable skills.  But they’re not what I really want to do.  And they may never lead to what I really want to do.

And then I think about what I’d want to do if I was fearless.  I want to have my own shop.  I want to sell cheese and cured meats, wines, specialty foods.  I want a store that has tastings and cooking classes and is part of the community.  If my store becomes successful, I’d want to branch out to have a farm where I can make my own cheese, bake my own bread.  And I’d have a small hotel where people can come to learn about food production and cooking.

So, then I think I should try to get experience in the grocery industry.  I read up on the management positions that would give me the income I’m accustomed to.  I don’t have the required experience.  That leaves me with entry level—around £20,000 a year.  And then fear sets in.  I know I would learn a lot, and I would put myself on a track to having my own store someday (or at least being in a management position at a retailer).  It’s a big risk.  It’s a lot of lost income.  And, given my track record, would I ever follow through?  If I got that job and took the salary hit, would I ever make it worth it and start my own shop someday?  I think about inertia, I think about my fear of success, and I think I’m doomed.

BFFs

One of my (many) faults is that I can be harsh and unforgiving.   I am at my worst when it comes to my friends.  I have certain expectations about friendship.  I think I have many of these expectations because I moved around a lot growing up.  Having these expectations about who friends are and what friends do helped me to make friends and to cope with leaving friends whenever I moved away.  

My criteria for friendship are pretty stringent.  Above and beyond a general rapport I look for friends who are smart, funny, genuine, loyal, and reliable.  Having these strict criteria meant that I only invested in a handful of relationships, which made it easier to say goodbye to a lot of people whenever I moved and also motivated me to maintain relationships with a select few that had the greatest likelihood of standing the test of time and distance. 

So, for as long as I can remember I’ve had small group of close friends and then I’ve maintained a wider group of “acquaintances.”  I really work hard at being friends with my close friends--I try to see them (or at least talk or email with them) on a regular basis, I like to give them small gifts to show my appreciation for their friendship, I’m loyal, I tell them that they’re awesome (they are), I try to support and encourage them as best I know how, and I try not to let them down.  

And here is where the unforgiving thing comes in.  I don’t expect my friends to go about maintaining our relationship in the exact same why that I do, but I do expect it to be a two-sided relationship.  It’s like cost-benefit analysis--if I’m paying all the costs (time, effort, emotion) and I’m not getting anything back (mostly I define returns as facetime—I just want to see/talk to you!), then why the hell am I wasting my time?  I’m pretty good at cutting friends—you have to be when you move every 3-4 years.  And that’s what I do when I feel like my overtures of friendship are not reciprocated:  I cut.

Now, I realise that this is very harsh.  I can cut for a lot of reasons that people might not understand.  If someone is flaky and cancels on me a lot when we make plans, they’re contenders for being cut.  If I feel like I’m always the one to ask a friend to do something (and he/she never asks me to do something), then I might think of cutting them.  One of my greatest pet peeves is friends who ditch me for a new girl/boyfriend.  If they don’t want to make an effort to maintain a friendship when they have a significant other, they shouldn’t expect me to make an effort to be friends when you’re single again.  For me that’s a sign that they don’t value my friendship.  I’m not being draconian here—I understand that people want to spend time with their new loves, but I don’t think that it has to be at the expense of other relationships.  If someone can’t be bothered to make time for me, then they clearly don’t think I’m important.  If that they way they want it, fine.  Then they’re not important to me either.  It’s self-preservation.

Now, I know there are faults with this approach.  For example, people can be going through stuff and I fail to notice it because I’m too busy being angry and resentful that they’re not reciprocating.  I also can’t expect people to treat friendship the same way I do.  Obviously there are many things that define friendship and many ways to make, keep, and lose friends.  People shouldn’t be expected to know or agree with my arbitrary set of rules. 

I’m working on trying to be more understanding.  And I need to communicate my expectations and my feelings so the other person is aware when there might be a problem.   I think that’s going to be my new rule.  From now on, I’ll work on not closing the door completely.  Maybe you’ll move down to acquaintance status, but I need to leave the door open for you to become a friend again.  But if it happens again, all bets are off.  Like I said, I’m not that forgiving.

A Day in the Life

I can’t remember the last time I was in this good a mood.  I woke up completely rested before my alarm went off, I put on my music, and I’ve been irrepressibly cheerful ever since.  Maybe its because today is the third sunny, warm day in a row?  Maybe its because its Friday?  Maybe its because my hair cooperated and I get to wear my new top?  Maybe its because I just had delicious Nando’s for lunch?  Maybe its because this weekend looks to be warm and sunny as well, and there are few places more awesome than London when the weather is nice?  I don’t know and I don’t really care.  I’m in a great mood and I’m staying that way.

