Category Archives: commentary

weight watchers weekly – week 15 (right?)

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So…I went and weighed. It was bad. I should never skip a week. No matter what. Not having a scale at home, I have no way to make sure things are okay if I don’t go to get weighed. And, had I been weighed last week, I think the reality would’ve hit hard enough that what happened would not have happened.

I gained weight. A surprising amount…although I will add that normally I go to weigh in after eating very little during the day and running 4-5 miles. On top of which (ready for the over-share?) I’m totally PMS-ing, so I’m retaining water. Not that much, but some. And normally, I’m wearing my workout clothes and not regular clothes. Anyway, I’m not going to put how much I gained. I can’t really deal with it. And the woman at WWs told me she was not going to total it because she knew it was just a bad couple of weeks.

The truth is, I think I’m in a bit of a funk. I’m not meaning to make excuses for myself, but you know when one thing isn’t working in your life, then another thing stops working and it just keeps going down. That’s where I’m at. I haven’t been running. I’ve been eating junk. Eating junk has made me feel like crap. When I feel like crap I don’t want to exercise and I want to eat more junk. The problem is that, rather than accept that this is bound to happen from time to time and realizing that I need to just take it one day at a time, I keep promising myself that I’ll do better, that I won’t have another bad week. I have to just focus on one day, otherwise, the second I’ve gone over my points one day, I just stop caring about the entire week.

Yesterday was okay. My sisters are both in town, which makes things a bit hard. Both of their birthdays fall in September, so we’ve been doing lots of eating. I have already used my flex points for the week and I went over a bit today. I have to just be okay with that. And, because last night’s meal was so late, I still felt full this morning (I hate that feeling) and so I didn’t end up going on my run. I know I will fit it in this week, but I’m very frustrated.

I have made such amazing progress and I was so sad, disappointed and angry when I got on the scale. It was not a surprise. I know what I’ve been eating. What I don’t understand is why, when I know what I want, and eating junk makes me feel like crap, I still do it. I’m extremely frustrated. It will probably take me until the marathon (about three weeks) to get back to where I was, as far as my weight is concerned, two weeks ago.

The good news. I paid for another ten weeks. While I am frustrated and really, really struggling against the desire to feed my sorrow with Ben and Jerry’s, I am still in this for the long haul. While I haven’t been perfect, I have written everything down so far this week. And I have asked a friend for help.

At this point, there are five of us at my job who are actively (getting weighed and attending meetings) participating in WWs and two who are lifetime members. On Friday, I told one of these women that I was going to need some help. She just started and is super enthusiastic (I remember being there) and said she would be happy to do anything. We’ve come up with a few things and I am feeling good about having the support.

I’m going out of town next weekend, which is making me a bit nervous, since most of my meals will be eaten out. I did purchase WWs’ “Dining Out Food Guide”, which has been a big help. I am also going to get the complete food guide. The internet is an amazing resource, but it’s not so helpful when you don’t have a computer right in front of you.

This journey has become really hard, but I am determined to make it, even if it takes me three years to get to my goal. And, while I gained a bit of weight, I’m still way better off than I was three months ago, right? Right.

At some point, I will share how much I gained, but right now, it’s just a bit too painful…and really, I am not exaggerating. If it were minor, I would post the amount. For those of you out there who have been so impressed with how well I’ve done and who have told me (in person or via email) that you wish you had my willpower, the truth is, we all have our moments of weakness, those moments when it just seems way to hard. I feel lucky that it took me 13 weeks before I hit it and I am hopeful that a renewed commitment is coming. The truth is, it’s not totally there right now. Oh, the pains of addiction.

Having never tried to do this the right way, I didn’t understand just how hard it was going to be.

the law of the ass factor

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So the title is a bit, well, offensive. I debated using “the law of the jerk factor”, but it just didn’t work for me. Yes, I’m a bad person. But the truth is the truth and this is who I am. Don’t you judge me. Don’t you dare judge me. (Or judge me, but just don’t tell me about it).

Moving on. Last night, Sarah and I were watching Stomp the Yard. For those of you who haven’t seen it, I have one word for you…yum. It is a bunch of fine black men dancing with their shirts off. The romance part of it is classic. Cute boy from the wrong side of the tracks wants girl from the right side of them, but she already has a boyfriend who, incidentally, is both good looking and wealthy, and, as we discover slowly, a jerk.

