Irrational Hates:


Fruit on the bottom yogurt.


I always manage to slop half the container on my pants
in a futile attempt to blend my yogurt effectively.
Mix that shit, Chobani.
I know you have it in you.

Symbolically Yours


I feel ya, little plant.

The orchid on my desk is dying.

If I were in a movie,
I’m sure one of the blossoms would fall off dramatically as I leave my office.
Indicating something about my age,
my failed attempts at having a career,

Do you ever have those days (years)
where you just know for a fact
that your job will never be doing what you love?

Family on Thursday Means:


Becca eats rabbit food until then.


I love my salad.

I love my salad.






When I was an overweight and squishy high-schooler,
I made promises to myself in the summertime that come September,
I would be skinny,
in shape,
able to share clothes with my Q-Tip sister.

“I did sit-ups and jumping jacks before bed!
If I keep this up, I’m going to be pretty!
Boys will pay attention to me!
I won’t be an outcast anymore!”

And I kept it up…
for about a week.

Then a new book that I was waiting for would come in at the library.
Or I was exhausted from riding my bike home in the late twilight
after a shift at McDonald’s.

And I’d forget.

September came around,
new clothes were purchased,
in a larger size than the year prior.

It never worked,
is what I’m saying.

I honestly don’t know how I finally lost weight after high school.

I think it was because of a college roommate whose family only ate organic food.
I went to her house,
a lovely place of refuge in the deserts of Palm Springs,
and I remember the food just tasted…so GOOD.

I left my parents’ house,
began buying my own food,
and, no longer being under the thumb of a curfew,
I began running late at night.

(I hated that running, by the way)

Got down to the weight that I am now.

I’ve kept it for six years,
with about five pounds of fluctuation either direction,
which puts me in the tiny percentile of folks for whom long-term weight loss actually worked.

It’s a healthy weight.

I am capable of doing quite a lot at my current fitness level.




I feel like I can do better still.

I’m working on creating a handbalancing performance with a friend for
Southern Faire this spring.
I am adamantly NOT in good enough shape for that right now.

And it’s hard.


Most of the women who do circus performance or serious partner acrobatics
weigh about 25 pounds less than I do.

I doubt that I will ever be able to lose that much weight without SERIOUSLY fucking up my (already) fucked up body and metabolism.

I need to be stronger.
More flexible.
Able to hold my own weight without flinching,
or putting all of it on my partner.

As a woman, when you’re not a tiny pixie person,
you have to make up for putting more weight on your partner.

I need my body to be better.


So I’m doing Crossfit style workouts every day.
Will start incorporating Tabata sprints.

Oh, and yoga, too.

Damn, I miss yoga.

I’m just tired of my body not doing what I want it to do.


Tonight’s workout:

3 rounds of:

25 squats
20 lunges
15 jumping jacks
10 handstands (supported or not)
5 pushups

And because I’m not COMPLETELY crazy,
1 sprint for 200 meters.


Amber Barlow Photography

Bad. Ass.

On the Difficulties of Restriction:


Which sounds way more hoity-toity than it actually is.

I went to a follow up appointment with my doctor,
and found out that nothing is Actually Wrong with Me.

My body is just being a dick.

All of my blood tests came back completely normal,
with a little bit of, “oh, you need more vitamin D,
and should probably take fish oil”.

So the being sick after eating at any restaurant,
the violent reaction to soy,
the struggling to keep salad down?

Ain’t no thing.


my doctor recommended that I go gluten-free for six months.

I’m currently trying it out for two weeks.


‘Coz here’s the bitch about eliminating an entire (and large!)
food group from my diet:

I’m recovering from a ten year eating disorder.
Restricting is a really bad plan.

And because,
my brain is broken when it comes to food,
my first reaction upon being told to go gluten-free
was to feel guilty about the food that I’ve been eating.

If I had been good,
I wouldn’t be sick.

If I had been eating less,
I wouldn’t be sick.

If I had stuck to a handful of almonds and a piece of fruit in the morning,
I wouldn’t be sick.

If I weren’t eating things like whole-grain english muffins,
I would be skinny.

In my brain,
she was telling me this because
I am a bad person.

(Welcome to the eating disordered mind, people.)

All of which makes just trying out gluten-free
a daunting task.

It’s not really because I think gluten-free bread tastes like a moldy paper cup.

It’s because I feel like I’ve been bad,
and if I hadn’t been,
I wouldn’t be dealing with this.

It sucks.


ps (And? No more saltines when I’m sick? *tears*)

Food? Shoes?


My body has one of two primary reactions when it gets depressed:

1) It wants to eat everything in the world
(mostly gummi bears),

2) It wants to buy shoes.

The truly terrible issue at hand is that July has been hella’spensive,
and consequently, I can’t really justify the shopping.

I also managed to lose a teensy bit of weight,
and I don’t want to jeopardize that by going on a calorie binge.
(No Sense of Proportion Girl, at your service)

what do YOU do to fight the Black Dog
when money is tight and you don’t want your belt to do the same?


Help me out, kids,
‘coz this shit is looking reaaaally appealing right now:




I love everything about this shoe. ......I might make out with it.




Got to try these on. Almost "accidentally" walked out with them. Oopsie.


Shop 'till you drop into a bag of overpriced shiny pretty things made by a blue-haired gay guy. Because that will make everything better.

Cry the Woman:

“I have nothing to WEAR!!!”


I have a *couple* of things.

The trouble is,
my closet was jeeest starting to undergo
a good and welcome change from “I’m-a-teacher-and-I-don’t-like-my-life”
and “I work for a company whose dress code is ‘Cover Your Vitals'”
to “Hey, maybe I should dress for the job I want “.

And then I lost my job.

And, you know,
groceries became a little more important than revamping my
(sad sack)

But oh,
how I want to go shopping again.

I blame all the pretty fashion bloggers I follow.

(Chloe, Tara, I am SO looking at you)

In light of that, then,
I decided to at least create a virtual wishlist/wardrobe of prettypretties
that maybe someday I’ll be able to wear:

(all in the name of stimulating the economy, understand!)

(because that’s obviously what we’re all thinking about in Anthropologie)

I tried this pretty baby on yesternight--fits like a DREAM, and the color is clearly made for me.

I have a funny feeling that this will be the dress that gets away from me. *sigh*

Working Wear

Working Wear by littlebrave featuring gold earrings

Cropped pants I like pretending I can wear.

Cropped pants I like pretending I can wear. by littlebrave featuring disc earrings

Pretty Lemon Skirt

Pretty Lemon Skirt by littlebrave featuring a silk ruffle blouse

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