Last Post of 2023

Property of Stormberry

 I'm finishing this year with:

1. A lot of plans for the next year,
2. Resolve to endure to get much closer to my goals throughout 2024,
3. COVID-19 for the first time in my life.

Yep, that last one is quite a thing. For me. I came down with what I thought was "flu" on Christmas day, but it wasn't until two days later, upon the insistence of my mother (she suspected it could be COVID), that I took the test (there was one kit at home) that I realized I, indeed, had COVID. Oh goodie. I managed to avoid it for three years, but in the end I became a member of the club.

I guess I have this new Eris variant, but if you ask me, it feels exactly the way flu feels like. The first two days were horrid, and now I'm stuck with the Runny-Nose-From-Hell. I'm pretty sure I've blown my weight in snot out of my nose by now. Isn't that lovely?

The advance on the thesis front is really slow, as the current task isn't very inspiring and quite time consuming. But it is, nontheless, moving forward. I just really hope I can finish it this year, as I'm aiming for that in one of my New Year Resolutions. I just want to be over with it, so I can start working on getting a PhD.

Both the MSc as the PhD are a matter of personal goals, and not a professional goal, as my current job hardly even recognized the actual work I do, much less my preparation I have for it, so the extra degrees are simply a way for me to accumulate and explore new knowledge. What can I say? Some people colect stuff, others like travel, others rather party or date or have sex, and I like knowledge. Now, this doesn't mean that I only read serious, scientific or philosophical things, as nothing could be farther from reality. I like stories, and my favoured type of readings are novels. I guess I like knowledge because I like the stories that come within the knowledge I seek: economics (my favored area) are full of stories.

I can't blame COVID for the slowing of the progress of my thesis, but I do intend to use the days of vacation (of which half is already gone) to work on it, and present my tutor with something of an advanced improvement by the begining of next year. I really need to get going, get all this small details hammered out so I can go on with the story behind my research: innovation policy's effect on labor.

By the end of this year I've made a couple of big decisions looking forward to 2024. I paid in advance the whole year at a gym, and so I intend so go, at least twice a week, to get in better shape. With that in mind I also ordered a new fitbit to keep myself motivated to exercise. My weight has been going up and I moved into the overweight zone, so I have to start making changes to get back to the normal weight, not only because that's healthier, but also because I want to fit back in my clothes again. It would be just too expensive to change my whole closet. And I like a lot of my clothes, so why change them?

Every year I also tend to make big budget plans to rid myself of debt - inspired mostly by the incredible success I had in 2011 when I whipped out  a staggering debt by the sheer power of my determination - and this year I have made that same decision with a small added trick: a more detailed plan and an actual commitment to get it done. I have two debts: the credit card and the loan from the FGA. The FGA loan works down in a constant fashion, but the credit card debt fluctuates as here and there I find myself in need of using the card. After much thinking I realized that the trigger for my card is always the same: vet expenses.

I've changed vets last year, as our old vet has become hideous with cats. The new vet is a place that actually specializes in cats, but I have been noticing that - under the guise of worry and care - they have been pumping out loads of money from me (my card, to be precise) for a lot of check ups and test my babies probably don't need. One of my cats -Woody - has costed me a fortune with citologies and a biopsy of an unhealing nose problem. It turns out that he has feline AIDS and on top of that a very serious skin cancer. The outlook for him is bleak and his chances to get cured are minimal, yet the vet was pushing for an appointoment with an oncologist and maybe start a chemotherapy treatment. That's where I hit the breaks. Goodness, no. I won't run myself into debt to torture my cat and make his last days a living hell.

I've decided to limit the vet visits to vaccines and that will be that. And to kill my credit card. So I sat down, mapped up all my forseeable expenses and laid out a detailed fortnight by forthnight plan. It came out quite a strick one, with nearly no wiggle room, but certainly one that needs to be implemented.

Something we sometimes forget to see is our own reality. By turning a blind eye, by not making a plan, not looking at our balance, we try to pretend that things are much better, much easier, or running much better than they are. I did not delude myself, these are my expenses, these are the things I spend on, and my only "wiggle room" are my groceries, where sometimes I run amok packing up the cart with things I end up throwing out as they rot on my shelves or my fridge (my waste basket eats more veggies than I do).

2024 is a year for me to take a hard look at things, work for my goals, carve a path for the future I want from here on and get on with the program. It's not going to be easy, I know that, but it's nothing I can't deal with. I have proven myself time and again that I can adapt and I can flourish in any situation. I am resilient, creative and I can stick to my own plans with astonishing stubbornness, as my recent Mock Lottery Project showed me this year. If I want it, I can make it happen, and I will make it happen.

2024 will be the year I'll step on the gas on to reach my goal to become the Aunt March of my story.

Body Image and Love

A topic I had in mind when I wrote my last post - but didn't touch - was body image and how that body image affects us. A writer I follow on Goodreads shared a post about how she has always felt about how her body image affected her for quite a long time, reaching into her self esteem. This got me thinking. Indeed, since we are born with a body and live with it through our whole life, often we see our bodies as it is us, and whatever happens to our bodies affects our selves as well. If we are good looking, then we - the whole of us - is desirable, but if there is something we consider a "flaw", then the flaw is also within us. Separating our body from our selves is nearly impossible to a lot of people, even though we are bombarded constantly with messages that tell us that we are two separate things. I mean, think about it, how many times have we heard all that stuff about "inner beauty" and how "the exterior doesn't matter" and so on?

I guess it's normal to see your body and yourself as the same thing, and so when something about our bodies doesn't please us, we feel also displeased with ourselves. It adds to this negatively when we are also bombarded with estereotypes and ideas about what the body should look like, and often these ideas create artificial discomforts in us. Wherever we look we are shown bodies of models that most of us don't have, and which can't be reached by many. This is where pseudo-positive messages (like those images shown so often on Facebook and shared by many) try to convince us that we are good the way we are and that we must accept our bodies the way we are.

The way I see it, we are bombarded with two negative messages. On one side we are told that we have to be tall, sickly thin, young and supermodelish. On the other side we are told that we must accept and do nothing. I've been average all my life. I was thin when I was a kid, but after puberty I've got an average body shape, with which for a time I wasn't happy because it wasn't as thin as I was told I should be. Then I was lucky enough to realize that I was good the way I was and felt happy. Through the years I gained some weight and though I was still happy, it was becoming displeased about not fitting in my clothes. A physician had told me that my weight wasn't healthy, but I didn't listen to him until I realized that either I started losing weight or I'd have to buy a whole closet again. I had tried for years to lose weight, get my old weight back, but it never worked, so not really believing anything could really be done, I went to the nutritionist and started my regime. And I lost weight.