So, we’re watching the movie, drooling over Columbus Short, and then I say, “You know, the other guy could be seriously hot if it weren’t for the ass factor.” And that is when a name was given to a phenomenon with which we are all familiar. Let me illustrate.

When you first see the guy in the movie, he’s easy on the eyes, but he’s a total pig throughout the entire movie. And so, by the end, you really come to loathe him…and think he’s really not good looking. The reverse ass factor is also true. You can have some perfectly average person become completely irresistible. I like to call this the reverse ass factor transformation.

Personality makes such a difference (at least to someone who isn’t completely and totally carnal) when it comes to looks. A guy once asked me what my type was…and I really could not answer the question. I just don’t have one. I have dated tall, short, skinny, fat, hairy, balding, blond, brunette, blue eyed, brown eyed. I don’t have any kind of standard. I never have. Sure, I can appreciate a “hot guy”, but that’s about where it ends if there isn’t something of substance. This is how I’ve always been.

Maybe guys and girls are different this way, but I know lots of girls who feel the same way I do. It’s amazing how a guy who really isn’t that cute (sorry to use that word in conjunction with guy, but if that bugs you, you really should get over it) can become seriously attractive because his personality is amazing. There’s seriously a transformation of perception. It’s not that you can suddenly overlook his average appearance, it’s that it really is no longer average.

By the same token, and this is where the ass factor comes in, you can be attracted to a guy initially and talk about how hot he is and then, suddenly, you just don’t understand what you, or anyone else, ever saw in him. He’s just not that cute.

One of the reasons I love the movie(s) Pride and Prejudice (both versions…sad, but true) is the reverse ass factor transformation. It’s fascinating how, at the beginning of the movie, Mr. Darcy just isn’t the same Mr. Darcy as he is when Elizabeth finally accepts his proposal. And he hasn’t changed, physically, in the least. But I would submit to you that the betrothed Mr. Darcy is one seriously fine specimen. And there’s also the regular ass factor transformation…poor Mr. Wickham.

I have been very attracted to some very average guys, I have slowly become less and less attracted to some very good looking ones, and I once became super attracted to the hottest guy I have ever dated because he was also so nice and funny, (and had these great tattoos on the back of his amazing calves…he had a few rebellious years). It’s really too bad that I went a little crazy because we would have made beautiful babies…another post for another day.

I’m sure this is not new information. I’m sure most of you realize that this is the case. I’m not trying to say that hot guys are jerks who thereby become less hot, nor am I trying to be an advocate for the average guy and state that they are all hotter than you can imagine. Some hot guys have absolutely incredible personalities and some average guys are complete douche bags. I’m just telling you that you must remember the ass factor…and never discuss this with someone who has become, in your opinion, the beneficiary of a reverse ass factor transformation. Having had my own existential experience with this, it doesn’t matter how complimentary you are trying to be when you say to someone, “I really didn’t think you were that pretty when we first met, but now that I know you, I think you are beautiful”, it’s just a bad idea. No matter what. At least in my world.

My point…for those of you who are single (including me), when some guy you are not physically attracted to asks you out, or when some girl, who is perhaps a bit homely, starts to show interest, until you get to know that person, don’t assume that you will never be attracted to him/her, because you never know until you try. And, as per how others perceive you, remember only good things can come from being a nice person. Even if you are hot enough that you don’t think you have to be nice, someone may think you hot to begin with, but someone can also always change her/his mind…because the law of the ass factor is eternal.

chivalry’s slow suffocation

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Chivalry is not dead. But it is not well, either.

A few years ago I was at a party with some friends. A few of us girls were talking in a little circle when a few guys walked up. One of the guys had an unopened can of root beer in his hand. One of my friends asked him where he had found it. Rather than tell her, he just held his out and said, “Here, have this one. I’ll go grab another.” She refused and repeated her question. They went back and forth, back and forth, and finally I piped up and said, “Seriously, let the poor guy be a gentleman. Take the soda already.” And this story, I believe, is an example how we women are slowly killing Chivalry.

When I was in high school, I had the most amazing crush on one of my friend’s older brothers. I didn’t share it with anyone, but I’m sure it was quite obvious. I was never (and still am not) one for sharing crushes. In any case, I know it was obvious to him. He was a “college boy” and I was a senior. I just thought he walked on water. And while he was not interested in me, he never failed to be a gentleman. Perhaps it was only because he was living at home, but my guess would be that it was more about how he was raised, that he was always like that.

