Thursday, September 20, 2001

Last night I told my mom that I'm going to let myself eat crap for a few more days, but Friday night is it. As of Saturday, I hit the "four weeks until the wedding" mark. At four weeks, there shall be no more cake. There shall be no more gummy bears. No pie, no cookies, nothing you can buy out of a machine. In fact, I'm considering ONLY eating fruits and vegetables for four weeks. (Along with my Woman's One-A-Day Multivitamin, of course.) That's IT, man.

Perhaps I should fill a small bag each morning with the only things I can eat all day. I'll be forced to ration, because I'll be able to see exactly how much food remains. I will not allow myself to venture outside of the bag. No trading ice cream for an apple. No switching chocolate for a vegetable when I'm not looking. Hhhhhmmmmm. That might not be so bad. Two apples, a banana, a can of green beans, a can of corn, and 5 graham crackers. (And a Woman's One-A-Day Multivitamin, of course.)

Last night we purchased my wedding band. When I asked what the grade of the diamonds are, the high school student who sold it to us looked at it and said "Um. It looks like a Negative 2 SI." As if he had any idea what he was talking about. Of course, he could have said just about anything, and I wouldn't have understood. Sometimes I just want to LOOK as if I'm smart. When I told him that I'm surprised he can grade a diamond with his naked eye, I could tell that he felt very uncomfortable. So did Jeff. So did I.

Wednesday, September 19, 2001

This morning I stopped by Starbucks on my way to work. Behind me in line were three boys of high school age. They were dirty boys with closely shaved heads and flannel shirts. They were the kind of boys I have always liked, and they weren't interested in me. They weren't talking to me. They weren't looking at me. They probably couldn't describe any of the people in front of them in line. Nevertheless, I felt very self-conscious. I was cursing myself for wearing socks with my capri pants. I was cursing myself for wearing capri pants. I was wondering if I really look like I'm 31. I was wondering if they would approve of my tall non-fat chai order. I felt like I wasn't pretty/smart/clever enough for them. I cursed myself for not being younger/taller/dirtier. It all came back to me in a high school rush. AND, it didn't stop when I walked out the door. By the time I was situated in my car, I noticed that they were sitting on the back of a car drinking their cool-boy drinks. I rolled down my windows and turned up my stereo as I drove by, to prove to them that I have good taste in music. They didn't even look up.

Why do I need the acceptance of 18-year-old boy strangers?
I'm not *upset* about not being as cool as them. I was merely perplexed by my own behavior. I'm already hearing myself say things like "My back hurts when I stand up." and "I think I have a bladder infection." and "I want to have a baby."

I'm getting married in a month, and I fear I'll always be the piano-playing choir lip-syncher.