What I learned was that though we can't always separate our body image from our self image, we must start realizing that the body is the body and the self is the self. Yes, we must come to terms with our body and the body we have, but if there is something we don't like about it, and it can be changed, hey, don't conform and change it! Maybe it won't work if you try doing it yourself, but look for a professional to help you. Be it losing weight or gaining muscles or learning to make up yourself, or having a great hair... whatever it might be, if there's a chance to change it and you'd like to change it, don't settle, do something! It's all up to you. And if it doesn't work at first, keep trying until it works. :-)

Your body image can do a lot of harm to you, if you let it, so remember that whatever there is that you don't like, you can always work with it. Love isn't about being perfect nor can you trick yourself into accepting something you are not comfortable with. I don't think love is about accepting if you see this acceptance and resignation. Love is about being happy, and you can be happy when you are comfortable, and you can be confortable when you are at ease with yourself. If there is something you don't like about yourself, think why that might be displeasing or not, and whether changing it is the solution. Use also health as paramether. Make sure your body is healthy, and then, fuck the body and do what pleases you. ^_^

Reaching My Ideal Weight

This week something incredible happened to me. I actually didn't expect this to happen - so soon at least -  but now I'm here: after some 16 months I've reached my ideal weight. Wow! That's like... mindblowing! I mean, yes, of course, that was the point of going to the nutritionist and suffering through the Hell Weeks and all those regimes, and then dictating my meals by carefully measured monthly plans, but then, when you arrive to the result... How can I tell you this? I certainly don't look like a runway model or anything, but now I look at my body and think: fuck bitch, we are so freaking hot! I fit again in jeans I couldn't put on a year ago, and I'm parading a body with a weight I haven't had in fifteen years! My confidence is again up high but I'm also being careful and watching what I eat, scouting already for options to exercise since the programm at the Metropolitan Park I've been attenting will be suspending activities shortly, hopefully to resume them next year.

To give you a little idea of my progress, in 16 months I've lost about 25 pounds or a bit over 11 kgs, and my measurements went down in total 41 cms or 16 inches. In those 16 months I also learned about healthy eating, laying down carbonated drinks and invite veggies to my plate, and to keep all my meals instead of skipping them and eating whatever whenever I came about it. In those 16 months I also learned discipline to exercise, and though I've been slacking big time with archery - a combination of lack of time due to the unversity and sometimes just not feeling like doing it - I've been careful to make sure and put some 30 minutes of cardio in my daily routine.

I've learned that eating healthy doesn't mean to stop eating, or declaring war on carbs, or embracing the veggan lifestyle, or eating kale or whatever other fashionable veggie or fruit like crazy. Being healthy isn't either a cult to water drinking or weird stuff like that. Eathing heathy is finding the right balance for your body, learning that you need everything: carbs, proteins, dairy, veggies, fruits and fats, and also that you need to move your body, find those moments when you can squeeze in a little bit of exercise. Just to give you an idea, my day is packed and I tend to be really tired by the time I finish at the office. Sometimes I manage to go to the gym, where I have to drive, but some others I don't. Sometimes I have to come home and work on a project for the University, or I meet up with friends. What I do is that I wake up 30 or 40 minutes earlier and use an old elliptic machine we have here and then do some ab work.

Other times, when I'm meeting my friends close to my gym, I drive to the gym, do my routine and then meet them. The gym is a great way to spend your time while waiting, instead of shopping or sitting at a café stuffing your face with sweets, for instance.

I've reached my ideal weight and I'm very happy, but my work isn't over. I still have to work on lowering my  body fat - which is at a good level, but could be better - and then I'd like to lose a bit more of weight - under the supervision of my nutritionist! - and aim for a fitter body. :-) Now I can aim for a bit of muscles.

This journey has been amazing, but it's not over yet. I have new goals now and I'm full of hope and enthusiasm about succeeding in this. And I think this should be celebrated. ^_^

My Week

I don'thave a specific topic for today to talk to you about, so I'll simply go on rambling about my week. Is that ok? Well, I hope so, because that's what you are going to get.

This week I had my monthly appointment with my nutritionist, and my results were rather good. I'm not entirely trusting those numbers, since last week was hell week, and I tend to gain back some weight after hell week, ut I guess we shall see about that next month. As I stand right now, I'm only 2 kg (about 4 pounds) from my ideal weight. I'm already in the good zone, mind you, with a good body mass index and healthy percentage of fat on my frame, but he nutritionist says it's better to bring it to this ideal weight, so I can keep it easier. I've been thinking about it, and told her that once I get to this ideal weight, I'd like to consider to push it a little lower, since the hormonal change at 40 is coming close, and I'd like to have room for changes. I told her about my goal and she found it reasonable. However, we shall see how I do n getting to the ideal weight first and then we'll talk about bringing my body mass index to 20.

This month I don't have any crazy plans to adhere to. No hell weeks, no shake-days, just regular diet. And should work a little bit more on my exercise. I've been taking a little bit more seriously my beauty regime, keeping up the facial program I made for myself, and doing that annoying rutine of facial care in the morning and in at night, which has me considering rescheduling my waking hours, so maybe I can get to the office in time to get a good spot at the parking lot. Hell, it's taking me up to 20 more minutes to get ready just because I need to do my face! And I'm not even wearing make up! It's so much time. Yes,of  course there are results, like a much rested look, softer skin, more even tone, but still, I have to get used to the time it demands to do so much for your face. And well, I must admit that I like those minutes of pampering, they feel good. :-) So yes, I bitch about it now, but it's not so bad, just a matter of readjusting my schedule to fit all my new activities in.

The plan also has the advantage that it pushes me to keep up my gym appointments, since I only have two days open to go to the gym - either way, at the gym I go, you can only schedule two appointments a week - so I make my best to take them and use them. Also came recently to flirt with the idea of joining a free zumba classes at our Metropolitan Park.

To be honest, I do see the changes on my body, and I do feel them as well. I guess this is what's pushing me to do more. Hey, I gave up weight, I'm being more active, why not see if I can improve other areas as well?

Yesterday we had our second class at the Graduation Accounting Seminar, and honestly, I'm quite pleased with the teacher. This time around our team has been slacking a tad, but I'm sure we will soon pick up the pace and make things work. We had to take in another member, which our coordinator, Adry, didn't want, but we were told that we either brought up our team members to 4 or we wouldn't graduate. A team was dismembered, since they didn't have a company to work with, so I was quick to pick the one of them that seemed to be the best, a girl named Aracelly. I don't care if I came out looking rude to the other guy, we had a bad experience already in the last Seminar, so I rather pick the strongest of the lot. We met today via Skype and organized our work, decided on internal deadlines, and are now off to do our part. I'm dealing with the Methodology chapter. I picked that one, since I did it for the past Seminar and did a darn good job out of it. :-)  Personally, I consider this chapter to be stupid. I don't get why a thesis (in the end we make a thesis) must devote a chapter to explaining the research approach one uses to dothe job. Fuck, that should be selfexplanatory, doesn't it? What matters is the processing of the information, not all the academic crap about whether we are going qualitative or quantitative, exploratory or explanatory... but I'll do it, since I have those terms and stuff fresher in my head, and I'm organized enough to see the whole concept through. And I'm good at it, mind you.

I'm reading currently the last book of the Millenium trilogy, by Stieg Larsson. I liked the first book, but not so much the second. This third one is getting on my good graces. We shall see how it ends, though. Great books can be completely fucked up with a bad ending.