There are side effects to this mood.  I basically want to get up and dance around the office, I keep breaking out into song.  And I’m being silly.  Well, that’s not entirely accurate.  I guess its better to say that I’m having a hard time controlling my impulses and keeping my interior monologue to myself.  So, all my random thoughts are spewing out of my mouth.  If people didn’t think I was crazy before, they’re thinking it now.  Some examples:

This morning I wondered how they make coffee decaffeinated.  Of course, Wikipedia has all the answers.  In case you’re as curious as I was, typically solvents are applied to unroasted (green) coffee beans until most of the caffeine has been removed whilst leaving the other essential chemicals in coffee intact.  

Then I contemplated the life and writings of the Marquis de Sade.  Naturally.

Today at lunch I asked my flatmate whether a woman with a nubbin (extra nipple) lactates through it or if its purely cosmetic.  I have since learned that supernumerary nipples are diagnosed at a rate of 1 in 18 males and 1 in 50 females.  They can occur anywhere on your body, even on your feet!  And yes, if sufficiently developed and located on a milk line, nubbins can be milk-bearing. In some cases they can have fat and glandular tissue and look like mini-breasts!

I then tried to create new emoticons.  What should this mean:  :-x ? Pirate emoticon?  How about this:  >_< ?  “Doh!”?  Or is it a pucker face?  This is too fun.

It’s only 14:10.  This does not bode well for the rest of the day.  

Update:  Yeah, we just played "6 degrees of Kevin Bacon" for over an hour. 

Staying Home

A few years ago something strange happened to me: I’d see a pregnant woman and I’d want to be her.  I’m not particularly maternal--I think I might actually be scared of babies.  And while I like little kids, I only want to be around them for about 20 minutes before it starts to get old.  So, this new feeling came as a shock.  

The more I thought about it, the more I realised that this was about my desire for my own family.  When I picture a family I picture not just a two adults and maybe some pets, but also children.  I think that, for me, no relationship will seem complete without the possibility of children.  

This still doesn’t help me resolve my lack of maternal feeling.  While the idea of being pregnant is strangely desirable, the idea of having a baby at the end of it, who I will have to look after for the rest of my life, is not particularly appealing.  Maybe I just like the idea of eating for two?  Jokes aside, I find the idea of raising kids daunting.  I cannot be a single mother.  There is no turkey baster or foreign adoption in my future.  I don’t want to raise a child alone.  I’m not into babies for babies sake.

So, I’m waiting for a man who makes me want to have babies.  For me to want to get fat, fart uncontrollably, need to pee all the time, and push something the size of a football through my uterus he’ll need to be one charming mother fucker.  Plus, there needs to be a balancing influence.  I’m lazy.  I can be impatient.  I’m overly demanding.  Left to my own devices I’d mess that kid up.  

Last week two of my friends had babies.  Both of them were working before and at this point both are planning to go back to work after their maternity leave ends.  This is probably very un-feminist of me, but I want to be a stay-at-home mom.  

I did some research a while back on women in the workplace, and I found a piece that said that people consider stay-at-home moms to be “simple”.  Basically they’re perceived as stupid, barefoot-in-the-kitchen types.  But my mom was a stay-at-home mom.  It was not by choice--both my brother and I were born on overseas assignments in countries where my mom did not have a work permit.  But even after we returned to the States my mom continued to stay home with us.  Not that she was really home.  She developed interests in art and cooking and took courses; she volunteered at the local museum and played a lot of tennis.  She also got very involved in our educations and headed the PTO one year.  She was busy, her brain was engaged, she was definitely not “simple.”  And she was also there for us to help us with our homework, to pick us up from school, shuttle us to our extracurriculars, have family dinner, and talk with us about what was happening in our lives.  

I can’t imagine a better upbringing, and I cannot imagine not providing the same level of care to my own children.  And I know that as they get older and are in school longer I can do more things, like get a part-time job or work from home.  Being productive and having some finanical independence is still important to me.  But I’m not going to be a climb the latter at all costs career woman.  At least not by choice.  I need to meet a charming man.

SATC

When did 90% of the posts on this blog become about relationships (or lack thereof)?  I swear, I might was well rename myself Carrie Bradshaw.  Speaking of Sex and the City, I had a conversation yesterday about the “He’s just not that into you” episode.  If you’re not familiar with the episode, you might have been introduced to the concept by the epynomous movie released last year starring half of Hollywood.  Anyways, the idea is that women shouldn’t read into a guy’s actions to determine his level of interest--if its not painfully obvious that he’s interested, then he’s just not that into you.

The way this came up in my conversation was that my friend and I were discussing why women hold out for men who aren’t relationship-minded, at least not with them.  I had been bitching about how every guy I meet either wants to be “just friends” (ouch!) or “friends with benefits.”  At this point, I’m not looking for either of these situations, and I’m getting frustrated.  My friend was lamenting a past relationship where the guy couldn’t decide if he wanted to be in a romantic relationship or just friends and it was giving her whiplash.  

We concluded that all these cases were examples of “he’s just not that into you.”  We know this.  Yet we hold on.  Almost every woman I know who is single or in an unhappy relationship has, in the back of her head, that guy.  He’s the one who would be perfect for us if he wasn’t so stupid that he can’t see it.  He’s just not that into us.  But a little piece of us is holding out, waiting for him to come to his senses.  

