Because I want to be just like Miranda when I grow up…
2000: Mid-junior to mid-senior year of high school. I was insufferable and untouchable, and told everyone who would listen how I couldn’t wait to get out of Mayberry and meet people who didn’t have mud on their cars and giant buckles on their belts.
2001: Graduated from Mayberry and set off for the big city College Station. I loved my first year, except for the weight I gained main-lining bean burritos. I pierced my eyebrow, or rather paid an apparently disease-free dude at Poking You Tattoo to do it. I changed my major at least three times.
2002: I settled on a major (International Studies, minor in Spanish) which meant pretty much nothing and led pretty much nowhere. ‘Twas interesting, and the offices were right next to the Education building which facilitated my judging and smirking at the future Mrs. degrees and their pink sorority t-shirts. Oh, the irony.
2003: Talked to Mr. Aggie on IM from my bedroom at night, pretended not to know him by day. He was in the Corps, all uniform wearing and rule following and I was so anti-The Man that I almost became a lesbian just to prove my point. He eventually got me to acknowledge his existence and I even bought a dress or two for his ridiculous formals. Seriously, though, our relationship began at exactly the point of greatest tragedy in my life and I wouldn’t have made it without him. That spring semester was the first time I’d ever played chicken with college by planning to save my grades with my final exams. Instead, my uncle died and my boyfriend appeared and I got my first C and only D. It didn’t kill me, but I was heavily wounded.
2004: Got engaged. Who could say no to this?
Sidenote: Mr. Aggie started Atkins in January and proposed in April. We opened stockings fat and happy, and then I looked up and he was thinner than me when he annointed day arrived. After seeing the pictures I started living off bacon grease, too, and we got skinny together. Then fat. Then skinny. And now, fat again. But don’t worry–we’re going to get skinny!
I spent the fall semester in Costa Rica, pining for my beau and eating disgusting food swimming in cilantro. I also traveled and met amazing people, but who would I be if I focused on that? Certainly not myself.
2005: Got hitched. Survived my first year of teaching.
2006: Same as above, didn’t suck as much at either endeavor.
2007: Still doing the same as the previous two years. Got skinny by exercising, fell in love with cardio kickboxing and the ambiguously gay instructor who kicked my ass on a regular basis.
2008: Got pregnant just so I could eat a crapload of corndogs. We waited until he was born to find out the sex, so I spent the rest of ’08 packing on the pounds and planning for our surprise. Oh, and graduating with my masters and walking the stage with my fifteen chins held high.
2009: Started the year by pushing 9 lb 15 oz baby out of my girlparts. Spent the rest of the year trying to keep him alive. I went to work, I think, and bathed occasionally, but mostly just lived to serve.
2010: The plan is to lose the baby weight (which is now more like ranch-dressing weight) and save my marriage. I haven’t blogged as much because things aren’t pretty around here. Not knowing how many of you lovelies followed the link from Facebook necessitates some discretion, but I will say that we both want to make it work and we’re going to involve a professional this week to make that happen.
If you undertake this ridiculously narcassistic endeavor, link back so I can read it. (I added that myself, it’s not the leftover verbage from a lame forward or anything. It’s my unique lameness.)