A little off-topic (OT) but…
So, I’ve been getting some shi-I mean, feedback from my friends about my (harsh) comments about my life in O-Town. To summarize:
It has been suggested that perhaps I should try not to surround myself with families so much and that I need some single friends in the city. This is true. I only have 2 single friends here. Literally every other friend I have here is either in a relationship, married, flipping a house, having babies or all of the above. Ottawa is absolutely fabulous for that kind of thing! I’d love it in a second if that’s where I was in my life. But I’m not. Yet.
It’s been suggested that I should move to TO or some other larger city in Canada. This is the truest of the true. Ultimately, this is my goal. However, I need to find a job to fund the journey elsewhere. I’m also not too keen on moving away from every single member of my family to somewhere across the country. After all, I did move back to Canada to be closer to my family.
It’s also been suggested that each city is what one makes of it. This is also true. Since I don’t have much money I haven’t really been able to make my experience here my own. I am now vowing that this shall change when I get a job.
In fact, I found this super awesome exhibition at the National Gallery of Canada that I definitely have to hit when I’ve got some dosh. It even came all the way from LONDON!! Yayyyyy!! It’s called Pop Life: Art in a Material World and I positively pumped to see it.
So, I’m hoping I’m wrong about living in capital and when I get a job I will test that theory. Until then, I’m a grumpy girl missing my city life.
So, I pondered my little predicament over the last couple of days and I really am truely tired of this city. At first I thought it might be simply my lack of employment and general purpose in this imperfect society or perhaps my inability to chew away the pain, but the more I think about living my life in this small town city, the more I realise that ultimately, it’s not what I want.
Even if by some stroke of good fortune I find myself in the job of my Ottawa dreams I’m not sure it will be enough. A lack of consistent income has meant a steady increase in my debt-load which, quite frankly, I’m already struggling to cart around. So, any money I might make certainly won’t be the solution to my sorrows.
I’ve already got my family here and I’ve got some lovely friends. It’s just that I’m so BORED I honestly don’t know what to do with myself. And my priorities are simply NOT the same as most of O-town’s residents. It’s a LOVELY city if you want to own a house or you’ve got a family and plan to raise kiddies. But as everyone knows, little Baby Mac’s are NOT in my future.
Consider me the Carrie of my friends only a little less promiscuous and considerably less fashionable (and currently Mr Big-less). Speaking of which, I saw SATC2 and despite the critics’ condemnation, I quite loved it. It was a pretty simple story and a lot of the attire was ridiculous at best but it was a fun film nonetheless. And it made me miss London. A lot.
I don’t want to go backwards so I’m not going back to The Big Smoke (unless I’m visiting) but I really gotta get the hells outta Dodge. Where’s a bad man with a horse and a big sack of bills when you need one?
If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that I LOVE coffee. My life-long romance with black gold started back in high school when my dear friend T-Bone’s dad bought me a medium double-double from Tim Horton’s. Up to that point I’d never been a big fan of the stuff. But when I tasted that sweet, creamy goodness I knew I’d never look back.
During the Slimband pre-op diet (7 days) and the clear liquid stage (6 days) I couldn’t enjoy my favourite tasty beverage. I was allowed coffee during pre-op but it had to be blech, I mean black. My preferences changed as my love for the daily grind grew. I changed my order from the ditty little medium (295 ml) double-double to that of a large (415 ml) or XL (590 ml) triple-triple.
When I returned from England my preferences had changed again to milk rather than cream and Tim’s had added a fantastic treat to their very small menu: Iced Coffee.
I didn’t think I could love Tim’s more than I already did. It quickly became my daily dose. Surely, one could understand why my missing the good stuff for just 13 days was absolute torture.
So, on this sunny Sunday, I grabbed myself a large iced coffee made with milk and lots of ice. I wasn’t sure if my stomach was ready for it but I managed to finish the whole thing in no less than 3 hours. Yep, that’s right. I said 3 hours. What used to take me a quick 30 minutes now takes some time to get down. But GD it’s worth it!!
To the people I know and love, I’m overweight. To just about everyone else in the Western world I’m a fat girl. When I’m shopping in a store that couldn’t possibly stock my size, I’m a fat girl. When I’m shopping for a bra in one of Canada’s largest (and I don’t mean cup size) lingerie retailers, I’m a fat girl. When a stranger sees me chowing down a cereal bar in public, I’m a fat girl. When I’m eating right, working out, and actually losing some of the junk in my trunk, I’m a fat girl.
It doesn’t matter that I’m shopping in the skinny store for some stylish accessories or a fashionable gift for a friend. Or that there’s only a handful of lingerie stores in the country with holders to support my boulders. Or that I’m devouring said cereal bar in an effort to recover from my 3 times per week 2-hour torture session with my hot shot celebrity trainer. I’m still a fat girl.
But I’ve never been one to let my physical fitness level stop me from climbing to the top of the social ladder. Or hate myself for my big body’s imperfections. Quite the opposite really. I’ve always maintained a large social circle and my youth was lightly peppered with my fair share of beautiful boys despite my size. Perhaps it’s because I’ve always had a larger than life personality to complement my curvy configuration. Or perhaps it’s been the oh-so-pretty face I’ve been hearing about all my life.
I’m not entirely sure what it’s been because my “pretty face” never stopped the old ladies from sending a scoff in my direction whilst squeezing into the seat beside me. My “pretty face” never made it any easier for the crabby carnie to squeeze my sizeable derriere into the seats on the Behemoth. My “pretty face” never stopped the kids from mooing at me on the Underground. It seems my sizeable appearance has always bothered everyone else but me.
That being said, not a day goes by that I don’t feel a scratch from the green monster at the thought of my smaller sidekicks and their frequent shopping expeditions through NYC and LDN. Oh, what I’d give to visit a city and pound the pavement with my girls without having to investigate the whereabouts of the most conveniently located big girls boutique. Hmph.
So, where am I going with this? Well, after spending the better part of two decades living the larger life I’ve decided to do something drastic. On April 16th, 2010 I’m having weight-loss surgery at the Slimband clinic in downtown Toronto and I can’t wait!
Friday marks Day 1 of the Pre-Op diet. It’s super strict! It’s designed to defeat my addiction to the bad stuff and help me take my portion sizes from super size to mini meals in preparation for the big day.