I'm also working on my smashbook for Carrie, which is taking quite some time. I don't get it, I was able to work on two within a year and send them to my friends, but then I can't seem to be able to finish one in over a year and a half. It's amazing. And it's not like such a big production either! Well, I do go changing layouts, and have printed out and cut out far more pictures that what I'll use at all, but still, that's not the point. The point is that it's taking me a freaking lot of time, and I'm about to ask for another deadline to get it done. Have I tackled more for this that what I can handle; Nah, I refuse to believe that. I've to complete ten more spreads, all of them already planned out, though I'm considering - again - to change some, replace them for other topics I like better currently, and then add some special stuff... if I can pull that. It's going to be cool, and I hope Carrie will like it, specially because I'm busting my ass here doing them for her.

Work is going on as usual. I'm disappointed by a lot of the stuff that's going on, and would even say that I'm heartbroken about it. It's really bad when someone you admired let's you down and shows you they are no better than the incompetent, slime, corrupt bastards you despise so much. It's tiresome to go around, looking ahead of you.

Hell Week

After a month with shake-days, February was my "go back to food with vengeance" month, which ended up making me gain some weight. Not too much, but enough to make my nutritionist decide to put me on a special diet program, which I call "hell week". And hell week starts today.

Hell Week is about a whole week of planned meals, and by "planned" I mean specifically planned. Not like so far where I only had general directions like "2 carbs, 2 proteins, 2 veggies" and so on, but a specific composition of things, such as 60 grs of chicken and 1 cup of tomato salad. It's not really - so far - a diet that makes me hungry, but what I don't like very much is the fact that I can't eat whatever I want, but I have to eat specific stuff. For a whole week. Hn... I wonder how will this end up. Oh well, we will see in a week.

Control your Stress

All my bad luck peaked up today, and I hope it's going to fall back and down and turn around and become good luck from now on. I woke up dreading the office and feeling already upset, so I tried to concentrate on positive thoughts. However, on my way to the office I've got hit by a bus from behind. It was the bus' fault, and thanks the Good Lord there wasn't any big damage done. My tail lights' covering plastic thingies got busted and my trunk now actually fits tighter. However I've got all sad and teary eyed, so the bus drived actually tried to talk me into believing it was my fault. Yeah, because it was my fault he wouldn't slow down. Anyway, I was thinking about getting to the office in time, so since there was no major damage we decided not to pursue things further and we left. Yes, I know, I shouldn't have, but I was so upset, and the accident brought back all the stress I had successfully pushed back in the morning, that I wasn't going to stay there for an hour and bawl like a baby.

So, I've got to the office, but I could feel that I was going to burst in tears anytime, so - knowing myself well, after the cases of anxiety attacks I've suffered years ago - I rushed to the work doc's and got an appointment with him to get fixed. Yes, I mean "that" by fixed, thank you. Can't afford not working, for there are a lot of things to be done. When I've got called for my appointment (you first gara make a line to get an appointment, because for over 1000 workers we only have one doctor who works only half a day), the nurse took me through the procedure taking my blood pressure and asking me why was I there. My pressure was high - and for someone with a naturally low pressure, it was REALLY high - and it scared me. I actually asked the nurse to take my pressure again, because it had to be wrong, but she refused, saying that it was still ok. Then, when I told her that I was stressed out - and nearly choked with speaking, getting teary - she actually had the nerve to tell me: "Well, you can't continue like that, you have to take control of yourself". I was flabbergasted! So you are stressed out - because it happens - and you are anxious because the world around you is a chaos, you are in the place where you currently hate the most to be, fearing whatever may come from the crazy above, and you have to "take control of yourself"? What's next? Telling someone who broke his leg to walk it off?

If you have had anxiety attacks in the past, you know well that getting over them isn't as easy as butching up after you broke your nail or you fell on your face. And if you have had a couple - as sadly I had - then you also learn to recognize the symptoms, do not underestimate them and act quick on them. Anyway that's me making sure not to go bonkers in the less fit of places, and run to keep the kraken under control, and there comes someone who should know better and tells you to "learn to suck it up". Is this the kind of professionals we are getting today? It seems so.

The doc was much nicer and much more aware of the situation (he actually read my file before passing judgment), listened to me patiently, made the right questions and refered me to professional help, and wrote me a recipe for little helpers.

I know there are cases were people make a storm in a glass of water, but a professional in health should know better than avising self-restrain when what's in order is professional help. You know, they make happy pills, ups and downers for a reason.

Ah, the jerk!

A Good Day to Stay In Bed

Here goes a piece of information that you don't need in your life, but it's killing me currently: oh happy day, I've got my period. Yupi. Oh joy. It's freaking killing me. The bitch has grown again stronger than painkillers, so this means I'm suffering through half a day of monstruos cramps. I hate them. I hate them to hell. Why couldn't I be born a guy? Why didn't God hit men with this freaking curse too? What is taking menopause so long? Have you heard about PMS? Well, I can't afford it. Pain is so freaking bad with it's coming and going, waving in intensity but never leaving that it doesn't give me a break long enough to be emotional, or cranky or crazy (more than normal). I sure feel like I could slaughter whatever size population right now, and dying wouldn't be a problem for me. I mean, just imagine death: no pain. Doesn't that sounds like bliss?

When nearly paper white with pain (I've gone into that state once), the reaction of men is what I love the most. Since they have no idea what the hell does cramps feel like, usually stay silent, eyes wide and slowly back away with a look of "oh hell, this is going to release the Krakken anytime now!". It's not funny when you get the sympathetic "Honey, I'd take it over from you if I could". Brave words when you can't! But silence is nice. Them being prone to rush to a drugstore for you and maybe even hold a gun to the pharmacist's head to get them to release morphin for us, is nice. No, no guy has ever gotten me morphin or any prescription drug by force, or by any other way. But their readiness to rush and take over chores and make your day much easier. 

What I don't like is the reaction of some women. "Oh, that's nothing!" and "Well, it means you could get pregnant", or "Look at the bright side! You are not pregnant" and "You should be happy. You are not too old yet". What the fuck?? It's my freaking womb hurting, not yours! And who said I want to get pregnant? And I don't need a fucking period to tell me that I'm not pregnant! I'm not a teenager having sex without protection! And what's that "too old" crap? I'm not desperate to remain "in my prime" so that I can either catch a husband or keep the one I have at my side? Oh yes, and please save me that stupid shit of "well, you say NOW that you don't want children, but think of this: while you have your period, you still have a chance to get a child". Oh goodie. Suffering pains are a reminder that I'm not out of the tunnel yet, and morons who can't respect the adult decision of a childfree person use it to preach about having babies.

Okay, yes. MAYBE I'm PMS-ing right now. Then I'm the violent type, the murderous type. Clear out the premises.

And on top of all... CRAPPY tampons!!

Some call it "hormones", but is it hormones? Because I'm honestly reacting to pain. Once the pain subsides (the light of my day), I'm back to normal. And being back to normal is sooo good! When you have the right tampons, otherwise is also a pain in the ass as you spend all day worrying about leaks. Hell, that's like a going back to high school! Who wants that?

