I could just ignore the fact I haven’t blogged in a year, but I’d like to catch you all up with me.
Last we knew, I was graduated and starting a job at an elementary school. I have now graduated kindergarten for a second time and am in a Fellowship Program to receive my Master’s in Education, golf claps for me!
I also am very pleased and proud to say that I have successfully maintained my weight loss for a full year within one pound (depending it seems, on the day and if I’m wearing my hair up or down). My goal for the year was no to lose, but to maintain so that some of this ugly loose skin would tighten, and though there are those days of discouragement, I have noticed that those trouble spots are in fact recuperating.
Leaving the best for last is this ridiculous gem of a story. I’m standing in a dive of a bar (no offense Katja), falling asleep in a corner because it’s past two in the morning and I had been working with kindergarteners all day and still kind of celebrating Katja’s birthday. When all of a sudden my arm is wet. My first inclination was to think this was some sort of hallucination from my wonky sleep-deprived mind, but as I feel my arm, I realize that it is in fact wet. It wasn’t the bar falling in on me, a water leak, or an exciting bar fight with multiple drinks being thrown (in all honesty, I wouldn’t last a second in the middle of a bar fight even if I wasn’t involved). The actual culprit was the giant of the man standing next to me, squeezed into the corner, sobbing on me as though my arm was a fleshy tissue.
I can’t say that I felt sympathetic as I ran away and wedged myself between Katie and Stephanie and forced the birthday girl to be subjected to such madness.
So you might think I’m a nice person, wanting to be a teacher, being all healthy, and celebrating a birthday. But, my sympathies can only extend so far, and they do not include getting cried on by someone else’s friend at a bar. Pull it together, America. Or at least take it outside.