A farewell to ankles...and other lesser known classic tales...

So, apparently, it's 1987 because I used mousse this morning. The reason was twofold, 1. I didn't have time to dry my hair, and 2. I thought it might be nice to try and have wavy, beachy hair...Apparently, my hair is incapable of that because all the mousse did was make my hair look greasy, and it has that weird, somewhat hard texture that is what led to me not using any product other than shampoo, conditioner, and frizz control in the first place. I wish I had an off-the-shoulder sweat shirt, some leg warmers, and parachute pants to really embrace the look. 


I am a South Beach diet dynamo...seriously, I've finally channeled my OCD into something positive. The weird thing is, I feel awesome. Seriously, this is only Day 3, but I have consistently gotten up all week at 7 a.m. so I can have coffee, watch "West Wing," (how I love you Bradley Whitford), work out and make breakfast before I go to work. I have energy, I'm in a festive mood all day without the use of narcotics or alcohol (not that I was doing that during the day before, I'm just saying I used to question cheerful people as being on cocaine), and I look forward to the smallest things, like "Total Eclipse of the Heart" came on the radio when I got off work, and I nearly teared up. That is one of my Top Ten all-time favorite car-singing songs. I sing so well in my estimation that I give myself chills. It's really emotional.

However....this morning I happened to look down and what used to be my ankles and thought, "Hmm...did someone replace my ankles with a misshapen pillow; what's happening there?" For whatever reason, I am retaining the hell out of some fluid, and I appear to have gained two pounds since last week, to which the old dark and twisty Emily may have responded to by quitting my little regiment and eating a bag of Oreos, but the new Zen Emily says, "Eh, it'll work itself out," which has also been my universal response every time I've gotten a bad haircut..I'm not kidding, my hair grows really fast. There's no hair disaster that can't be undone, except for the time I attempted to highlight/dye my hair blonde about 5 years ago. If your hair is starting to go dark, you should not attempt to dye it yourself. It will turn out a color that frequents the pages of Playboy and many a strip club stage, but doesn't so much work for the average gal.

I didn't have to cook tonight, because we're having chicken with bones, which I refuse to touch. Well, it originally had bones. Smitty actually takes the bones and the meat out and cooks it so I don't have to touch it. Boneless, skinless breasts don't bother me so much as any bird with bones and bumpy skin...ugh...This is one of the many eccentricities that Smitty abides. God bless that tall drink of water.