Anyway, I'm finishing here for today, as I can see myself starting to babble aimlessly.

On "Nasty" Woman Issues

Recently I had my "first" period in Costa Rica. It was a nightmare. You see, when I started having my period, I started using pads - like most girls who are still afraid of their bodies - which were uncomfortable, and which not once failed to properly do what's supposed to do, but thanks Hyne back then it was fashionable to wear your jersey tied to your waist. All the way to about after my first year at university... sometime around 20, I switched to tampons.

The first time I heard about tampons it was at 17, when I was attending my first year at University. since this happened in Costa Rica, the tampons I've got to see were the ones that come with an applicator, which are basically two tubes made out of plastic or paper that slid into each other much like a shot needle. I didn't start using those because I wasn't comfortable around them, had lots of questions and honestly, didn't want to spend my most painful an messy hours trying to figure out the workings and mechanics of a damned tampon.

Eventually - around two years later - I started using tampons... in Hungary, where tampons don't come with applicators. It was scary, and the first time around it was uncomfortable as hell, but eventually I worked it out and realized how much more comfortable and better working it was. So I switched and remained that way. With time I came back to live to Costa Rica, and devoted my time to hunt down tampons with no applicators. This was quite a feat, as in such a Catholic country it seems nearly scandalous to sell a product that "invites" women to stick their fingers inside themselves. You could find them from time to time at high end stores, but it was still hard to get, which is why at the end I started using my trips to Hungary to pack up on tampons. For the last... ten years maybe, I never used tampons that weren't sold in Europe, so this time around, when I totally forgot to pack up on tampons, I had to make due with what's available in Costa Rica, and this time around I couldn't find the type of tampons I like. So I had to go on the applicator ones.

First of all, the tampon itself was terrible. Too thin, too long an the ends weren's sealed well, and to top it all, it didn't expand well so it leaked. Putting it on was also a hassle, as the applicators are stiff an don't allow you to comfortably place the tampon inside, adjusting to the natural form of your body. Your finger slides gently and follows your contours, but a piece of rigid plastic or paper doesn't bend.

While struggling with this uncomfortable tampons during a period of time when I REALLY want no added complications in my daily routine, the tought came to me as to why are our choices reduced so, why is our comfort diminished because of prudish ideas? How come there's a whole society telling us, every single, individual women living in it, what part of ourselves can we touch, when can we touch it, or which parts can we never touch? Why do we allow this?

Matters of health, matters of comfort should be up to us to decide, without interfeering of third parties, without others telling us that our comfort or our body is forbidden, shamefull or dirty. We are people, women, and we shouldn't feel wrong for trying to feel better. We don't have to be forced to be statues, emulate virgin goddesses, and video clip temptresses, always playing both the part of the sexy femme fatale and the lady, and never being simply people. Lets take things in our hands, let's reclaim our bodies, our rights and cast away stupid fears and ideas.

I'll continue searching, and I hope to see soon the shelves of our stores lined up with products that remember that only women can decide which part of their body will they touch, when and when is someone else allowed to touch it as well. Women, by themselves, over their own bodies, and not third parties.

The Truth About The Body

One of the most common comments often heard among girlfriends is "I'm too fat". This sentence - often really off mark because our girlfriends have rather beautiful bodies - comes with a charged, negative meaning. It says also "I'm ugly", "I don't deserve to be loved, even if I'd love to", and what's worse "I hate myself". Why do we lash ourselves? And why do we take distorted perceptions, shallow measurements to judge ourselves? The influence of the media could be one reason, the propaganda about the sickly thin body as the only one acceptable, and then the message infused in it, that the only way you can be happy, successful and loved is if you have a body just as deteriorated and sick as the one of the models. However, why do we listen to it? Why do we let it affect us?

In real life, none of us are actually as ugly or as fat as we think we are, and often one of the reasons for us to feel that way comes from the way we dress or think we should dress. Our clothes - fashionable or not - create an illusion about us, and the way our body beneath it is. The common idea that black makes you look thin, horizontal stripes make you look fat or that clothes one size smaller would compress your body and make you look thinner, are some of the reasons why we often look and feel fat, even if we are not. Maybe you feel like you must be a size 0 even if you are a size 10, so you punish yourself, follow all kinds of restrictive diets, maybe even work out, and on top of that wear clothes that barely fit you, hating then yourself for the lumps and rolls the inadecuate clothes create on your body. We have come to the point where we act liek it's our body the one that should fit the clothes, and not the clothes fit the dress. We allow fashion to overpower us, and we act like it's us who should fit the fashion, and not the fashion fitting to us.

Please, take a moment the next time you take a shower, and look at your naked body. If you dare (and have a big mirror) you'll realize that your body - in  its natural form - is beautiful. It may have no rolls, no lumps, has pretty curves and nice proportions. Why don't we dress it to accentuate its natural beauty? Why to we seek to transform it into something that's not what it is? Try it out. Get yourself comfortable underwear - in case you are a woman, get a good bra, that makes a world of difference, and when you try them out, always pull on top of the bra your shirt, so you can see who does it look, how will it make you look when you are fully dressed! - and look for clothes that are good on you. Nothing that squeezes you, nothing that creates rolls and lumps, only stuff that flow with your body. You'll be amazed at the difference it makes.

Lines Out of Nowhere

I'm working on a book meme my friend Patricia posted on her blog. Third day on a row and I'm nowhere near to complete it. Some questions are harder than others. For instance, it asks you to post an image of your favorite book covers, and though I've often chosen books based on their covers (it's the first thing that attracts your eye to unknown books), I realized that I don't have any favorite book covers, in fact I can hardly remember the covers of my books. It's like once I open the book, my memories are all about the content, and I quickly forget about the cover and my impressions of it, except to recall the book itself briefly.

I've gained weight, so I went back to jogging, which I had neglected due to weather and general laziness, and also have been drinking more water, but can't keep myself from eating all the nice things you can get your hands and mouth on, on this side of the Atlantic. Hell, it's AMAZING to be in Europe. However things might change, and I might find myself back in Costa Rica in a couple of months, so my mind is already adjusting to the possibility - the very possible possibility - and from a question in the letter of a penpal of mine, my mind has gone back to the thesis, and a few questions and matters I'd like to work out related to it, which could only be addressed if there. And I think, "Boy, I shouldn't have eaten those pita breads with hummus... though I made the hummus and it was packed with garlic and it tastes so good! I'm not losing weight this way... but since when am I so concerned about weight? Oh yes, since I look pretty much the same, but the table of measurements says I'm already in 'Overweight 1'. Shouldn't I actuall be fat to be in 'overweight 1'?" Life is full of mysteries. Oh well, weight gained can be worked off too, right? At least I hope I can... If a box of Jack Daniels' Fudge doesn't keep me from the straight and narrow. Evidently one piece of candy, some peanuts and pita bread with olive oil and hummus have more power than two hours of jogging every day.

