Alex and I had a very enjoyable time in Charleston. Per Amanda's recommendation, we went to 82 Queen and had a fantastic meal. I really like the she-crab soup; however, I have to say that it was VERY filling. I ate a bowl *cough* and then devoured some delicious crab cakes that were nearly all crab. Alex had a bowl too, and then he tried the jambalaya. We split a peach cobbler for dessert as Alex has yet to try a single "southern" style dessert yet, and I thought this one would be a good start.
We also ate at Hymen's. Hey, I keep staring at the name too. It makes me think that you have to be a virgin to eat there...or makes me think of a particular Roman goddess...or then there's the vulgar tact of HOW you'd eat at a place called Hymen's...anyway, the food there was really good too. Burp.
We arrived in time for a later dinner on Friday night. The hotel room was great--a studio with a queen sized bed at The Residence Inn. We had a full refrigerator to chill the champagne and sodas. We had a stove so I could make Alex his hot tea. It had a nice little porch area, too. We were supposed to arrive earlier in the evening, but when Alex greeted me at his door in Columbia wearing a sexy hot outfit and carrying a half dozen longstem red roses, well, uhhh....let's just say we were "delayed" from leaving USC! We ate out that night and then returned to the hotel for what turned out to be a very pleasant evening. Saturday was cold and a bit damp, but we got out and went about town for a bit anyway. We toured an old southern house along the battery and I toured Alex all through the historical district. The weather wasn't too much of a minus because we found things to do back at the hotel...*whistles innocently* We watched a movie off of the TV and drank champagne. It was another great evening.
So then on Sunday we poked around the shops on King Street. Yes, that's right, Alex willingly poked around the shops with me. Alex LIKES to shop. No, really, I'm not shitting you. He's very male, yet he likes to shop. "Can we go into Banana Republic?" "Yes, of course!" "Oh look, Williams-Sonoma" "Let's go!" No complaining, no whining, no "I'll meet you back here in an hour..." I swear I love this man.
The hardest part is always leaving him behind. When I drove off from Columbia, I got very sad because I think it will be about three weekends before I see him again. Still, it's better than three or four MONTHS, which was what it used to be when he was in France.
Today is my birthday. Up until 21 it's happy birthday; after 21, it's just birthday. However, whenever I feel grumpy about my age, I remember the age old motto of: you are only as old as the man you feel. This makes me 25, 26 in April. So, really, it's not so bad! One of my students remembered that it was my birthday and brought me a big bag of cookies she made. They are banana chocolate chip, and damn are they good. They are half gone.
It's my birthday and I can eat what I want, you see.
Sadly, I realize that those days are coming to a close. I don't have enough money to buy new clothes and so I can't go beyond a size 8. My wardrobe has a lot of 2's, 4's, 6's, and 8's. I even have a few 0's from when I was incredibly depressed AND breastfeeding and couldn't stop losing weight. But this is how it works. I don't own a scale so I have no idea how much I weigh. I only go by how my clothes fit. Right now, I'm wearing the 8's so I have to make sure I don't gain more weight. Otherwise, I will have to go to school nude. I seriously can't afford SQUAT. Food is my passion and my life, however, so I have no idea how to cut back and still be happy. I don't want to give up anything or change my lifestyle in any single way, yet I want to lose weight so I don't go to a size 10 and have nothing to wear. Also, what I've learned in the past is that my body is freakish. When it wants to lose weight, it does, and when it does not want to lose weight, it does not. What I eat has very little to do with it unless I'm really going overboard or just not eating. For instance, eating exactly what I'm eating right now last year I wore a size four at this time of the year. Go figure. When I ate LESS than this in the fall of 2002, I weighed about five pounds more than I weigh currently (a guestimate...I'm a midget so every five pounds is a clothing size). I panicked then because I only fit into the bigger 8's in the wardrobe and had nothing else to wear.
See, not only is food something important to me, but I have food issues stemming back to childhood and the school days. For starters, my mom and my sister are borderline anorexics (my mom thinks that she is fat if she hits 100 pounds...no really, she uses THOSE WORDS: I am fat...and then my sister is only 5', granted, but FUCKIN HELL she weighs 86 pounds!!!!!). So I have always openly rebelled against the idea of being food police nor even caring what my mom tells me. For those of you who have seen me in the last few months, you wouldn't ever look at me and go, wow, she's unhealthily large or somesuch. My mom, however, told me that I'm fat and that if I continue to gain wait, Alex will dump me. Go mom. Ok, so to add to this equation, I had two best friends from high school and one of them almost died from bulimia. She was instituted not once but TWICE due to bulimia/anorexia issues; once she was in the eating disorder mental ward for one month, and the second time she stayed for two months. My mind balks at diets or caring about my weight due to these situations. There you go. You should hear me rant when a slender female student mumbles about being fat or going on a diet...I just can't help it. I have a fit. I'm so sick of American culture revolving around the stick figure woman. GIVE ME CURVES! What the hell is wrong with curves and tits and ass? As Bellybutton used to say, "When I look at women like Gwenyth Paltrow, all I can think is that she is so skinny that if I had sex with her, I would be lacerated by her bones and end up bleeding all over the sheets." Why do I HAVE to worry about weight? Why does any woman? Why do we portray these unhealthily skinny women as the ideal and leave us feeling like we have to do what Tasia (my friend I mentioned) did and barf up all our food? Or stop eating? Or buy lowfat stuff, or...and this is a HUGE pet peeve of mine...or have the goddamn food police stare at you while you eat shaking their heads. Have you ever seen the food police? I have. My best friend here, Shana, is a larger woman due to having polycystic ovary disease. It causes metabolic issues--as in it slows her down impossibly--and losing weight for her is a nightmare. We go places and she eats LESS food than I do, but I see the people glance over at her as if she has no right to eat goddamn food because she is larger. It makes my hair stand on end. But here you go, a part of our culture. Sigh.
Yeah, capsule summary: I hate diets. There :P