I am in San Diego at a west coast swing convention all weekend. Problem being that the one person I know here and her friends have very different plans for this convention than I do--I want to take the workshops and watch some dancing and do a little. They want to sleep all day and do the open dancing all night long. Which is awkward both for sleeping arrangements and for knowing anyone to dance with. Sigh.

I still watch Greys but haven't this week.

My weekend includes the symphony tonight, working a big ass garage sale tomorrow, and, hopefully, basking in Mother's Day goodness on Sunday.

My OT was over two weeks so not absolutely horrific but still way more than my norm. The extra pay will likely go to some bills and upgrading to an iPhone 5. Maybe.

Steph, that is SUCH a great dress for you.

I can't remember the first time the Body Image Monsters appeared in my psyche. It feels like they've always been there.

I'm sorry, Anne. I know.

My weekend is lots of hockey and more cigar box work. And it might rain! In which case I will actually finally do the weeding I've been putting off.

I don't remember any childhood self-image crises, but that's mostly because I was petted and admired a lot as a kid; it wasn't until much later that I pinged some of that (not all) as orientalism and novelty. It wasn't until puberty, when I wasn't actually getting attention from the boys I was boy crazy about that I started to put together that there was a difference about me.

My cycle was opposite Jesse's. My 7th grade photo looks years older than my 8th grade photo. I had just moved schools, and had decided to reinvent my goody-two-shoes weirdo Jesus freak image. So it's all permed and makeuped and jewelry'd and short skirts and soft focus smile. I climbed the social ladder at my new school, reached the top lunch table and the best party invitations, realized the people there were vapid and uninteresting, and never bothered with them again. By 8th grade my photo is all suntanned and makeup-free and casual, because I said screw it, and spent all the time I wanted to romping around in the woods. Then in high school I met my group of misfits, including the knife-wielding boy, avoided the lunchroom, and lived happily ever after.

So all my clothes then were whatever I wanted to wear, which included my dad's awesome 70's pale blue and green suit jackets and ties over white t-shirts and jeans with rolled cuffs and those little white tennis shoes. Yes. And then there was grunge. So.

I always played with androgyny, but not seriously until after I was married. Bless the SO who liked the early 90's protoypical girl and liked the surly pixie cut button-downs woman and liked the neo-hippie and the circle-pit pseudo-military punk.

So I toyed with conventionality, but ultimately decided it wasn't really for me. I feel like I kinda went through that again recently with the pretty long hair, which was nice enough, and complimented, but made me feel...not like me. With my current hair and the tour clothes I've been buying (stripey!) I feel like I'm happy with myself as who I am.

My weekend will be spent recovering from this week.

Mon-Thurs I was hacking my lungs out, wheezing like crazy, plus terrible ear/nost/throat pain. Thursday I finally went to the doctor and now I'm on four different meds and finally feeling kinda human again.

Wednesday night ALL of the pipes under the kitchen sink sprung leaks. (I suspect they had been leaking slowly for some time, Wednesday there was finally enough water for us to notice it.) So Thursday after the doctor's office I called the plumber.

Thursday night was our building's annual shareholder's meeting, which I (and my co-board member) had to lead, me with basically no voice since the steroids and antibiotics hadn't had a chance to work. I was re-elected to the board, so yay, another year of having a shitty second job that doesn't pay anything.

Today I stayed home while the plumber replaced all the pipes under the sink and also our leaky master bath faucets just for good measure because I really enjoy watching ALL of my money vanish before my very eyes. Poof!

Then, because of the plumber and the doctor yesterday, I stayed an hour and a half late at work on a goddamn Friday. And THEN, and THEN the commute.

Got down to the subway platform and noticed it was filling up with smoke. Heard a few loud pops, then someone shouted "He just planted something, everybody get out!!" and we all ran. I walked over to the Q train and found myself sharing a car with a very loud, very angry, very drunk man who spent the entire ride to Brooklyn pacing between the doors shouting and slamming his fists into the poles. So that was basically terrifying.

And I'm on way too many meds right now for a drink. So this week can fuck off and die any goddamn time.

Oh Jesus, Jessica.

I'm sorry, Anne.

I think about how badly I felt about my appearance when I was a teenager and what a fucking waste of time that all was. I would love to talk to the younger me and impart some wisdom. But is that like life - we live linearly and can't really benefit from our own wisdom.

That is a hell of a week, Jess. I certainly hope your weekend is all sunshine and roses.

we live linearly and can't really benefit from our own wisdom.

Well, except for now.

I'm watching Scandal, and I'm wondering if typing is too boring for prime time. There's some single click multi-sentence shit happening here, where it's normal bash-bash-never the sound of the space bar-bash-no hiccough for shift-bash.

I gave up on today too. I'll take my laptop in tomorrow. Near noon.

I think my body below the neck really truly hates my head now. I'm so stiff and achey, and I can't even contemplate a massage on significantly affected areas. And I can't exercise. I will get the energy to clean the bath so hot soak, but not today.

Scandal is a trip and a half. I really enjoyed all the stuff last night. 1 more ep before finale, yes?

next week is going to be a hot mess.