I also think about the test I almost certainly flunked on Monday. I come time and again to a contract I had to check, and wonder why I didn't state clearly all I though about it, why didn't I start with that one and got it through and through... and then I realize that 1. I'm so meticulous I couldn't finish reading a contract in an hour unless it's a one page contract, for I'm the type of person who would cross reference every word and re read it stare at it like at a magical 3D dimension until I see as many hidden designs as I can, and 2. because if I said all I thought about it, not only would I've surely flunked the test (as I'm sure I did), but also earned being excomunicated for probably going against their policies and basically telling them in their face how idiotically naive they could be if they actually think that's anything other than a stupid mockery worded up by a junky floating on a cloud of acid... just like I do at work (the Lord knows why he didn't make me a lawyer, I would probably start every single contract my belittling the Law and including a much better elaborated Bill).

Thoughts keep roaming all over inside the infinite depths of my skull. I think of the Korean series I'm watching. Thanks to the set top box, I don't have to be here to see it on real time, but I can record it and watch it when it's convenient to me. The series ended today, and I know how it ended for I read the summary weeks ago. However I'm still four episodes behind. Still a couple of hours of the series to see, but then what? What will I watch when it is over? I checked the channel to see what will be shown at the time the series were scheduled, but they've filled the void with junk shows. Fortune tellers on TV doing their two-cent shows, calling people out, inviting them to call them for a reading, a charm or a circus trick, promising them always the same "money, now, but only now, only today", and forgetting to mention that the call has a raised toll. So what after? I haven't figure that out yet, but will find something to amuse myself from the box.

I pull the letters of my penpals - now they accumulate less than back in Costa Rica, where my job often tired me so much I returned home wanting only to fall on my bed, and stare dumbly at the tv, and fall asleep listening to The Simpsons, Futurama or any other weird thing I wouldn't watch in posession of my senses. Now I have the time, and I use it well. Now I want to stretch my letters. I'm one letter away, only one letter... what will happen when I reply to it? How much will I have to wait to have another letter to reply?

And the thoughts continue to travel, up and down the electrical connections of my neurones, playing all sorts to connecting games, jumping from Scarlett O'Hara's green dress and the burning desire that often traps me to leave everything and continue reading Gone With The Wind, to blogging and what will I blog about today, to "Oh, there's the book meme of Patricia", and from there the book I'm reading right not not on my Kindle - because Gone With The Wind is in my beloved Kindle -, which is a book by Jo Nesbo, to how much I want to read any of the books I've recently gotten about the life of Empress Sissi, to the life of her son Rudolph, to how I want to end reading View Finder, to the books on witchcraft anf witch hunts and Medieval history I want to read too, to... how I'd love to have a decent sized bath and take a long, hot bath with lots of bubbles, surrounded by candles and delicious scents, with some soft music... perhaps Strauss, and stink in there with a book or my Kindle and a glass of my favorite type of wine... that wine.

And that takes me to remember all those forbiden things that should never be mentioned, that perhaps should have never happened, but as they happened I'd never regret them and which I love, and which I cherish, which have changed me radically, and which make me tremble thinking that they could have never happened. That fragile fire butterfly that was cupped between four hands.

And that takes me to here and there, to my favorite cities in the world. Vienna and the desire to go to a concert of classical music, Paris and the wish to go to the Opera... spend another moment envelopped in the eternal, mystical magic of Sacré Coeur.

And sacred takes me to the wonder of Mother Nature, to Spring, to the Margit Island and my jogging, and we are back to weight, to food, to delicious cakes, to my penpals who love them, to one who might visit me in Budapest... and that to Budapest, to the test, to going back to Costa Rica, to the thesis... and here I'm back to plotting an planning my life again there.

One day, and my thoughts run in circles, over and over, as it starts again, and I'm rendered paralized, unable to take a book or write a letter, or blog, or do the laundry or check an e-mail... until I forcefully break the circle, pick on, do one... laundry, lunch, watch the Koreans, reply to my penpal, blog... but I know, where I to touch a book or my Kindle, and I would be lost for the world.

Books are such powerful tools to the mind...

Dreams From Common Cold

Right on Saturday both my boyfriend and my brother caught a cold. Nothing serious, just your regular, common, annoying cold. Head hurts, limbs hurt, feel like crap, throat hurts, get fever, runny nose... you know, the usual drill. It doesn't matter then what can you get at your local pharmacy, or the different home remedies you can prepare - from the strong lemonade, and the ginger syrup to the warm milk with honey and oregano (this one for sure throat, actually), nothing helps you get over the cold better than staying in bed, under the covers and sweating the sickness out. My brother was staying at my aunt's place, quite all on his own, though he was regularly looked after by my aunt, which eased a bit my share of worries, and could concentrate on pampering my boyfriend back to health. Today I already woke up with a sore throat. Dammit.

I'm currently not working, but I still couldn't yet afford to stay in bed all day. I had errands to run, places to go, lunch to fix, among other things. Apparently, had also a boyfriend to torture --- I guess that after pampering him so much and him thinking he was now above washing dishes, I felt like picking on him and maybe picked on him too much. No hard feelings, though!

However, this got me thinking on the times when I was in Costa Rica and though I had to go and work, I set a weekend for "cure", and how good that was. Yes, good. Cold is a nasty sickness, but it's not as terrible - in my opinion and after many, many cases of cold survived - as could be other sicknesses. Then basically only the first day or first few days is terrible, then the rest is simply annoying while your nose runs and you can't breath properly. However, that first day or those first days, if you have the chance to stay in bed, it can be quite nice.

Clad in your pajamas or any really comfy clothes, you stay in bed, but arrange your whole world around it. I always had my trusty and beloved netbook with me (then again, I ALWAYS have my beloved netbook with me), and piled up on the nightstand a "care basket" for myself full of my favorite candies, snacks, drinks and plenty of remedies - both home cold remedies and pharmacy remedies.  It was uncomfortable as you sweated like a pig, but at the same time it felt nice to have a "valid excuse" to stay all day in bed watching TV, sleeping, surfing the net and reading books and magazines. Hell, you already feel like crap, so why can't you just make something to feel better?

In my experience the toughest part of the cold can be drastically reduced if you can cure yourself with staying in bed for a day. If impossible, if you catch the cold at the begining of your workweek, at least try to get into bed as soon as possible, take a hot bath, rub yourself with selfheating gels and creams, wear warm pajamas and pull the cover up under your chin. Give yourself a break, pull out all of those fashion magazines, or National Geographic magazines you meant to read but never got around to. Pick that amazing, thick book from the shelve and take it with you.

I may just do that tomorrow, declare myself in need of cure (specially since we are going to Vienna on Thursday), and stay in bed all day long, surround myself with my many thick magazines and my books and kindle, and let myself be pampered. Stay in bed, stay warm and be happy while I get to be healthy again. Only on question in left regarding this: if we are willing to let ourselves be happy, relax and enjoy a day or two of doing absolutely nothing, while being sick, why can't we allow ourselves to enjoy the same when we are healthy? It might be a social thing, we might be actually under the influence of many generations of pressure telling us that doing nothing is not decent (though strangely doing nothing at works seems to be perfectly fine for a large part of the working population), and so the sole idea of enjoying ourself while not suffering for the rest of the world is nearly obscene to us. So break away from it, and the next time you get a cold, take the opportunity to lounge a little at home, try it out, dare to feel good while your sickness is rested away from you. Dare to arrange things to your comfort, TV at bed, all your favorites, and everything at hands reach. Try it out and then consider trying it out also on a day you are healthy.

