Is it any wonder I'm tired?

A friend of mine who reads my blog but NEVER BOTHERS TO POST asked me how I chose the topics that I blog about. Truth be told, I blog when inspiration hits. Blogging can't be forced. If it is, then I think it will suck. Anyway, I'm not one to to name names, but my friend can be seen in This picture and This one.

I've been off of work since the Friday before Christmas. Friday wasn't so bad, my girls went to their babysitter and I was able to have some completely selfish fun. By saturday I had FINALLY finished Christmas shopping for them, and by Sunday, I was relaxed, despite the fact that my husband had to work and it was just me and the girls at home. On Monday, we had a good Christmas. We visited my in-laws and my parents, the girls were spoiled beyond belief, and we got their new beds with new bedding that Santa brought them all set up.

The truth of the matter is, I don't think I could cut it as a stay at home mom. Selfishly, I love the time I spend at work. I love being "Christy" and not mother and wife. I love making decisions and knowing that what I do and say makes a difference in how things are done. I'm an instant gratification kind of person. It's an overwhelming, daunting task to know that what I do and say will probably end up being talked about on a therapists couch, one day. I try my hardest, but I know that eventually, they'll regret everything that I've done for them. I'll just do my best to get them the help that they need and not take it personally. No parent is perfect.

At that note, I'm dreading going back to work. Until a couple of months ago, I was the only person who did my job. With this knowledge, I had a hard time taking time off knowing I was going to have to go back and it would all still be there for me to do. Last fall, my boss allowed me to hire someone to do the busy work so that I could focus on other things. She's been amazing and has caught on extremely well. But I'm still afraid to go back. It's only wednesday and I already have butterflies over what is waiting for me at my desk.

If I don't know where it was made, I don't want it!

My department has had 3 lunches this month, scheduled for the holidays. One of them was an end of year "Thank You" (can no longer classify official business meetings as Holiday) held by our department VP. It was a very classy event held at a prestigious restaurant, with great food and service. The second was held the very next day for the entire business unit. Lunch was catered in from a local business, lame gifts were given out, and it was okay. The third was held today, just a department potluck and white elephant gift exchange.

I really don't like potlucks. It's not so much a dislike, but rather, a fear. First of all, you don't know what the kitchens of your co-workers look like. You don't know if they wash their hands at home. You're not sure who as been in the line before you, touching the same utensils and breathing on the food. So many unknowns. Yet if you chose to not participate, the potential is there to be seen as the department scrooge. Such is my dilemma.

I "accidentally" forgot to bring a gift to exchange (not really- I just have no desire to trade my crap for someone elses), and brought a pre-made salad from Costco. I purposely waited for everyone else to go, and got at the end of the line. Then the department slug got in line behind me. This slug is a man that I work with that is the most condescending sexist pig I've ever met. How he is still employed by my very politically correct company, I'll never know. I know of at least 2 occasions that he's been busted for porn viewing in the office. His wife is a BYU professor! When he speaks to me he acts like he's teaching a sunbeam class. And he's huge... probably 6'4" and 300 pounds. And he's in line behind me. Behind me isn't a good way to put it, more like, he got in line ON TOP OF ME. Literally breathing down my back, his stomach touching my arm and waaaaaaaay over invading my personal space. So I got out of line and went back to my desk. I'm not THAT eager to make an appearance.

I wait for everyone to finish, and am the very last in line. No room for me at the big table, I have to sit at the "little kids" table with 2 others.

Doesn't every office have these lame-ass potlucks? Why? Does anyone REALLY like them? I mean, don't most people have the exact same experience I just described?

To end on a happy note, this was my last day of work until 2007. Yipee!!

Weirdness ensues

More on the weird stuff. I have to direct your attention to the comments on my post below about my weird traits. My BFF Shiree tried to sneak in some weird things about herself thinking that they would go un-noticed, and I can't have that. Everyone should get to experience the joy that is Shiree, in whatever way possible.

Now I get to sing the praises about my friend, because it's my blog and I'll gush if I want to.

Shiree has a smile that brightens any room she enters. There are some people in crowds who do everything they can to be the center of attention, then there are people who just are. This is the type of person that everyone is drawn to and can't stop staring at. The latter is Shiree. She has the most infectious laugh that I've ever heard, you can't not enjoy every moment of being in her presence. She dances like Shakira at 3 in the morning when everyone else is coming off of their drunken stupors and ready to crash. She is more crafty than Martha Stewart, plays the drums like a rockstar (I'm not kidding!), and has been known to wake her husband in the middle of the night to give HIM oral satisfaction. Yup, she is, without a doubt, the perfect woman. And I'm lucky enough to call her BFF!

