I Saw the Sign... It said, "Not Today, Bitch"

I'm having one of those days. One of those fucking days when the world tells you to piss off. But, I'm not mad. At least not right now as I sit here with my laptop and my instant coffee on my comfy couch. 

There is another shut down, lockdown, stay-at-home order type thingy going on. Sigh. That has been frustrating me for some time because I want to do what I want to do with impunity, without scrutiny and without guilt. I don't blame anyone for this predicament. It is what it is and I am much more fortunate than others during this time because I have two jobs, no young children, I can collect Canada Recovery Benefits if I want, my rent is paid and I have food. And beer. 

However, last week I was driving home from work, shifting into 6th gear to get around some slow prick, as usual, when the Traction Control Light came on. Consequently, my car started acting like it was on roller skates for the first time. Freaked me out a bit. Mostly because one starts to think about money as soon as something goes wrong with one's vehicle. "This is gonna cost me at least a grand," said my negative inner voice.

My mechanic said he could look at it on Monday. It was Wednesday. I'd already delayed visiting my mom for two weeks and now I would have to cancel our weekend Scrabble plans. So, now I have anxiety from unexpected expenses, guilt for not seeing my mom and frustration from not being able to go to a movie theater. Many of you think this is a petty response to the global pandemic, but I disagree and here's why. Just because I know what I've got to do, I'm still allowed to be upset about having to do it. I'm an adult, I know about sacrifices. But, as a human, I have feelings of despair and injustice and I want to throw a tantrum sometimes. You can deal with your feelings by pointing fingers and ridiculing others for their decisions if you want to, but we are all just winging it here and a little compassion would go a long way. Except for that prick driving in front of me on the 417. He/she can choke on a fat dick. 

So, I take my car to the garage early Monday morning. By noon, I get a call saying they dried some wires and cleared some leaves out of the intake or some other nonsense and I was good to go. As a woman, I'm used to mansplaining. I frequently have men explain how a remote control works even though I co-owned a satellite installation business. I've had men try to explain how to change a beer keg when I have seen more couplers and tapped more casks than any greenhorn beer snob. I grew up around cars and I know a thing or two, so when I tell you there's a problem with the traction control and you give me "whirlybirds in my manifold", I feel attacked.

To be fair, what actually happened was my ABS light was not on when I took it to the garage. They fixed what the engine code told them to fix and my feelings of indignation and pride are unwarranted. However, as I turned on my car to go work this morning, I see the familiar ABS light up and my "I-told-you-so" attitude came on. 

I tried to be nice when I called the garage and made another appointment. Then, I had to call my dad because that's what I do when I'm feeling helpless. I'm going to be 48 years old and I still call my dad to fix my life. As usual, he fixed it. He told me to take it back to the garage on Friday because that was the reasonable thing to do. Then I called my mom to reschedule our Scrabble game... again.

At this point, I had been jerking along the road, occasionally pulling over to make another call and deciding how late was too late to go to work. I had turned around twice to go home, but I kept telling myself to grow up and quit feeling sorry for myself. "You'll feel better if you just throw around some poorly wrapped parcels at Canada Post," said my passive-aggressive inner voice. 

I made my way clumsily onto the 417 with my chugga chugga car... and came to an abrupt stop. Apparently, there had been an accident just ahead and "this late" would definitely be "too late" to go to work. The gods had spoken. This was a sign to follow Doug Ford's stay-at-home order and just vent my frustration on the internet. 

"Thanks for listening," from my positive and grateful inner voice.

新年快樂

    First of all, what's wrong with the "new year, new me" statement? And, what's wrong with making New Year's resolutions? What's wrong with aspiring to do things you didn't do before, but would like to? Are we such a group of Negative Nancy's that we hate the audacity of anyone thinking they might try to do things differently in the New Year? Or, does it just put too much pressure on the rest of us if others are trying to be thinner, stronger, prettier, funnier or smarter than they were last year?

    I have so many questions and not enough good answers! As I do every year, I have made a mental list of all the things I haven't done that I want to try in 2021;  Places I want to visit, foods I want to eat, challenges I want to tackle. But, I am starting the year of easy with a little New Year Skate.

    I gained about 40 pounds in 2020. It's not that I wasn't active - I spent a lot of time on my poor, little feet, lifting parcels at Canada Post and delivering plates of pasta at the restaurant. But, I'm getting close to fifty now and my metabolism is not what it used to be. Also, I drank ALOT. Like... polish-off-a-bottle-of-wine-before-noon-followed-by-beers-before-2-and-finish-with-rum-by-dinnertime-during-the-lockdown kind of drinking. It was great! I also ate alot so hangovers were not usually a thing. I would love to lose this weight, but if it means I can't eat sandwiches and cookies... Well, my pants will just have to stretch.

    That being said, nothing wrong with a New Year's exercise plan. So, I got up this morning, drank my coffee with 1/4 cup of cream and bundled up for a walk to the lake. Mud Lake Conservation Area has such a beautiful maze of trails with lots of chickadees, squirrels and bunny rabbits. Last night, I took a late night stroll through the woods for some fresh air and my Blundstone prints were still visible in the crisp snow this morning. 

    I was enjoying the walk, but I really didn't want to go out in the cold. I was dressed in layers, which always makes me feel too confined. As I got more fat, my boobs grew even more and I'm now wearing a 38G. The "G" stands for too Goddamn Gargantuan for me to carry around anymore. My legs were still a little tight from helping my cousin haul brush to the fire pit yesterday. And, my ear buds felt like they were going to fall out from under my headband. Regardless, I was enjoying the Audible version of Neil Gaiman's Norse Mythology (narrated by the author himself) as I trudged to the lake. 

    I sat on a snow covered rock to put on my skates, which was quite a chore as a result of my belly/breast combination. In this low-seated position, it is damn near impossible to reach my shoes. This is why I gave up on yoga in 2020. There was no way of breathing in many of the positions demonstrated by the instructor, particularly with the twists I used to enjoy so much. No more Arda Matsyendrasana for me - I am more like Magikarp than Lord of the Fishes.

    In order to reach and pull on my skates, I had to take a deep breath, hold it, and throw myself toward them, quickly squeezing my foot into the right one and releasing to take another breath. Tightening and tying requires the same amount of effort. I began to think skating on the lake was not in the cards for me. But, I'm nothing if not tenacious, so I got those motherfuckers on and I proceeded to carefully head down the bank to the snow-covered ice, at which time I struggled, slipped and stumbled about 30 feet to the shoveled path created by ambitious, winter-loving, volunteers.

     By this time, my feet were starting to hurt. The strain of balancing 220 pounds was too much for my overburdened pumpers. Again, I was determined to enjoy my experience and so I persevered. There was no graceful gliding. With every push, I feared my skate would get stuck on a stray ice chunk or crevice and I would break an ankle. But, I was not dissuaded. I skated (somewhat) around the lake and followed the path of a lone skater to land... only to find the maker of this path had only gone that way for a piss on the log on which I had intended to sit and remove my skates! Fuck.

    It was all downhill from there. I got home and I'm now retelling my story of woe. My point is, I probably won't lose any weight in 2021, but I like hoping that I can and sharing it with all of you. I might not learn how to speak Mandarin, but I'm damn sure going to try! If you continue to be the same old asshole you always were, just know that I like that asshole and you should continue to be the you you want to be. But, this bitch, she wants to be a different bad bitch every day. One that can touch her toes without straining (or not), one that cuts calories (or doesn't) and one that might someday run a marathon - tits flying every which way (but, probably not).

    Happy New Year! This is literally my year according to the Chinese calendar because I'm an Ox (s/o to all you '73 babies)!.