On The Road Again, Take 2.

Just 2 days later, hardly recovered from our day trip to Fredericton - Becca and I head to Bangor. I know what you're thinking: I'm headed to Bangor to cash in my reward weekend. Aaaannnt - wrong.

I had to cancel the overnight for financial reasons. Then, because the spa we were attending is not open on Sundays, we had to cancel that as well. Instead, I book a pedicure with my local lady (insert shout out to Mermaids Reef Nail Salon). Then, I received the call to come to Fredericton and had to cancel. I like to keep my little puppy dog familiar with her amazing boarder (insert shout out to Whistler Boarding Kennels). However, in the night she dug at what we believed to be a hot spot and opened it up...between her boarder and I, we decided it was not best to send her.

So...we went from over night in Bangor, Spa Day, Tattoos and more...
To...quick trip to Bangor for tattoos - because I was holding onto at least ONE thing from this weekend.

                              

It is the night before, and since I had to cancel my pedicure appointment, my feet are in horrendous condition from not tending them most of the winter. Something needs to be done...I decide I am going to try the Listerine Foot Soak.

Of course, every recipe online is different, so I do my best and combine: 1 cup of Listerine, 1/2 cup water and 1/2 cup vinegar. It says to soak for 10-15 minutes. My feet are BAD, so I soak them for 20+. This may be where we encountered the problem. I remove my feet and they are GREEN. I would have even preferred blue...because this green hue very must reminds one of middle stage gangrene. All of the online tutorials claim that the dead skin will just flake right off. I can't say this was true for me...However, like I pointed out - I have terrible feet. Perhaps this might happen for someone with less of an issue. But I went to the tub and scrubbed on them, trying to remove the green tint and must say, apart from their coloring, they look much improved.

Thankfully, the next morning I applied a sugar scrub and quite literally scraped the green off my feet. Phew! We start off for Bangor and it is downpouring...Ugh.

Becca drove to Fredericton, so I was going to drive us to Bangor. I'm sure she regretted this within the first 15 minutes. I am quite night blind...and by night blind I mean dark and cloudy blind, rain blind and snow blind. Basically if it is not a semi-sunny day, I can't see. If it is TOO sunny I also cannot see, as I have sensitive eyes and they water ridiculously. Thankfully, I have learned how to cope and am rather good at navigating blindly.

                      

For the first hour and a half, we are just that, navigating AND hydroplaning blindly. But we haven't hit anything yet, so I assume we are still on track. Thankfully, the last hour of the drive was the perfect happy medium Brittany driving conditions, and we arrive to the tattoo shop (yet another shout out, to both Diversified Ink as well as my tattoo artist Siobhan Alexander.)

First things first..."Can we see your ID?"

Why of course you can, then I realize my passport is back in the parking lot, locked in the car. I decide to run out and get it. Why? Because I can't display my driver's license in public. It.is.awful.

Let me explain to you how awful it is...I have avoided any human contact with my driver's license to inthe very best of my ability. Normally, something like this does not bother me at all - this should indicate just how terrible it is. Becca had yet to see said license, until merely 2 days ago.

On our way home from Fredericton, my license comes up (can't quite recall how) and I make it very clear she is not to see it. She bugs and bugs, so I finally give it - it's just one person. I slowly pull it out of my wallet and hand it over.

Dead silence...

She's speechless...?

Nope, I look over...her head is tilted back, her mouth wide open...She is laughing beyond hysterics. It is one of those - I'm laughing so hard, sound is not even coming out my mouth - laughs. Finally, she gasps for air and a roaring, rolling laughter comes bursting out. I know it's true...I can't even help myself, I join in.

Her: OMG!
Me: I know...It's like I'm wearing a fat suit...
Her: And then ate your own leg...
Me: I know!
Her: Why didn't you take a new one?
Me: I did! I took like, 4!
Her: And this was the best one?
Me: They were all like this, I decided that must be what I look like.
Her: OMG, no...But you should never wear this scarf again.

We.are.losing.it. Neither of us can compose ourselves. Flash ahead 2 days...

Me: I need to go back and get my passprt.
Her: Just use your driver's license.
Me: I can't let anyone see that!
Her: They're not going to use it for anything, they're just going to check it.
Me: Ok, fine...

I hesitantly hand over my license...a moment goes by...the lovely lady behind the counter hands me back a form...WITH MY DRIVER'S LICENSE PHOTO COPIED AT THE TOP. This has never happened to me before. My photo is now officially out there. Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts....

In a matter of minutes, I was laid out on a massage table being inked and only randomly recalling the dreaded driver's license. I introduce to you, the result of my Diversified visit:

In honor of my Rice family - a little lobster, representing the family business, which my grandparents worked their asses off to create, and where each of their children, grandchildren and now great-grandchildren have worked, learned and had the pleasure of growing up.

A wave featuring Maya Angelou's Still I Rise - Here's to overcoming obstacles!

The weekend did not go as planned but it ended rather well. We of course grubbed up before we headed home. We were so excited to be in a city and have a variety of options that we couldn't decide where to go. Following supper, even though I was full, I just had to stop to Cold Stone Creamery before we left Bangor. Thankfully, there was no time for anything else - we had to get back home, because it is likely I would have roamed around Bangor hitting up food joints all day.