One night we were hanging out (I think I must’ve been at his house waiting for his brother to get home…his brother with whom I was legitimately friends) and we decided to go get a movie at Blockbuster while we were waiting. This experience was all about the “door opening”. He made sure to open every door. I remember thinking, “This is the type of guy I want to end up with. The type who, regardless of whether or not he’s interested in her, will open doors for any and every girl/woman.

We often have dinner at my grandma’s house. She lives just down the road and, as many of our family friends have migrated to Utah, these dinner parties tend to be quite large and they are always buffet style. The ladies always go first. It’s just the way it is. There’s no question. If a man got in line before any individual woman, that would be the end of it. He would forever be known as “the man who had no manners”.

Well, things are not the same anymore. While Chivalry is alive and well chez my grandmother, I am amazed at how much things have changed just in the last 10 years. I have been guilty of it. I have beat men to doors so that I could open them myself. I have not taken a seat on a crowded bus when it was vacated just for me. I have insisted on sitting in the back seat, even when the front was offered. And on and on. Why do we do this? Why don’t we let men be men and appreciate them for it? Why must we be so independent all the time?

I feel bad for the guys out there. How can they possibly know how to act with all of the mixed signals we send them? This Sunday, after church, we had a “Linger Longer” (for those of you who have no idea what this term means, it’s a meal after church, at church…and at my church, as we are all single, it’s an opportunity to see and be seen). After the blessing on the meal was offered, one of the girls in my ward got up and reminded the guys (in a very polite and lighthearted way) that the ladies should go first. The announcement was as much for the ladies as it was for the men. And even after this, half of us stood around, not wanting to be first, waiting for the guys to get in line.

Why do we have to remind guys to let ladies go first? Why do we have to remind ladies to go first? Why do we have to tell men that it bugs us when, after only a few months of dating, they have stopped opening our doors or carrying our luggage? Why, when we stop at the gas station, are we pumping our own gas…even if we are paying for it?

Honestly, I think a good part of it (like 90%) is our own fault. Perhaps not individually, but collectively. Why would Chivalry want to live in a world where it is under-appreciated?

I love Chivalry. I do not want it to die. Of course I can open my own door, pump my own gas, and carry my own luggage. I am perfectly capable of standing on a bus and I will not starve if I get my food after the men. But that’s not the point. Chivalry allows men to be considerate and show their respect for women (and I personally find Chivalry to be super sexy). Why would we want to crush that? So, here is my plea. The next time a guy/man/boy even, offers to open your door, pump your gas, carry your luggage, give you his seat or insists that you go first, take him up on it and say thank you. I think perhaps, with a little mouth-to-mouth, Chivalry will breathe again.

the trip, in photo form (with super long captions)

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This was the first of the self-portraits (sad that it took us until Sunday to take it). Anyway, this is the only photo that’s out of order, but I felt it would be appropriate to start with a photo of Anne and me, as that is what the first two days of the trip were all about. This was taken just before we went in to see the most ridiculously political IMAX movie I have ever seen in my life. It was Sharks 3D. What I was expecting was blood and carnage. What I was expecting was a shark to scare the crap out of me as it came out of the screen to eat me. What I did not expect was the political propaganda that poured forth from the speakers.

Don’t misjudge me, please. I love the ocean. I love sharks. I love diving with them (well, the different reef varieties…I have yet to see any other species while under the sea). It makes me sad that there are people who kill them for their fins, or teeth, or just because. I hate poachers and think they are cruel, horrible, greedy people. It makes me sad, when out diving, to see the damage people do to coral reefs. I hate that there are fewer and fewer places to dive that aren’t damaged. However, I am just not a believer in environmental propaganda, especially when I am paying to be ENTERTAINED.

Here are the lyrics to the worst song I have ever heard…in terms of annoyingness (although later on that day, in the restroom at Chili’s, I heard the Melissa Ethridge song…you know, the theme song to Al Gore’s movie, and if it weren’t for the fact that I actually do like her voice, it would definitely win…it’s a close call). Oh, and the words in italics, those are my thoughts/feelings.

