Downer

If you can't tell by the hair man hands, this is a dude, not a pregnant chick. I had a tough time with that. Unfortunately, when I ask for a guy with a six pack this is kind of what I am handed. I would like to think that all this body work I am doing will eventually pay off, but today I am having some issues feeling, well, like I'm good looking. It's not a self esteem thing. I have great self esteem. I'm really cool.

Thinking about going blonde. In my mind when I'm talking to guys it seems to me they are looking at me wishing I looked like....well, in my mind it's a girl I used to know E. Stokke, long straight blonde hair and she weighed about 2lbs total. I started straightening my hair to go to work. I know, somewhat futile, but results have been kind of good looking. Plus, and this is ridiculous bitching now so be warned, none of my clothes fit. I swim in most of it, so if there has been progress made in getting skinny, nobody can see it anyway --they just see a girl who keeps pulling at her pants awkwardly because her underwear is huge on her. Embarrassing. Not appealing. So, the changes don't feel rewarding. Then I get hungry, then I get sad. I must be totally mental. Perhaps I should just get another dog and consign myself to my fate.

The highs are high, the lows are low. I am pretty sure I will win my fantasy match-up tonight. We both have two players to play, but I have a QB and WR and she has a K and QB (who is not Tom 'beat your ass' Brady).  We shall see, but I am fairly confident. Which is nice. I am excited to have something to be competitive about again. I missed that. Work does not satisfy that. The occasional game of Yahtzee does not satisfy that. Lame attempts to be with another human being do not satisfy that. Now, fantasy football, that satisfies that desire.

Part of my disappointment today is also in the fact that I have to work Friday night and did not have enough fun money to get tickets to the Lincoln Symphony Orchestra's Friday night season opener. And I had really been looking forward to it. Really, really. So, I try to comfort myself --oh, that is okay, we will go see them later in the season, or whatever. Sure, just one more thing to heap on the pile of broken promises to myself. It is starting to not make so much sense to just keep working on things that never really pan out. I have no idea what the alternative would be as I have never really quit trying to accomplish goals, but I am starting to get tired, just really tired, somewhat melancholy. The fighting it wears upon me. I am punch drunk and battle weary.