Naturally, Wednesday rolls around and I gained 1 lb, saying good-bye to my 30 lb. loss. I must say, it was well worth it! I laughed it off. Sometimes you have to relax for a weekend and indulge a little. The real test of commitment is getting back on track afterwards, and that is what I am working on this weekend.

On The Road Again, Take 1.

The long weekend was just around the corner - it was so close, I could feel it! The fun, the sun, the relaxation, the time to myself, the...all kinds of things I probably will not - in fact, get to do or receive...

What I did receive was a very last minute phone call to see my orthopedic surgeon. As much as I did not want to go to Fredericton, it was pay day and actually a good day to take off work. It could not have worked out any better - Yay.

I have spent very little time in Fredericton in the last decade. I went with Becca to the Kia Dealership once (and no further) and have made a few trips past Fredericton, to Oromocto. But, in terms of being in the depths of NB's lovely capital - that would have taken place in 2004, I believe.

I'm a pretty independent lady. I've traveled all over, moved to towns and cities I never even visited first, and managed to get myself around just fine. I wasn't too concerned about this trip, but I also had no idea what was going to happen at this appointment. Luckily, Becca needed to also go to Fredericton and was able to reschedule her own appointment to accompany me. I had done the same for her not too long ago - except in the wonderful city of Saint John - so there wasn't too much shame involved...and now we're even. Independent ladies, unite!

The appointment is soon over, and we're venturing back to the Parking Garage. We back up and Miss-Must-Be-In-Control...uh, that would be me. If you actually know Becca or I in real life, I'm sure you did not need any clarification. Anyways, Miss-Must-Be-In-Control provided some quite confident directions as to how to exit said parking garage. We're rolling along and - Car!!!! This car was - in my defense, going WAY too fast. However, in their defense...we were going the wrong way.

Me: We're going the wrong way!!
Her: I know.
Me: Why didn't you say something?
Her: Oh...I don't know.
Me: What, really?
Her: Yea.
Me: Seriously?
Her: Going the wrong way was less risky for me personally, than pointing out that you were wrong.
Me: So, you purposefully headed into ongoing traffic opposed to telling me I was wrong?
Her: Yup.

In her defense, she may have been right, or close to it.

Some things really are just like riding a bike - the lovely city came back to me just like that. We found all our desired locations. As we went about our day, I was recalling a variety of streets, directions, places, etc. Becca also kindly introduced me to some new roads and ways of getting about...
Her: This is the way I took the last time Grammy and I went to my dealer...
Me: Huh?
Her: Dealer...as in dealership...as in Kia...
Me: Oh.

We hit up Relish (so good, but also so not good for me) and venture on. Becca takes me to this AMAZING used book store.

If you live in the Fredericton area, visit the Fredericton area of even know where the Fredericton area is The Owl's Nest Book Store is a must. It is a never ending used book store. I was in my glory...Shelf after shelf, room after room, witty category after witty category - complete with a rolling ladder. You could even swing from the ladder and sing like Belle, while you select your books.

This was something I really wanted to do, but it was turned down by my partner in crime. Since she introduced me to this magical place, I obeyed her wishes. I will save this adventure for my next visit. As I sadly checked out of the store, I decided on one final request - to spend my next life as the stores chubby, grey cat - Pepper, enjoying all of my days snuggled up on the Children's Section couch.

Dreams come true here, I'm sure of it.

  


Now, it might have been pay day, but Winter Recovery 2015 is in full effect and funds are limited. However, I have a few events coming up in the next couple of months and it would be nice to have an outfit that fits me correctly. I decide I'm going to peak at some sales racks. 

Shopping and I have a love/hate relationship. I love fashion, I love purchasing things. But, I hate buying clothes for myself. It is typically a horrible and depressing experience. I am down 30 lbs. So, naturally - I'm thinking it is going to be exciting to go shopping.

Oh Dear Lord, no...I start off by quite proudly selecting a smaller size. Yea...this was not a good idea. I apparently was feeling realllly confident - because I also selected sleeveless items to show off my sagging arm fat and short garments for my never ending torso. So, you get the picture here, right? Whatever amazing shopping experience I dreamed up - was just that...a dream! I came down off my high horse pretty quick.

I put on the first shirt.
Me: What do you think?
Her: Mmmm - no...
Me: Really?
Her: Really...
Me: Huh...okay. *insert shoulder shrug*

Next shirt...
Me: What about this one?
Her: Mmmm - no...
Me: REALLY?
Her: Really.
Me: REALLY?!?
Her: Really...

Frig sake.
As I'm putting on another item I hear one of the attendant's come in...
A: Can I help you with something?
Her: No, I'm just here for moral support.
Me: *shouting from the changing room* And she sucks at it!!
Her: You always say you wish I would speak up and be honest.
Me: Yea well, I'm really sick of you being right today.

I leave the room, sift through the sales rack again. Now that I've returned to reality, I realize that there is nothing there for me. We head to another store, then another store, then another store.