And we keep holding on, despite our reason and to the detriment of our sanity and happiness.  Why do we do it?  I guess hope springs eternal.  And the romantic comedies and novels that we read give us reasons to hope.  They give us all sorts of scenarios where girl meets boy, boy is not into girl, *something happens*, boy pursues girl, happily ever after.  Often the “something” that happens is completely with the girl’s control, which makes us think that we can will a relationship with our impossible guy into being.  If only I did x, he would fall in love with me. Or, the guy goes through a major transformation (often he grows up).

I’m about to name some horrible movie examples (in no particular order)--please don’t judge me too harshly for having seen these.  

-Sabrina:  Audrey Hepburn or Julia Ormond goes to France, gets a makeover, attracts two wealthy brothers
-She’s All That:  Homely girl with hidden passion and intelligence is secretly a stunner capable of winning over the Homecoming King
-Made of Honor:  Playboy with lovely female best friend doesn’t realize her attractiveness until she gets engaged--a lesson in wanting what we can’t have
-Pretty Woman:  Hooker with a heart of gold finally nabs millionaire when he gets over his relationship and daddy issues
-Life as We Know It:  Actual child forces overgrown man-child into adulthood and commitment to Katherine Heigl
-Miss Congeniality:  Butch FBI agent becomes a beauty queen, winning over Benjamin Bratt
-Some Kind of Wonderful:  Guy from wrong side of the tracks likes rich girl, tries to get with her but class tensions ensue.  He realizes the trouble ain’t worth it because he really loves his best friend
-Two Weeks Notice:  Boss sees employee as a person, loves her for being clumsy (and for looking like Sandra Bullock)
-Sixteen Candles:  Most popular boy in school ditches barbie girlfriend for homely redhead because he wants something “real”
-He’s Just Not That Into You:  The Mac-guy/Ginnifer Goodwin storyline.  

This brings us full circle.  A whole movie about busting the myth that a woman should hold out hope that one day he’ll love her because it happened to someone’s friend’s cousin’s sister’s daughter actually perpuates said myth through its own storytelling.  Bam!

Sexting

So, I had an interesting experience on Saturday night.  A couple of weeks ago I ran into a guy I’ve sort of known for a while but am not really friends with.  Anyways, we got to talking and I ended up giving him my number.  For the last few weeks we’ve been texting--pretty innocuous stuff, flirty messages, etc.  Anyways, so I was out on Saturday night and he texts me.  I tell him where I am and say he should come over, and he does.  So far so good.  But, then he disappears!  He sends me a text telling me he’ll be back, and then nothing.  The following is a transcript of what transpired.  The italics are my thoughts and commentary.

Twenty minutes later:

Him:  How about you swing by my place?

Unlikely since I don’t know you that well, but I’m curious.  

Me:  Where’s that?
Him:  [Address redacted]  You can stay over night :-)
Me:  Where are you right now?  
Him:  On my way home.  There in 10 mins or so.  

WTF?!?!?!  He was at the club for 10 minutes before he disappeared saying he’d be back.  Clearly he’s not coming back.  Shady!

Me:  You ditched me!

Asshole.

Him:  Relax, btw.  I’m a good guy.

Clearly not if you ditched me and are now booty calling me.  If you have to say you’re a good guy, you’re not.

Him:  What do you mean?
Him:  Again, relax.  Judge by how you feel right now irrespective what happened before:  wanna come by?  If yes then come.  It’s that simple.  

Don’t tell me to relax!  I wasn’t not relaxed, but you’re sure starting to piss me off.  And what kind of line is this?  You have got to be kidding me.

Me:  I’m undecided.  Not sure about chasing you around London
Me:  I’ve gotten into trouble this way before

No, I’m not coming over to your place.  I’m trying to be polite.  I’m giving you an opportunity for redemption.  And I’m lazy.  I own a vibrator.  I have batteries.  Frankly, that would probably be more satisfying than some random hookup.

Him:  How.  Fell in love or did the guy treat you badly?
Me:  Second thing.
Him:  Won’t happen with me.  I’m nice.  But no relationship stuff with me-just out of one :-)

Why is there a smiley face?  Man, this is a great sales pitch.  If I wasn’t convinced before, I sure am now.  Get me a taxi this instant!  *Eye roll*

Him:  Silence...:-)

Damn right, cuz I didn’t write back!  That’s how these things work.  

Me:  :-/
Him:  You got too sober, hm?

That might be the creepiest thing I’ve ever read.  

Me:  I don’t need to be drunk to figure this out.  I’m just lazy.  

And really turned-off.

Him:  Come.  Life is short.

Oh, you want to play it that way?  Fine, I’m going to turn the tables.  

Me:  You come to my place then
Him:  Where do you live?  
Him:  Live by yourself?
Me:  One flatmate.
Him:  Come oooon.  I live by myself.
Him:  Won’t be up much longer...:-)

Perfect, because I’m already on my way home.  And I don’t respond well to ultimatums. See ya.