For now, I'm leaving. I have a hot drink to fix for myself, a bed to pull out and a day of comfort to arrange.

Margit Island

Today was my first day at jogging, and truth to be told, I loved it. ^_^ I woke up early - quite early as today I also planned to go to the church -, put on my snikers, my regular exercise clothes, set my fit bit and went out to jog, and try to run a little. Well, in case you wonder, I did run a little, like some 200 meters.

The day was frankly beautiful, and I was overwhelmed by the sense of security the whole city gave me. Inspite of the buildings, the streets and the modern artifacts, the tramway rails and the traffic lights, this part of the city was soaked in a deep sense of nature. Trees swinging their branches in the wind quite gingerly, with a studied elegance that has grown second nature in them after ages and ages of practicing, birds singing and slowing colors and feathers like I've never seen before. It was a day too beautiful to stay inside, to deny any soul from the graceful touch of nature. Thus, even though I didn't jog much, I had a path planned, through the Florian square up the Árpád bridge to the Margit Island. I didn't have time to go around the island, though eventually my goal is to be able to do the whole route and around the island jogging, I walked with raised tempo to the island.

I'm sure the island is far prettier, and the experience for anyone who loves nature must be blissful, this route I made wasn't without beauty either. It was magical to walk around the Roman findings of the Florian square, and just magical to walk on the Árpád bridge, looking at the sun gleaming from the surface of the Danube. The trees leaning over to the bridge, their high branches close to the walker, showed something amazing. The branches, seemingly naked and colorless, perhaps still wearing the asen colors of winters, were actually full of little buds or tiny wrapped leaves and flowers ready to bloom at any minute. Up close, as they let me touch them, they were so full of life and expectation, like consumed performers part of a great show, waiting for their tempo, their moment to join the choir of colors and life. Not a minute earlier, not a minute later, but there, full of life and promise, waiting for the time of God, the right moment that doesn't fit the schedule of men,  but the schedule of perfection, to bloom in perfect synchrony and make life wonderful.

I walked about 3.53 km, I exercised and was part of this communion with nature for 50 minutes, took about 5000 steps... but above all, as I walked, I prayed, talked to God in his many forms, stripped of religion, just God and I in the frame of the wonders of His creation... and it was wonderful.

God is everywhere, and often His words can be heard stronger, clearer in the depths of your heart, than read from books and words of scholars.

A Happy Discovery

After having both of my lower wisdom teeth extracted last week, (one of Wednesday and the other one of Thursday), I've been doing quite well. No major problems, virtually no pain (except for the expected pull here and there from the work done) and everything just swell.  Three days of vacations - which I've taken to have the procedures done and an extra day to link it to the weekend, so I can get a decent amount of rest - have gone flying by so quickly. Still, the looming of Monday and another work day doesn't bother me at all: these are the blissfull days of someone knowing that work is reaching an end (and hopefully a new job will arrive in time ^_^). However, what's pissing me off currently is the baby food. Yes, the baby food.

After having your teeth removed, like with most surgeries that touch any part of the digestive system (and the mouth is part of it, in case you didn't know), you are commanded to eat only soft foods, and soft foods are mainly soups and baby food. Normally I love baby food, and indulge from time to time with a jar or two of peach or prune "2nd Food". From time to time it's fun and delicious, but three days on the row... or more like four now, eating only baby food it's becoming too much. It's ennerving! I've spend days eating less than 1000 calories a day (I know for I keep the count of the calories now with the fitbit), when before that I kept going over the daily recommended amount (2000) and by far (once I've got 6000 ^_^). So, this is when I start dreaming about food and the day I'll be free again to stuff my face with whatever I want.

Yesterday, however, as I met with my dear friend Shimmy Gin, I realized that there was something else I could eat while the wounds in my mouth healed: mashed potatoes. *Insert Celestial Music* As we sat chatting at a coffee place nearby, I nursed dearly a plate with delicious, creamy, warm mashed potatoes enjoying every bit of it. Oh dear, how did we got to that point?

Sometimes you can't help it. I couldn't eat anything else if I wanted, because I undergo a procedure and thus I need to give it time to heal, otherwise I could suffer quite unpleasant consequences. I'm losing weight like crazy now, and though I'm not hungry - I was always one fo those who eat little - I'm constantly yearning for something else. I want nachos with garlic seasoned sour cream, bread with sour cream (I love sour cream), buffalo wings, pizza, chicken risotto, sushi, salad, sesame sticks (with garlic and pepper seasoned sour cream), PB&J sandwich... Shimmy told me that after he had all his wisdom teeth removed - and it was a procedure and healing of 44 days! - he got so starved out, that the first day he could eat like a normal (un)civilized person again, he hogged on an insane amount of Chinese food and he felt soooo good about it!

Hopefully my healing period will be shorter - or so my doc has told me - and it will be over just in time for the trip, so I'll probably hog on plane food (it's Air France, so hogging is understood) and then... in Paris. Can't wait for the Escargot!

I'll probably will gain back all the weight I lost with the forced diet, but who cares? Yes, I set myself a goal and it would be nice to work to get it... but food after such starvation is a welcomed blessing, no matter what comes behind. :-)

Tick-Tock Tick-Tock

Days are going by at the same pace it has since the first tick-tock of the world. Second by second, minute by minute, all days measure the same. 24 hours, each of them made of 60 minutes, each of which is composed by 60 seconds, and a second is a blip. Yet now time seems to fly. It was New Year not so long ago, and my boyfriend and I were taking a plane back to Costa Rica, from the beautiful, paradisal Dominican Republic, where the party is eternal, and the priorities in life have shifted from the material to the emotional. Now it's already February, and tomorrow will be the birthday of Tuesday Writer, and Imbolc - all in one and quite befitting.  Snow melts, allergies rise like the tide - and I'm riding one of those motherfuckers as we speak - and life changes.

Today started different from yesterday. I didn't have to wake up insanely early, for I didn't have to go to work: I took out vacations for my dentist appointment, and since I have to appointments - today and tomorrow - and both of them are big - cordal extractions - I also took Friday for "surgery recovery". Don't get me wrong, my dentist is an angel sent to Earth to do teeth, but once you are out of his office and the anaestetics wear off, it's like you were hit by a truck on the jaw. Besides, who goes back to work on Friday after half a week out?