I can't even believe this!...I really anticipated a more positive shopping excursion. As we leave the current store, I vow that I'm only visiting one final store. We have already spent far more time than I had planned on this endeavour.

We enter. We look. I can't find the dreaded plus size section...Fine, I think. I'll ask. A lady comes near that thankfully is NOT a size 4, 8 or even a 10. Phew. I am feeling comfortable asking for directions. Certainly no fault of this poor lady - but the plus size section is a bit on the wee side for a department store and she informs me that plus size dresses are "just mixed in". At first, I'm like...Hell yea!! I check the tag on every.single.dress. I found ONE plus size dress...out of probably 200 dresses.

The ambition is so far gone, I can't even see it running away from me. I drag myself to the fitting room, and it goes a little something like this:
Ugh.
If I had to, I suppose...
Gag. (The one dress I searched hopelessly for - is a mumu. A very not flattering mumu).
I'm over it.

Becca swoops in and encourages me to finish up what I brought in. This is the only reason she was forgiven for all of her previous wise cracks. I slide on the next shirt and...finally! Something decent. It looks nice. I felt good wearing it. Let's get outta here!

I was feeling pretty defeated. I have changed my entire life, and I anticipated a mediocre experience, at the very least. I still hate shopping for my own clothes, how disappointing! But, I found a shirt. As hard as it is to not dwell on the fact that I tried on several items and only found one (even though I only needed one) and spent twice the amount of time doing so - I found something, one something - when I could have found nothing at all.

That shirt couldn't have come at a better time. My feet and thighs were screaming. I painfully return to the car, swearing to myself for wearing a maxi skirt for easy access (to my knee, people!) and not realizing I was going to be shopping for one item for hours. I put in 9000 steps in that skirt and the chub rub was on fire! My thighs were so happy when it was time to settle in for the drive home. Oh, and the feet - which I didn't complain about at the time, because I was trying to get away with the fact that I wore Becca's shoes.

It was certainly an interesting day - I wouldn't expect any less. When I made it home, I snuggled up and tried to only think about my new shirt, my new books and looking forward to my long weekend... I also decided being cremated is my last hope for a smoking hot body.

Give Me One Reason...

In honor of my childhood friend Meghan, her birthday, and the beginning of everyone turning 30 - I MAY actually leave my house. Now, this rarely happens and I use the term MAY very loosely. I obviously do leave the house to go to work, and some of the extra community stuff I do. When I finally get to come home and enjoy my house and myself, there are very few things which can entice me into leaving it again. There has to be a damn good reason to get me dressed and out the door...and I can think of MANY reasons why I shouldn't. If you're ever searching for a reason to stay home - look no further!

Let's start off with simply - it's been a long week! You just need to unwind after the work week - and need to rest up for the next one.

You know everywhere you go you will be fighting your way through a crowd of a) stumbling drunk people b) crying and/or loud drunk people or c) just waaaaay too drunk people who really needed to go home two hours ago. You will also likely fall into one of these categories as the night progresses. Hopefully A...A is really the best outcome.

Your couch is far more comfortable than any restaurant chair, bar stool or the inevitable...standing all night long.

You don't have to get anxious about going out, fighting with your friends about who is going to walk in first and then spend the first 20 minutes awkwardly hovering until your shots start to kick in.

You COULD make an excuse to duck out early - but the whole point of not going is not having to do your hair, make up or even get dressed. When you're home, you don't have to wear a bra...or pants.

You save money.

If you go out, there's that one clingy person you can't get away from...or that one person who just will not shut up.  You have managed to somehow get caught up in this random conversation with someone you have no interest in speaking with, and now you have to awkwardly try to ditch. Somewhere along the way - something weird...like, extremely weird is going to happen that will forever be embedded in your brain.

However, if you're home you can feel perfectly comfortable letting your own freak flag fly without judgement.

Then there's nothing to worry about until Monday.

If you go out, people want you to make plans. I am a total planner - but I know there is a 99.9% chance I'm not attending, so I don't like to "plan". Then people expect that you're committed. I struggle with commitment. Unless it's a TV series. Which leads to another excellent reason: Netflix. Enough said.

 

At home, you can stuff your face and eat your emotions and noone will judge.

Also at home: Comfy's. No restricting pants cutting you in half at the waist. No having to squeeze in and out of your Spanx. If you stay home - you don't even have to shower let alone get dressed. You can look however you like...

Pets don't judge. Aloud anyways...

Everyone loves a good book - plus spending a whole evening fighting for your life in The Hunger games arena, dodging bullets from an opposing fraction or not being able to sit on your blistered submissive ass really helps you put your own life into perspective.

Now, how about not having to worry about the morning after FB, Instagram, SnapChat or other social media memorabilia you will find.

Take Out.

You can go to bed whenever you want.

You can blow hours on You Tube or Pinterest...and it's okay.

Most of all - stay home just because you can and you want to! All you young and/or single ladies - you DO NOT have to go out on a Saturday night...I repeat - you do not have to go out on a Saturday night...The world will not stop turning if you do not. I put this theory to the test quite some time ago...and as you can see, I survived long enough to deliver my findings. I am in fact, totally enjoying being a homebody. I think Netflix deserves a second shout out...