Pull a Blanket Round You Baby in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

Eek. I’m struggling to get things done lately. The Thanksgiving invitations aren’t out yet, my apartment’s still a shambles (if it isn’t one area, it’s another), and I even feel like I’m lagging a little at work. More speed daters have written me that I haven’t written back…I’m not really interested in the other guys, but I want to do the honest thing and at least reply.

I just woke from a dream that I had to give yet another presentation, but I wasn’t prepared and I ended up giving it while I was dressed in satin pajamas. Pink, no less. Even after I woke from that nightmare, I couldn’t rouse myself from the bed. Even after the snooze button was pushed a couple of times and the cat started bouncing all over me like a tiny Tigger.

That’s what I get for making my bed so warm and snuggly. Now that it’s cooling down outside, my apartment is colder than what I’m comfortable with. They won’t turn the steam on until it gets really cold out (supposedly a lot of work to turn on—so the property managers say). So I find myself hunkering down into the softness until the very last possible minute. Who needs a man when your bed is so yummy? He’d just mess it up anyway. Nice way of thinking, eh?

There’s a Lloyd Cole song that goes:

You don’t need a lover in this climate
You don’t need a boyfriend in your bed
These days, these days
Pull a blanket round you baby

That’s exactly what I’m doing.

I sent an e-mail back to MM and as I expected, he hasn’t written back. Which is fine. I agree with you all—he needs to pull himself out of his funk. Especially since I have a tendency to let myself be drawn into others’ funks to a certain degree. So I’ll let it lie and crawl back to bed on that one.

I blew my diet this week. But I’m cutting myself a break for two reasons: it was my birthday and also PMS week. Double whammy! When I walked into the office yesterday, I noticed that I’d left half of the birthday cake on a table in my area (oops). Sure did make a nice breakfast! Luckily, I was able to pander off a big slice to someone else. But the rest was still sitting there after lunch, just staring at me. Calling to me. I barely mustered up enough willpower to toss it into the trash. Here’s the sad part. For the rest of the day I kept thinking that it was still salvageable. I could even smell the icing! Nobody would know. I could be really, really quiet and pull a little piece back out. Thank goodness I didn’t give into that urge. But I seriously thought about it.

After work, I went to the grocery store and bought all the fixins to make a gigantic salad. While I was driving, I simply couldn’t wait and ripped open the bag of croutons. I had half the bag eaten by the time I pulled into the parking garage!

I laugh about it now, but I weigh myself tomorrow. I’ll be very, very lucky if I’ve maintained. And something tells me that this is not my lucky week.

Fucking food issues.

Bought some new workout garb over the weekend and tried them out on Monday at kickboxing. The top was a great little tank thing with a pretty sturdy-feeling shelf bra, but the pants were more like jammie pants…really soft and drapey. I wore them with nothing underneath. Big mistake. The jiggle factor was completely out of control. The pants kept creeping their way up my butt crack and the top was not as sturdy as I thought. I kept looking at myself in the mirror and all I could see were nipples and jiggly hips. Frightening.

Speaking of frightening, I’m supposed to go to yet another Halloween party on Friday. I don’t want to go. I went to one last Friday, and it was a complete disaster. I didn’t have any kind of costume put together, so I quickly pulled together a very unoriginal black cat. I tried to “cute” it up a bit with black fishnet stockings, and then went all the way and stuffed my bra with those little miracles to us small-chested women: falsies (Okay, that’s what my mom calls them anyway…they’re actually those cool, fleshy, silicone pillowlike things. They look and feel very real. And they work great during times when I feel like my figure needs to be balanced out a bit in certain outfits). I was out on the dance floor with the whole group having a great time when I decided to pull out Mike’s sword (he was dressed as a swashbuckler) and wave it around in the air like I just didn’t care. Well, as I was waving around with glee, one of my boobs decided to make a break for it and fell out of my bra, down through my shirt and….BOUNCED onto the dance floor!!! Right in the middle of EVERYONE!!! I shoved the sword back in Mikes hand (he was more than baffled), snatched the boob from the floor, and ran into the bathroom and died. DIED! When I went back out, Mike was practically peeing his pants. My friend Jill told me not to worry. The other girls had given him some lame story about it being a shoulder pad…but really now. Who wears shoulder pads?! Mortification at it’s finest.

No more Halloween parties for me. I have to figure out how to get out of this one.

Well, I should go get ready for work now. But first I think I’m going to warm up in the bed for just a little longer. Dangerous, I know. But oh, sooooo warrrrmmm.