Here we are, with one of our other BFF's Erica, at the party that we met La at last year:

I'm sandwiched between Erica (left) and Shiree (right), which is how I like it! We are post tequila shot with oranges and just as happy as can be.

I love you Shiree, and all the weirdness that comes with you is just the icing on the cake!

(PS- happy late birthday to Rob! It was the 18th and I totally flaked. I'm sorry, Rob!!)

Elevator Etiquette

Now it's time for a completely random thought by Christy.





I've worked in the same building for the past 10 years, 7 months, and 13 days. The building I work in is rather large, mostly in width and depth, but only 4 stories high. The planning of this building was not well thought out. You enter on one side of the building, and walk into a grand atrium with skylights, trees, and elevators. This is the only elevator access throughout the building. To finish setting this pointless story up, I have worked on the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd floors.

It is an un-written rule, that unless you have an obvious major medical condition, you do not take the elevator to the second floor without receiving looks to kill. There is a fun spiral staircase in the atrium that goes up one level, or there are countless stairwells throughout the building. The elevators are painfully slow, so people on the 3rd and 4th floors feel highly inconvenienced if you have to make a stop at the 2nd. When I was pregnant with twins I worked on the second floor, and I would have contractions when walking up the stairs. Every time I got in the elevator, I felt like I had to explain to everyone why I was there and making them stop.

Now that I work on the 3rd floor, I have a set of standards that I try to abide by. If I'm going up stairs, and happen to be walking in front of the elevator and the door is open, I'll take the elevator. Otherwise, I take the stairs. This morning I got in the elevator and kept the door open for a woman who was running towards me saying "Please hold the elevator for me!" Okay, no problem. I, following proper elevator etiquette, say "Which floor?" as I pressed the number three button. The woman says "Oh, three is good."

Three is good? Does she not know which floor she needs to go to work on? So wherever I'm going, it's good for her? Truthfully, I think she needed to go to the second floor, but didn't want me to give her the evil eye, so she asked for 3 and walked to 2. It could be that I'm overanalyzing this. Personally, I think it's easier to walk up a flight of stairs than it is to walk down a flight of stairs. But I'm weird like that.

With this big long pointless boring story, I'll end it like this. Even still, as annoying as it is to stop on the second floor for the lazy peeps, it still beats the one thing that makes me cringe, that I hear almost daily. It's worth repeating, this building has 4 floors. After I ask "Which floor?" Someone trying to be clever and make small talk in an elevator full of strangers, will inevitably say "Five please, I hear that's where the hot tub is".

It defies all sense of personal integrity to laugh out of courtesy.

More fun than should be allowed

I found this a few years ago, and every year I get such a kick out of it... you should too! Holiday Snowglobe

I suck at the blog updating lately! Not that I think anyone is on pins and needles just waiting to find out what happens in my oh-so-boring (yet terribly exciting) life. But if I don't continue to update, you won't continue to come back and read and respond, then what will happen to our sEXMObile created by Gluby?


Last night we went to Jer's family Christmas party. First time I've seen most of his extended family since announcing our exodus more than a year ago. We couldn't go to the party last year because it fell on the same night as the U2 concert, and I have priorities. I was still greeted kindly and hugged by everyone, but I think most of them didn't know what to do with me beyond that. I did my best to not only look great, but be happy the entire time.

Yesterday my daughter Emilie was asking about her nipples, and we got to talking about how all mammals have nipples. Then she said "Does Santa Clause have nipples?" I couldn't contain my laughter at this point- that's an image I've not ever thought of. "Yes Emilie, Santa Clause has nipples too!" After she thought about that for a minute, she said "Well are they really big nipples?"

I tried doing a google image search for a Santa Clause with nipples and couldn't come up with anything. My photoshop abilities do not rock. So here's my request for those of you with the mad photoshop skillz- create an image of Santa Clause with nipples for me? And NOT Mrs. Santa Clause. I want the old jolly fat guy. Pete or Gluby, I'm leaving this in your very capable hands.

Tagged by Sideon!

