Competition

Can't do without

chai tea bags, Post-It notes, Notepad docs, flip-flops,
lip gloss, video iPod, black sweater, eyeliner,
cell phone, the internet (unfortunately)
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I'm on a slight diet due to my visit to New York in a little over three weeks. My intention is to splurge on sweaters and jeans, etc., since I haven't gone excessive-clothes-shopping for myself in about two years. I figure it'll be a good excuse since November weather is cooler there than in Los Angeles. Even though my body will be wrapped up, I want to look my best. So...

I didn't want to exercise this morning. But I have this sort of competition within myself against others, or no one, or myself, just so I can get through that hour - efficiently, moving with purpose. (By the way, it irks me so when people don't move with a purpose; what a waste of energy.) I've been doing so for the last almost-three weeks and I can fit into slacks from about two years ago. Which I'll be giving to the Good Will because they're no longer my style. I don't know how much more weight I can lose in three weeks, but I'm willing to find out once I get there.

Ah, vanity, however slight. Maybe it really is some sort of subtle-in-perversion competition, because I'm convinced that everyone not only wants to look good, but wants to look as good as - if not better - than her, or him, or him-that-looks-like-a-her, or Androgynous Annie.

I've been concerned with looks since I was about 14, when I became conscious of my hips. Control was hard to come by when, as a teen, life was freakishly Jehovah-centric. It's such a relief to be in a healthier place, physically and mentally - despite still wanting to be perfect (but don't we all?).

Hmm, how to bridge...

I'm going to see my nephew this evening. God, I love him. The power of Cute compels me.