I've got plenty rest - all recorded now by my trusty and wonderful Fitbit ^_^ - and now here I am, sitting home,  a bit bitchy because I can't do much exercise and push up my badges on fitbit.com, and eating baby food. I don't bitch about the baby food, I love baby food! Tooth extraction is just a good excuse to indulge on industrial amounts of baby food. Of course, not any baby food, only prune and peach. Who the hell would eat meat and veggies? Or mango and banana? :-P

Unlike many people, I actually like extractions, though I'd only agree to the extractions of my judgment teeth, all others only if the replacement is right there - I'm quite vain -. Unlike caries or cleanings, extractions don't involve any buzzing, and I hate that irking, vibration that feels like scratching a blackboard. So, basically I went to the doc hopping and smiling and came out the same, and can't wait for tomorrow to get my next out-of-this-world experience!

But what for the rest of the day? In here, with the days going tick-tock, tick.tock, knowing and I'm left only 3 more days of work, it downs to me that it is really time to take account of my belongings and start to pack. Oh dear, fit my like in a suitcase... or two... or four (and hand luggage). Get down to finish some letters, work on a scrapbook project I'd like to finish for tomorrow and then wonder and pray... whether I'll be able to go to yoga on Sunday. I certainly would love to see how my fitbit likes that. 

Tick-tock, tick-tock, the days go by and a new season starts where the old one ends.

Measure What You Eat

Well, after struggling quite some with my fitbit, I believe I've finally got the hang of it. Not without the help of Farrah, an unseen kind lady from the Customer Service who has been tremendously kind at helping me via e-mail to set my lovely little bit to function. As result I'm quite happy - I could say excited - and already doing something I've never done before: I'm counting calories. Man, do you have an idea how tough it is to count calories? I love to log and keep tracks on everything, but calories? And it's not bad when the Fitbit site knows them, or the package has them, it's a nightmare when there's no way you can find them!

So far I've been blowing my dashboard meter pushing the allegedly 1955 calorie daily intake, downing even up to 5000 calories a day. Do I exercise that much? Hell no! But I'm not one to say no to yummy pizza or stuff like that, mind you. However today... today was something.

I had to run this office errand, and I was going to do it on foot. I did it on foot. I had to go from Building A to Bulding B, and usually do that crossing the Metropolitan Park in between. However, as my allergy has been a real bitch recently - runny, stuffy nose and so on - I decided not to chance it with the trees, and went arroun the park, which made me take four times longer to get to my destination. In the way I've got hungry and since there was a Subway around, I decided to stop for an omelette sub and another sub for lunch. The sub for lunch was easy, as I decided to go with one of the healthier choices, but the omelette and cheese sub, with avocado was something else. Normally I wouldn't think about it, just pay it and eat it, but this time I was thinking: "how am I going to log this?". No, Fitbit didn't have the information, nor did Subway, who aside from the healthy choices, fails to disclose the caloric value of all other options. This brought me nearly to the point of NOT INDULGING IN AN OMELETTE AND CHEESE SUB just because I had no idea, how to log it. Yes, please notice, it wasn't a matter of maybe eating something that could make me gain weight, it was a matter of not being able to write it down.

In case you wonder, I ate it and logged then an "educated guess", based on similar products I found after googling "calories in an omelette and cheese sub".

Don't get me wrong, I'm loving my fitbit, and I love my account - to which I'm logged more than to my facebook account - but sometimes I do stop to wonder, whether this is sane. Is it ok to measure everything you take to your mouth? Shouldn't you just eat and run without thinking about the statistics, and just enjoying what you do?

Fit

Some time ago I bought for myself a fitbit ultra, which is this thingie that counts your steps, and how many calories have you burned and stuff like that. Since my friend Dragonfly-cr started running and wearing one of these to measure her performance, I was pondering getting myself one of those, basically to start running too. I wasn't planning on running here, though, as if I do I would mainly be running away from robbers and kidnappers (my neighbourhood has proved that safe...), but I do was planning on starting to run in Hungary, preferable at the Margit Island, which has a lovely running path made of something that's soft and feels cool. This things are called "pedometers" or something like that. Checking them on the Internet wasn't all that easy, mind you, as there were features I didn't get, and none of the mentioned things were clear about whether you need something else to go with them. Also, with prices running from $20 to $200 there was no way I could pick safely something that was really good and what I needed.

Luckily when boyfriend and I were flying back from Dominican Republic, I read on the plane's magazine - Destinos - (we went on Taca) about the fitbit. A page in two languages dedicated to explaining shortly this device made me decide that this is the one I'll get, and so I did (specially because I could get it in plum, not necesarity in blueberry, as you know that blue and I don't get along very well). The fitbit came with an internet page where you can track your progress and keep your statistics. Calories consumed, calories burned, activity, mood, and so on. A real delight for someone so into keeping track and tabs like me (who have been keeping tabs on my weight, not like it changes and not like I would do a thing to change it!), however... my Hyne if this is a hard thing to get by! The fitbit is all nice and cute, but it doesn't seem to be accurate. I climb 15 flight everyday to get to the office, and it says I climb 22. I end up climbing from 29 to 44 and the counter says 75 to 88. I walk distance of five meters and it claims I've taken 500 steps. What am I? A geisha??

The page also gives you an account on the calories you have eaten, for which you log every single food you eat. It's nice and cool, and rolls out a list from where you pick what did you have, and that's okay, and all, but it gets me thinking, that getting fit isn't as easy as one would think. With a thingie like this, it's not only a matter of will, it's a matter of patience. Does this really motivate? And in general, if you have a sendentary life like mine, how further do you get with a program that keeps you in front of your computer logging in your weight and every single snack bar you chew?

My goal isn't to lose weight - what for? I'm fine the way I am - but to keep myself healthy, move and keep my body well. That's why I go to yoga classes too, so is a dashboard to work with keeping me from effectively be more active or is really helping me, thoughI don't know that yet?

Pride as a Virtue

It seemed up until a few days ago, that I would manage to write one post per day. It would have been nice to do so, to add up 31 posts for October, and round up, pair up a month with a number signaling my favorite celebration: Halloween. Before you ask, no I haven't started my planning and rounding up for Halloween/Samhain yet. According to plans, Alix shall "lead circle" for Samhain, if we actually decide to keep up this strange decision to celebrate in a Pagan-ish way the cycle of the year, so it's not like I must be working on it, planning and coordination - no matter how poorly the end result comes up - though most likely I would end up doing something small and private - Solitary Witch like - just like I did in Mabon (though I didn't took pictures of that).

In the past days, the days I didn't post a thing, I took part of two activities that made me think about pride in a very positive way, a way that should be kept and nurtured inside everybody's heart.

On Friday seven of my coworkers and I went to a work tour to know an Eolic Power Plant and a Hidroelectric Power Plant. Our company - which is a State Owned Company - started originally working on the energy sector, aiming for many years to bring power to every corner of the country at affordable prices. The ideal back then was to work hard and do the best to ensure the country could grow and develop. The company gave jobs and made sure to have the best professionals in every area, sending them to study, giving them chances to be better and serve better the country. Years after the company also took care of the telecommunications sector, also seeking actively to interconnect the whole country, ensuring low prices and access to phones to everybody. The level of penetration in both sectors was quite high, earning the country the first place in electrification, and I believe telecommunication reach in Latin America. (Or so we have been told.)