Sideon, it's a good thing I like you, or else I would tell you to piss up a rope! (I totally stole that from Pete Dunn)

I'm supposed to blog about six weird things about me. The thing is, I'm the most boring, normal person in the world. There really are not six weird things about me. Pete Dunn has a great idea- he said he's going to devote his next 6 posts that are weird facts about him. I briefly considered stealing that idea from him (Pete- don't hate! Imitation is the most sincere form of flattery!), but then I realized that my posts would be boring and normal. Here I go, trying to come up with six weird things about me, and I'll try to not be normal.

1. I love dust. I blame this on the fact that I'm low in iron. Everywhere I go, if I see dust, I wipe it. It's a sickness. I love watching the dust disappear. If there's a lot, I love to blow on it and watch the particles in the air. When I talk to co-workers, I will start dusting their desks without realizing it. I don't eat dust-- I just love playing with it. And I crave the smell from the dust on my window blinds in my bedroom, but only from there. My iron levels are dangerously low, even after taking supplements. I blame this on that.

2. I hum without knowing it. A couple of years ago I had a co-worker talking about how noises people make annoy her, and she said "But Christy's humming doesn't bother me". I said "What?? I don't hum! You must be hearing something else!" and she agreed with me. Later I was telling my cubie mate about this, and she said "Christy, you DO hum! Especially when you're concentrating on something." WTF?!?! Then the next day, I caught myself. Yeah, I hum. I've tried to stop, but I'm sure I still do it without realizing.

3. I have a few OCD traits, but they're probably pretty normal. I'm always afraid of leaving my flat iron or curling iron plugged in. I don't believe that they're really unplugged unless I actually touch the plug at least twice. I always forget, and have to run back to check. I've even driven away from my house, and had to turn around and go back home to make sure everything is unplugged. It ALWAYS is.

4. My fingers, toes, knees, and hips are double jointed. Here's the freak that I am- when I was 10 or 11 years old, I used to twist my fingers up before I took the sacrament. Most people try to twist their fingers, but they can't do it like I do. For me, it was a way to attract the boys passing the sacrament. Most girls try to primp and look pretty, but Christy tries to look deformed. I guess I really am a freak. Oh, and I can play Nintendo with my toes.

5. My memory is insane. In fact, I play it down so that people don't think that I'm stalking them. I remember everything about people. Their names, birthdays, where they're from, their phone numbers, etc. I pretend to forget the details, but I remember all of this of about 90% of people I meet. If I don't remember, it's because something must have distracted me when I learned the information. I usually lie and say I don't remember, just so I can feel like I'm normal.

6. I can talk really really fast. When I get nervous or speak in front of a crowd, I have to keep reminding myself to slow down my speech. My dad used to tell me that it sounded like I was speaking a foreign lanugage, I was speaking so fast.

Damn, those were really lame. I'm so boring. So now who do I torture by tagging?

Ros
Belaja
Liseysmom
Floating in the Milk
Regina Filangi
Cutie Patootie Rebecca

It's all about picking your battles

Last summer, my mom had what we think is a nervous breakdown. My dad announced to her about 3 years ago, that after 40 years of marriage, he has never believed in the church. My mom is what some might call a church addict. She's struggled with serious depression ever since, although she never let on to what she was going through. She always put on a happy face and tried to ignore the feelings. Last spring, I told her that I didn't believe in mormonism anymore, and would no longer be practicing, nor would I raise my children that way. Again, she put on a happy face and said "Only you know what the best path in life is!" and the discussion was over.

Back to the nervous breakdown. It's a really long story and I won't get into the details, but the nuts and bolts of it is that one day she started speaking really strangely, saying very odd things, and she actually sounded drunk. Her speech was slurred, she wasn't making any sense. Her body was uncontrollabley shaking, and she was hearing voices and seeing spots. After a few calls to her doctor, my dad was advised to take her to the emergency room.

To wind this up, she was put through several tests, given all sorts of medications, and her doctors were baffled. I witnessed everything first hand, and I know she wasn't faking any of it. Ever since then, I've been unconsciously detaching myself from the situation. I want to be there for her, but I don't know how to act or what to say in her presence. She's still not herself, and I'm doubtful that she ever will be herself again. She still says really odd things... for instance, after recently returning from my business trip to NYC, she said "So did you go to Florida, too?" Yeah, because it's a hop, skip, and a jump, right? This is not my mom. My mom is bright and intelligent and independant. She only has little moments that make me remember who she used to be.

