Lessons I have learned from my less than successful attempt at a straight month of blogging.
1. I can't do it.
A. My brain shuts down for a few hours around four to six, and then lays in bed wondering how it can get out of getting back up.
B. My brain shuts down at the first sign on undesirable stress.
C. That includes stress that I am unprepared to deal with: stress that is overwhelming in a non fun way, stress induced by a form of self promotion, my number one weakness, and angry food stress (brought on by normal stress).
2. Actually I can do it.
A. After a review of my previous posts, I had deduced that I have managed to do this on a semi regularly basis in the past.
B. My mind just needs to be in the right place.
C. But sometimes it doesn't, and that works out too.
3. I want to try this again. When I am not mentally flagging 20 hours out of every day.
4. I'm not sure when that will be. Post honeymoon?
5. I miss being more artsy and just a tad less fartsy.
6. Okay, equal amounts artsy and fartsy.
Tomorrow is my last chance to really do this thing,
and I'm all outta gum and I have the whole day. You hear that, interweb? The Whole. Day. Which I was planning on cleaning and setting up Christmas decorations, but I don't really feel like doing that either.*
Here's a random thought to tide us over. Why oh why did Great Britain in the early 00's have a mini love affair with hating on the smaller side of average size women? Seriously, take a peek at Love Actually and Bridget Jones Diary, and look at the tiny ladies they called whales, and then look at how they portrayed women who were actually overweight.
|Clearly displaying the carcass of the box of doughnuts she must have just eaten. Tubby.|
|Yeah, but what you don't see is the giant bunny prints her fat feet have imprinted on the ground beneath her.|
No wonder there was an eating disorder club at my school. Reason for this average phobia? Clearly England wanted to reclaim the country by starving out America's women. Nice try, UK. Nice try.
*This is proof of my exhaustion. Never have I ever been too depleted of energy to break out the lights and 30 year old stockings.