With the years, many upper tiers got corrupted and soon we found our labor force filled with people more interested in pulling personal benefit, sucking the blood of the company for the sake of their own pocket, than that of the country. Service degraded, poor choices were made, elitism sneaked into our ranks, with many middle and high management elements too quick to outcast the poorer segments of the country in favor of big companies, ready to give away important chunks of service and price, not thinking twice before fucking up the little people. The phrase "they don't make us so much money, they can go to anyone else" has been said more time than I'd like to recall.

On Friday, however, we were packed into a small mini bus and drove to the far West province of the country, Guanacaste, where in Tilarán and Sandillal we've got the chance to see an Eolic Power Plant (Tejona) and a Hidroelectric Power Plant (Sandillal). Aside from the tremendously poor planning and evident adjust-as-we-go system, it struck me how so far from the putrid higher management spheres, there were people still living the ideal, plausible proud of wearing the uniform, eyes filled with stars of love and pride when looking at the logo of the company. It got to me how these simple engineers, working in far away locations, among machines, staring intently at control panels, still had that unadulterated pride of being part of a force that's there to serve the country. They may not make as much as any of those working where I do, and yet they relate to their jobs, they would give their lives and souls to serve the country. In they lived the kind of pride many have forgotten, with their minds clouded by greed, juicy paychecks, big titles, work paid trips to anywhere in the planet, and the handshake from corrupted politicians who wish to break the company to pieces and give it away to their larger campaing contributors.

It made me think that Pride isn't a capital sin, but the sin is to forget pride, to outcast it and thus be open to sell out one's soul for money, for greed, forgetting the noble ideas that can make you grow by serving your country.

A second type of pride I learned of was the pride of being able to help. It happened on Saturday, when a former coworker of mine, Andy, and her sister, Cucha, took part of a walk for Breast Cancer Awareness. It was particularly meaningfull, because Andy and I have very different political backgrounds and positions: me more "State oriented", she definitivelly more "liberal", and yet it came the day she and I walked for a common cause, and donated for a common cause. Without any discussing, fight picking or anything (we never got into arguments anyway), we took part of a huge Pink Force, among men and women proudly sporting pink ribbons and pink t-shirts, surrounded by people who was there for a family member, a friend, and acquintance or simply for the world, in an effort to do something to help, to bring awareness about this illness and others like it.

Here differences went up in the thin air, made smoke and it didn't matter if you were against or in favor of this or that, didn't matter if you were of this or that religion, of this or that sexual orientation, poor or rich, healthy or sick, strong or weak, fit or a potato couch, what it mattered was that you were there, helping to bring a message to the world, to your fellow citizens, donating time, effort or money - as little or as much - to help those in need, to contribute with the recovery of those stricken with the illness and wishing them for the depths of your heart, without knowing them, to be better. You walked there in support, showing respect and sharing the pride of those who survived and made it, infusing your life strenght from close and from far, to those who are still in the battle. They are not alone and we, a big pink sea, came together to send them our thoughts and positive energy to encourage them to defeat the illness and soon walk with us.

This is Pride, and this isn't a sin. It's the pride of being helpful, of sharing, of doing something for others, it's the pride that doesn't seek to raise above others, but to pull others along, infect them with the feel and the happiness and move them to be part of a greater good.

Be Proud. It's a Virtue.

Body

Perhaps it's time again to get on this "eternal" topic of mine (though maybe "recurrent" is a better suited adjective to it), but this was actually prompted by two separated episodes. The first "encounter of the second kind" was yesterday, before a meeting. A coworker and I went to this meeting (which ended up in a fight fiting in style with The Fight Club), and while we were waiting for the rest of the summoned employees to arrive (we were the first ones, basically because I dragged her ass there on time), this lady started talking to the people at that office whom she knew. To my amazement, her comment to those who came to talk to her were the same:

"Good Grace! You've got so fat!!"

Well, 1. Christmas time is here, and I don't know how it is in other parts of the world, but here (and in Hungary at least) the most delicious and fattening foods are prepared and consumed, and 2. What's her business what do they look like? Is she being paid for how thin they are? Did they ask for her opinion? It did was shocking, to say the least, but hey, she ain't known for minding her own business or being tactful arounf others (even though she claims to be so). She and another colleague of ours are overly wrapped around the idea of being thin. Dieting, competing to see who loses more weight, pulling every trick in the business and stopping short from getting liposuctions for Christmas. All that mindless search for thinness (regarded as the ideal of phisical perfection) leads them both nowhere. At one point I started considering yesterday to prepare them a card or some letter showing them a picture of Marilyn Monroe and another of a prisoner of a Concentration Camp to shake them off.

The second "encounter" with the topic was through a letter from my friend Sartassa, who added this topic to her latest e-mail. In her e-mail (and I'm free-quoting her here, though I have not asked for her permission... ^_~ you don't mind, do you?) she talked about how some food actually make people happy, noodles and chocolate toping the list. Gara say, I totally agree with her. After all, doesn't a bit of your favorite chocolate brighten your day, or the thought of a bowl filled woth warm gnoccis in tomato sauce and LOADS of freshly shredded mozzarella cheese, or ricotta cheese filled ravioli make your day? It sure makes mine! (I think onigiris and sushi should also be added to happy-food.) So, following the trascendental philosophy of my friend, why on Earth would you deny yourself a bite at happiness? I mean, not like food is the ONLY source of happiness, but it's one of them, and when you CLEARLY want it, crave it and feel it would be good for you, why do you say no? It's not like you are needing cocaine or something, it's food, and food is good. People work for food and shelter, so why would it be bad?


Thinness won't make you prettier or happier for that matter. Thinness can kill you. Canelloni don't. Thinness abuses of your body. Chocolate don't. Thinness brings a great deal of problems to your health and life in general. Spaghetti don't. I'm not telling you to be fat and pig out, I'm telling your to be... you. Your body has a natural shape and a natural weight, so let it reach it. It will change with the years, because that's part of getting older, which is also a normal thing. After all, trying to keep yourself young won't keep you from dying, nor will it make you "sexy". Trying to stay young past your youth will only make you look stupid in the best of cases and pathetic in the most of them.


I looked up for a few pictures of Marilyn Monroe on the net. Up to this day she's still being considered one of the sexiest women in history and the sexiest woman of the XXth Century. Please take a look at her body. She wasn't skinny. She was a size 10 when a size 10 was really a size 10 (today it's like a size 14-16). That body was the body of a perfect woman, desirable in every way. Curvy, full, womanly. Please, take a good look at her and take a good look at yourself. Are you trying to become a sick little person or do you wanna be who you are? Are you ugly and fat or are you actually desirable?


It the end, it's no about making yourself into a Marilyn Monroe, or "finding the Marilyn in you", but to realize that the world is flimsy and it will always find something "imperfect" in you, something to criticize. You've got to grow above it and realize that the only opinion that matters is YOURS, and tell all those poiting fingers at you to shove it. Be happy, eat what you want and as much as you want, pursue your happiness because nobody is going to do it for you.