Today my mom calls me and says "I found the most adorable Christmas book for the girls! It has two stories, one about how Santa knows what they're doing and loves them and gives them presents, then the other is the same story, but only it's about Jesus! Isn't that great? You still teach them about Jesus, don't you?" I hope you'll understand why I didn't have the heart to tell her no. I guess I'll let her read the girls the book when she gives it to them, then I'll put it on a shelf until it's eventually sent to the DI. (Deseret Industries... local thrift shop for you non Utahn or LDS folk)

I'm sorry Ros, gosh!!

Ros posted a comment in my last post that she's impatiently waiting for my next update. Ros is one of the few people I will let boss me around (rawrrr!) so here's my update on nuthin'...

Christmas is 2 weeks away, and I'm a little freaked out. Still have done only minimal shopping. We took the girls to the mall to see Santa yesterday, and I had to peek my head into Express, just to see what they had to offer, plus I received a $15 off coupon in the mail that I *have* to use before December 24th. I'm not one to pass up anything discounted from Express... so I ended up shopping for me! :) Then the adorable sales girl gave me a $10 off coupon for a future visit before December 24th. You can bet on the fact that I will return for another purchase... those Express marketing reps are pure genious! Of course, I believe their clothes sell themselves.

My post about the Victoria's Secret model generated quite the response, I was highly entertained with each comment! Combine this with the fact that some of my friends have told me that they read my blog, but they NEVER BOTHER TO POST!! So here I am, begging and pleading all of you who are reading this, please say hi?? You can remain anonymous, although I would prefer to know who you are, beggars can't be choosers. You don't need to post anything more than "hi!". I would just like to get a general idea of how many lurkers are out there.

Please?? Pretty please?? I'm not above bribery!

Why does Jesus have to spoil Christmas?

My husbands younger brother found his myspace page where Jer lists himself as an Atheist. Little brother has known that Jer left mormonism for quite some time now, but I guess the thought never crossed his mind that he might become *gasp* an ATHEIST!! How could this be?? The evil horror! So little brother freaks out to mom and dad, who actually done made me proud by quoting the 11th Article of Faith "We claim the privilege of worshipping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship how, where, and what they may."

So Jer gets a wild hair up his ass and sends little brother a message just to torment him, something about how atheists eat babies. It turned into a back and forth battle of the wits, in which little brother is poorly equipped. After a few messages, it stopped being fun for Jer. It's pointless to pick on someone in a different league. Little brother was very concerned about our hypocrisy of celebrating Christmas. Whatevah, what the thinks has never bothered me.

Tonight we did what many Atheists do around Christmas time, and went to see Ballet West's Nutracker:



My daughters sat enchanted the entire time, I can't even get them to do that with movies! The performance was spectacular as always, and we had a fantastic time. On the way there, I decided to put on some Christmas music to make me feel more festive. *sigh* Most of the songs they played are songs that I used to love and loved to sing with, then listening to the words, I decided that little brother might be right about having to be christian in order to celebrate Christmas.

I came home to an email from my friend Jeff (known on the DAMU as SL Slacker- known worldwide as a fantastic writer), in which he stated "It seems every time I put on a Christmas CD I'm enjoying the music when all of a sudden it blurts out something like "Oh Praise Jesus - Bow down and be clean from your sins because of the little baby." or something like that."

I couldn't agree more with Jeff, couldn't agree more.

Now I know what to ask Santa for Christmas!

My dreams have come true today. Does anyone remember this post? Well Pete Dunn remembered, and emailed me a link to this today.

Thanks Pete, you're my new best friend!

Get your Sexy on!

Last night my husband and I watched the Victoria's Secret fashion show, which was so much fun. We both lust after the same Angel, Alessandra Ambrosio:






She's been my catalogue favorite for a couple of years, although it's depressing when I buy something that she's wearing and I don't look nearly as fantastic.

Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia

I learned this word yesterday, from a business colleague of mine in the UK. This is a colleauge who intentionally tries to use at least 5 big words in each sentence to confuse and dismay people. Really, he's admitted to this fact.

Me: "Thanks for the info, Peter, but I don't think I'll ever make use of that word."
Him: "Why not? It's a perfectly functional, fine word."
Me: "I refuse to use words I can't even pronounce!"
Him: "What's so difficult about Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia?" (yes, he said it with ease and finesse!)
Me: "Okay, I'll try. Hipopotamusblahblahblabha"
Him: "Keep practicing, you'll get it one day!"

Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia means the fear of long words. While I may not always use long words, I'm okay with them. That being said, I have many other irrational fears. Here is my confession:

• Voice Mail. I see that red light on my phone, and I avoid it until it can't be avoided any longer. This has actually gotten me in trouble once or twice. Moral of this story is, if you want to talk to me, wait until you can get ahold of me, email me, or text me. Chances are, I won't get your voicemail until much after the fact.
• Anything in my eyes. I count myself lucky for still having perfect vision. When the time comes that I need corrective lenses, I hope I'll look as hot as Tina Fey, because I'll wear glasses for the rest of my life.
• Toilet flushers. I refuse to touch with my hands, always kick it with my shoes.
• Speaking of bathrooms, the door handles of public restrooms. I always use papertowels to open the bathroom door.
• Swimming in lakes. I'm afraid that I'm going to swim across a dead body. Too many horror movies, perhaps?
• Movie theater seats. I'm very picky as to what seats I'll sit in. Because of this, I only go to newer movie theaters, and arrive early so that I can sit in a seat that doesn't gross me out.
• Spiders. But I disagree that this fear is irrational.
• Hotel room comforters. I've seen one too many dateline specials on this. As soon as I enter my hotel room, the comforter is stripped off the bed and put on the floor.

Okay, wow. I could keep going on, but I believe this is enough neurosis exposed for now.

Please tell me I'm not the only one with irrational fears?

Hell, I would have married Wanda!

*****!!!WARNING!!!*****

*****What is contained hereafter is talk about season 1 of Big Love. If you have not seen this, but have every desire to, DO NOT READ ANY MORE OF THIS POST!!!*****

*****SPOILERS FROM HERE ON OUT!!!*****


I finally finished watching Season 1 of Big Love.

WOW WOW WOW!!! I loved this series, and can't wait for more. I love how the HBO producers have such a knack for character development.

First thing's first. I loved the core women in this show. Everyone from Barb to Wanda to Bill's mom. I know that at first I had dislike towards Nikki, but that quickly changed. Hell, who doesn't love a woman who knows how to not only carry a washer out of her house, but fix it? I wonder if she will marry me??? I loved watching Nikki and the way she worked. I also loved Barb and Margie, for what each of their characters had to offer. I could easily see why Bill fell in love with each of them. And even though some of the wording or pronounciation was off "recoMEND", I still felt like so much of it was a nod to ex-mo's. There are so many things that you could only understand *AND* appreciate if you are a former mormon.

So, to summarize, I loved each character, and the developments they made throughout the story. Polygamy would be an extremely rough lifestyle, even if modernized, I couldn't really do it.

I do wonder about Barb, and what season 2 will bring. I hated that she was disqualified from the Mother of the Year award, that scene was rather heart breaking. I wonder what will turn out with Ben? I went from thinking that he had a thing for Margie, to thinking that he was possibly gay. And I think that Rhonda is a little Nikki in the making. The Alby character absolutely gave me the creeps, is it bad if I wanted him dead and loved Wanda for doing something to him?

Readers who have watched the show (and I know there are many of you), what say ye?

You must believe me, this really is FUNNY!

"(Let's Have) A Patrick Swayze Christmas"
from Santa Claus Conquers the Martians

Listen to the song HERE

Transcribed by Paul Ashley and Lisa Jenkins

[On the satellite:]

JOEL: I think it's kind of, uh, hot to be wearing these scarves in here.
TOM: Oh, yeah.
CROW: Well, scarves are a must. You can't go caroling without a scarf. Catch your death!
JOEL: Man, you were like one of those kids I remember in, uh, high school that used to sell the most candy bars for the marching band.
TOM: Yeah, and you'd be president of the swing choir, too.
CROW: Ha ha! Ah, thanks, Joel Robinson. Thanks, Tom Servo.
TOM: What a kiss-up, this guy.
CROW: Okay, now if you'll all look at your sheet music, uh, we can rehearse my new song.
JOEL: You wrote a Christmas song?
CROW: Hey, there's no tradition like a new tradition! Ha ha ha!
TOM: Um, wait a minute. "Let's Have a Patrick Swayze Christmas?"
CROW: Oh, yeah, yeah. Based on my favorite movie, Roadhouse.
TOM: C'mon, what the heck does PATRICK SWAYZE have to do with CHRISTMAS?!
CROW: Hey, you keep Christmas in your way, and let me keep it in mine, okay?
TOM: Oh, geeez.
JOEL: Hey, c'mon, Tom Servo, it seems like a nice enough sentiment and we can give it a shot. C'mon.
CROW: All right. Okay. Okay. Uh, 12/8 time, uh, key of A-flat major--
TOM: Good.
CROW: Uh, Cambot, shoot 'em the tune. Uh, okay, you'll just have to stay with me, everybody, okay? Uh, your part's written out. "Let's Have a Patrick Swayze Christmas", by Crow T. Robot.
JOEL: "Paul, let's have a Patrick Swayze Christmas"?
CROW: Right. Hit it, Cambot!
TOM: Oh! Oh, I start. I get it. Hmm.
CROW: I'm sorry.
TOM: Pick it up.