Still Be Blue (which is how I felt listening to this song…blue, because someone thought this was a good idea)

Dark and light
All the shades of gray
Colors overbright (what the hell?)
We can make them fade away

If we respect the balance
of life upon the planet
The sea will still be blue

Sail away to another place
You can feel the air
Feel the wind upon your face
The sea is far below you
It seems to still be blue

If we reject the balance
of life upon the planet
The predator becomes the
prey and so it goes (aren’t all predators prey to something?)
Everybody knows that
the sea will still be blue.

lyrics by Claudia Phillips

The lyrics are bad, but if you have a death wish, go ahead and combine them with the music. Vomilicious. And this is why non-profits need marketers. They could have made this message so much easier to swallow. Instead, it was like one of those disgusting horse pills that makes you think, “Wow, being sick/malnourished from lack of vitamins really isn’t that bad compared to this nastiness.” A spoon full of sugar…Mary Poppins taught some great life lessons. Lessons that Jean-Michel Cousteau might need repeated.

Moving on…

This is Georgetown. If I could afford to move here, I would have done it yesterday. I love the feeling of a city at night, but the quaintness of all of the town homes and gardens. I seriously peeped in windows. I remember doing this on my mission, in one town specifically. I was in Yverdon, Switzerland and there was a little alley we would walk through to get home and I could just see over the fence of this one home and into the back window. I don’t know what it is about looking into a window in the evening, when the lights are on, but I feel like I’m getting a little glimpse of a fantastic secret. Mind you, this is not in the Peeping Tom sense at all (I promise, I’m not like that). It’s just fun to get a glimpse into someone’s life. And I assure you, the town homes in Georgetown are a delight. I drove through this area last year, but it was during the day and I didn’t get out to walk around. We had a lovely time walking around, shopping at Paper Source, people watching and eating. Lots and lots of eating.

The streets of G-town were also the location where our high-speed chase took place. And by “our”, I mean, where we were caught in the middle of a high-speed chase. Anne thought her car was making funny noises, but I assured her it sounded to me like a helicopter. The sound got louder and louder…and then, there were sirens. Lots and lots of sirens. We pulled off to the right (why is that people in this state, Utah, often don’t know how to do that?) and were passed, first, by a big truck with a trailer, and then by cop car after cop car, until probably 20 had passed us. I’m not exaggerating. I’m not sure if they were chasing the truck, or if he was just an idiot who didn’t get over in time. In any case, cop cars started pouring in from different directions, as well. We were at one of those intersections with streets coming from more than four directions, so it was a bit more hectic than your average intersection.

It was after this that we realized that the helicopter we had heard was part of the chase, shining a large spotlight down into the area. Unfortunately, we never did find out what had happened. My sister asked if perhaps it was a police escort. I told her I thought not. I am pretty sure police escorts don’t involve choppers with spotlights or cop cars tearing around corners and coming in from a gazillion different angles. I could be wrong. Anyway, it added a little excitement to our Saturday night.


It was restaurant week in D.C., so we took advantage by eating at this delicious restaurant. The decor was amazing. Exactly the type of elements I hope to have in my fabulous loft and/or townhouse someday. It was oh so contemporary, but very warm and comfortable. And the food, well, it left nothing to be desired.



I know carrot cake may not be the dessert you think of when you think of a posh, contemporary restaurant serving a three course meal, but I assure you it was delectable. And there was something about eating such a homegrown dessert in such modern surroundings that I really enjoyed. Can you tell I love the eating experience?

Anne staged this little photo. It’s something I’m working on. Photo composition. It’s not one of my talents, but I think I’m starting to have a better eye for it.

The bed, after climbing into it, at hotel #2 in downtown D.C. They were gracious enough to find me a room with two double beds so that Anne and I could have a slumber party.

And the sightseeing we did on Sunday. This was the beginning. I love this photo, except that I think I could’ve composed it a bit better. I’m not sure I love the placement of the flowers, but I do love the colors and that the capitol is out of focus.

So, I like to take weird pictures…like this one of my reflection in the hand dryer in the ladies’ room in the botanical gardens. Thinking about it now, I realize how weird it must’ve looked to anyone watching me. Whatever. I’m weird. I’ve accepted it and moved on. I hope you will do the same.

The botanical gardens.

This is the art museum. I didn’t go in it on this trip (I spent hours there the last time I was in D.C.) but I loved the lines of the building from this angle, so I decided to take a picture. I really should crop the top corner, but it took forever to upload these pictures and I’m too tired to bother.

Anne taking a picture of the sculpture garden.

