Tag Archives: High School

Missing: My Metabolism

First of all, CALL OFF THE SEARCH PARTY! I’m alive! Are you guys? What the hell is going on? I miss my friends. Tonight we’re meeting at Bianca’s posh, new condo for some girl chat and if we feel up to walking up the street, Algebra’s band is playing at Urban Lounge. Mostly, I just need to see you guys. I’m coming over as soon as I get out of class.  Good? Good.

I’m just going to jump right in here because frankly I can’t think about anything else right now. So I don’t know about you girls, but I thought I was the sh*t in high school (I don’t know that I really was THE sh*t, but I believed it). Truly. I had a constant drip of self esteem oozing out of my ears, trailing off at the base of my too short cheerleading skirt.

Skinny bitch.

Even since high school graduation (June 2004, wtf), I feel like my self esteem as been trailing off. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still an only child and AM God’s gift to this earth, but still, not the same zazazoo I had at 16.

In order to recapture that same zazazoo or whatever, I’ve been trying to do some of the things that I was oh so passionate about as an adolescent. It hasn’t gone so well.

Exercising: Between the ages of 15-18 I was a high school cheerleader on a competitive squad (roll your eyes all you want, but bitches, we took Nationals). This would mean we had a class in high school (yes, you took math, I took cheer), early morning practices, late night Wednesday practices and football/basketball/whatever games 1-2 times a week. All during those times I was  jumping around, tumbling, stunting, running around in the boys locker room and painting banners. Then, at 9:00 every night my friend and I would go to the gym and work out (and then repeat again at 5:00am practice the next morning). I burned at least one hundred thousand calories a day. Now, at 25 with a job and grad school, how in the hell am I supposed to burn that many calories? I’m doing the best I can. I’ve started leaving my treadmill in running mode (not clothes storing mode) and I’ve traded in my desk chair for an exercise ball. On to the next one…

Very expensive laundry basket.

Food:  This isn’t even fair. I ate like crap until I graduated from college. If I tried eating like I did when I was a teen not only would I gain 40 pounds, but I’d probably drop dead of a heart attack. God, I hate my decade younger self.

Tanning: I loved me some UV rays in those younger days. I would go to two different tanning salons so I could go twice a day (because of that pesky 24 hour rule). Seriously. How am I not all wrinkly and covered in cancerous moles? In any event, this week I traded in my usual versa spa fake tan for some UV fake tan. (DRUM ROLL PLEASE….) I’m the color of a freaking tomato.

So. My quest to reclaim my former self esteem isn’t going so well, but maybe I’m on the right track. Maybe a little more putting me and the things I like to do first and everything else second will prove to be a nice little change for a bit.

Gym, tanning, cheerleading, boys,
BridgeyPooPoo

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In lieu(lulemon) of an e-mail

Bailey started her new job today (CONGRATULATIONS BAILEY!) and didn’t have time to send us a traditional e-mail. So we thought we would share our quickie IM conversation we had this morning instead.

*Bianca: Good Morning, Gals

**Bridget: Good Morning!

***Bailey: Busy Morning. But Hello! How are ya?

**Bridget: It’s Friday, therefore fabulous.

*Bianca: I’m fab too. I had a great workout last night.

***Bailey: Your new gym is weird.

*Bianca: Tell me about it. It reminds me exactly of cheerleading tryouts except you’re judged not by your high kick but the quality and quantity of your Lululemon spandex.

By this measurement, I am the poor smelly weirdo who lives in the house where the lawn doesn’t get mowed.

**Bridget: Dude. In high school, I was judged by my high kicks and my high tops. My High School was crazy judgmental.

I got to college and it was all about spangley ass jeans.

And now that we’re twenty middle – we’re defined by it all! iPhones, Cars, Skincare… Not going to lie, Bianca, I always feel embarrassed of my skincare next to you…

***Bailey: Spangley, huh. I’m going to have to look that up.

*Bianca: Where I am poor in yoga clothes I am rich in skincare. This is true.

If only we were judged on the fuel efficiency of our cars. Then we’d be the coolest girls in school.

***Bailey: I’m only rich in JCrew clothing and accessories thanks to my JCrew card and the outlet. But I guess that also makes me rich in debt?

*Bianca: Don’t forget friendship. We’re rich in friendship. Also, carbs.

**Bridget: Ha! Friendship and carbs, two of my favorite things.

I’m $100 richer today for not texting for a week. Thanks for betting against me, roomie (seriously, thank you).

And you’re right, Bailey, you’re very rich in preppie attire. And I’m rich in techie nerd gear…

*Bianca: I’m rich in hand-eye uncoordination.

***Bailey: Really, Bianca. Carbs? I have Celiac disease.

*Bianca: You are rich in allergies, my friend. And don’t see that as a bad thing. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. So you are both rich and strong.

**Bridget: And allergic.

***Bailey: I’m going back to work.

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Frightening High School memories are nice, too.

GOOD MORNING!

I am in an absolutely fabulous mood this morning because I am flying home to San Diego tonight! I’m so excited. And then I get to pick you and the Asian up from the airport tomorrow morning. I’m glad we’re going to L.A. I haven’t been to L.A. in at least 5 years. San Diegans generally like to stay within their city limits. It’s kind of like Salt Lakers and Provo or Ogden. You don’t venture to those parts unless you absolutely have to. I only went to L.A. once on vacation as a kid, and then a few times as a teenager to see concerts when I was lying to my parents. My Dad was really strict, but also very naive. But not near as naive as myself; I’m lucky I didn’t get killed with the stunts I pulled in high school… Oh, Bianca. You were an idiot.

For example, my junior year of high school I went to a Sevendust concert in L.A. with my angsty friend. I lied and told my parents it was a Spanish club overnight. Our friend who drove us up there decided to be a good kid and drive home so she could go to school in the morning. Idiot Bianca decided to stay with no plan on how to get the 100+ miles back to San Diego. Angsty friend ended up catching the eye of the lead singer, got invited back stage, and then back to his hotel room. I tagged along until I realized they didn’t want to be just friends. I wandered the hallways of the hotel until I found the drummer who let me sleep in his room. Thank god he was a gentleman. He let me sleep in the bed while he slept on the couch and lectured me on roadies and why I shouldn’t be one. In the morning Angsty and I took a cab to the train station and took that back to San Diego. (In case you’re counting the opportunities where I could’ve been raped and/or murdered, it was 8 times.) My brother picked me up from the train station and gave me a lecture on idiots and why I shouldn’t be one. It’s a miracle I survived my bad decisions.

I always get nostalgic for old memories when I go home! Except usually it’s for warm fuzzy childhood memories, but oh well, frightening high school memories are nice too.

We have to run the Rock n’ Roll half-marathon on Sunday. Are you ready?!? I’m not. I really slacked off on my training this time around. I love race day, so I’m hoping the adrenaline of that will keep me strong. It doesn’t hurt that we have matching leopard running skirts, just so cutey cute. (And yes, by cute I mean ugly.)

Dinner at the Dodo last night was fabulous. We should dine there more often. Sharing an entree was definitely enough food, and was so cheap. As a general rule I like to share entrees so I have an excuse to have a glass of wine (any excuse will do, really). My whole meal was $12!

Well I must get back to reality now, but before I go I’d like to leave you with this song. In case you’re feeling overwhelmed, this should make you feel better. And if you’re not, this should make you feel better:

Hey. You’re OK,

Bianca.

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