Open up your heart and let the Patrick Swayze Christmas in.

CROW: We'll gather at the Roadhouse with our next of kin.
TOM: Not bad!
JOEL: And Santa can be our regular Saturday night thing.
'BOTS: We'll decorate our barstools and gather round and sing.
TOM: Oh, let's have a Patrick Swayze Christmas this year!
CROW: Or we'll tear your throat out and kick you in the ear!
JOEL: Hold it, hold it a sec. Cambot, stop it. Uh, Crow, I don't know if I think this is an appropriate sentiment anymore for Christmas.
CROW: Hey, what? Like a good action sequence don't belong in Christmas?
JOEL: Well, no, it's just that I've never heard of an action sequence in a Christmas carol before.
TOM: Well, yeah!
CROW: Well, then grab hold o' your socks and read on, Joel Robinson!
TOM: Okay, pick it up from measure 20, Cambot. Lovely intro, though. Very tasteful.
CROW: Thank you.
TOM: I like that.

It's my way or the highway, this Christmas at my ba-ha-haar.

CROW: I'll have to smash your kneecaps if you bastards touch my car!
JOEL: I got the word that Santa has been stealing from the till.
'BOTS: I think that that right jolly old elf better make out his will, ohh,
ALL: Oh, let's have a Patrick Swayze Christmas, one and all.

And this can be the haziest...
This can be the laziest...
This can be the Swayziest
Christmas of them aaallllllllll!"

TOM: La la la laa ha HAAA!
CROW: How long before it becomes a standard?
JOEL: I think you gotta come with me. C'mon.
CROW: Waaaaah!
TOM: We'll be right back. Oooh. Save a leg for me! Heh heh heh.

Pretty soon you're gonna get a little older

I have a brother who is 10 years older than me, and we've always gotten along very well. When I was younger he absolutely spoiled me-- for instance, when I was in Kindergarten, he used to pick me up from school on his motorcycle and take me out to lunch. All of my friends thought I had the coolest brother, and I did!

My brother got into drugs and alcohol at a very young age, and he became an addict, who got worse with time. In his 20's, he was in and out of jail often. By the time he was 30, he found himself in prison, thanks to his illegal substances and fraud. Fast forward to today, he is now 11 years sober, has a gorgeous wife and three adorable children, a thriving career, beautiful home, and has completely repaid all of his debts to society. He truly is a changed man.

After my brother had been released for a couple of years, it was clear that he was well on his way to success. He and I were talking one day, and he knew how completely unhappy I was with about every aspect of my life. He said to me "I believe people are going to live thier lives however works for them. Until a person hits rock bottom and realizes the lifestyle can't continue, they won't work hard enough make the necessary changes." I was so pissed at him when he said this to me, I actually left the room, went into my bathroom, and cried. How dare he tell me that I wasn't working hard enough to change!

He was right. Approximately two years after this conversation, I was 27, and still hating so much about my life. I took a really hard look at myself, and figured out what I needed to do to make some changes. For those of you who know me now, you would not recognize the 27 year old Christy. I don't look, act, think, or feel the same. I'm a different person physically and mentally. I would post a picture to prove this fact, but I didn't allow pictures of myself to be taken back then. I hated myself, that much.

Ages 27-29 were pretty much hell for me in many aspects. It took that long to work really hard and change myself. It was the hardest thing I've ever done, and so many times I wanted to give up, but it was so.worth.it. I'm not saying I'm perfect now, far from it. I'm still a work in progress, and hope that will always be the case. I never want to stagnate! But I'm so much happier with me, and I know that my friends and family are as well.

The idea for this post came up when I was having a conversation with a friend who is very unhappy with his current state of life. He has so much desire to change, but doesn't know where to start or how to begin. He doesn't know if he's hit rock bottom or is still pinging against the sides, in transit. To him I say this: Take advantage of the time you have now to make the necessary changes. It's not going to be easy, nor is it going to be fun. "Pretty soon you're gonna get a little older" (thanks David Bowie!), and you may as well be a changed man by the time you get there. But do it for yourself, or else it's not gonna happen.