Self-portrait #2. We literally took this photo six times (that is only the number with my camera). I know what you’re thinking. “Six times and this is the one you post?” Yes. We couldn’t seem to get the capitol in the background ever, so…this was the one.


I love this sculpture. This was a new addition to my D.C. sites. I love how the light is illuminating the book in Einstein’s hand. I love that this is a full body shot and I don’t hate it.

The Washington, D.C. temple. We stopped by to leave a package for my old roommate who’s a missionary at the Visitor’s Center. She wasn’t there, but I’m glad I made the effort.

And the last self-portrait. Probably my least fav, but it needed to be included.

Ahh, the suite where the stress began. Thankfully I did have this wonderful room in which to be stressed out. This is the hotel just across from the corporate offices. This is the room where I stared at myself in the mirror for over an hour as I recited my presentation, watching my hand movements and my facial expressions to ensure that I wouldn’t look totally lame. This is the room where I donned that fabulous suit that made me feel like I could take on the world…or at least the executive committee of the company. This is the room where I watched “You’ve Got Mail” on HBO into the wee hours of the morning in an effort to fall asleep without getting stuck in my head, a movie that always makes me angry because I hate the final scene between Meg and Tom. Does he really have to say, “Don’t cry Shopgirl,*” and did they really have to do such a bad job with the sound editing? I mean, it doesn’t sound like they are in a park AT ALL. (I didn’t used to be such a movie snob…but then I met Sarah ;-), although I knew there was something off about the sound.)

This is also the room where I got a phone call from my dad at 3:45 am wondering where I was and if I was okay. I love that living at home doesn’t mean that my dad is totally involved in my life, especially because I often don’t see him to tell him what’s going on…and he doesn’t have the greatest memory. I also love that he was worried about me. Worried enough that when he realized I wasn’t home at 1:45 am on a Monday morning (it’s par for the course for me to get home super late (or early) on Fridays and Saturdays, but not Sundays), he decided he should probably try and get a hold of me. I love that, as I told him I was going back to sleep, he said, “Love you, punkin'”. Sure, it disrupted my sleep, but there’s nothing like a little love from Nev to help stress level decrease.

*Thanks, Jules, for reminding me about the worst part. “Shopgirl”. Gag!

feeling in the air

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This trip to D.C. was something that I had been looking forward to for a long time for several reasons. Not the least of which was meeting Anne. But something happened to me when I got off the plane in Virginia and walked outside to wait for the shuttle to the hotel.

I was standing on the curb with some time to just think. It occurred to me that my only memories of this city were thick with the boy. It was just over a year ago that I had been there for the first time, on my journey away from him. I remembered wishing that I’d had him there to share it with me. I remembered all of the time I spent on the phone with him as I walked around the monuments and museums. It’s funny how little things can effect you in such unexpected ways. I hadn’t really thought about how I would feel being back in D.C.

My thoughts then wandered (yes, I was on the curb for a while…the shuttle comes every 15 minutes and apparently I had missed it by seconds) to a list of questions. These unknowns began spinning in my head; can I really spend three more years in P-town above Nev’s garage? am I really prepared to never get married if it never happens? what if I don’t ever get to have children of my own? how will I ever afford grad school if I go somewhere besides this school? how did I, the girl who’s not even in the MBA program, end up here, on a fully paid-for trip to make a presentation to the CEO and executive committee of this company? Yes, it is exhausting having my brain. It never stops.

Most people would face these questions with some anxiety and much apprehension, but on this beautiful, breezy night, those were not the feelings such questions procured. I began to feel this overwhelming sense of peace. I thought about where I was a year ago versus where I am today. I thought about all of the things I have faced in the last year that I would have never thought myself strong enough to do/endure/survive. And then I thought about my future. I thought about all of the possibilities ahead of me. I thought about all of my options. And I began to feel an amazing sense of gratitude and hope.

There was something in the air (and no, it wasn’t the exhaust from all of the buses, shuttles, cars and cabs). Something that just calmed me down. It was this feeling that my life, right at that moment, was exactly as it should be. I’ve experienced this feeling on several different occasions, but there was something so amazing about such a feeling when I feel like there are so many unknowns in my life at the moment. It was one of those moments that you wish will never end. I could have stood on that curb for hours just to keeping feeling that feeling. It’s those moments, those small, unexpected, absolutely delicious moments, the ones you wish you could drink, that make life wonderful.

I knew it was going to be a great weekend…and I was right.