Labor Day

An update on my diet
This weekend I bought two things: a treadmill and a scale. The former is barely going to fit into my house, and I definitely didn't have the money for it, but I am really excited about it. As I mentioned, I also bought a scale. That's right-the enemy is among us. This was really a big step for me seeing as if I had my choice I would throw all existing scales into a pile, cover them with gasoline and light up the skies. This may sound extreme, but let me at least plead my case. Scales hate me. They are really mean and tell me I am fat all the time. So do mirrors, but the only reason I don't burn them is because I need them to pluck my eyebrows.

But I digress. I bought a goddamn scale, but I didn't use it right away. I just stared at it, and it stared back at me. Finally I decided just to give it a go. If we go by what I weighed at the doctor's a month ago, and what my stupid new scale says, I have lost 8 lbs. In my opinion, there is no way in hell that is right especially since using 2 different scales is like comparing apples to oranges, but I am totally counting it. Suck it, Fat Roll. You too, Giant Ass.

Before I go, can we quickly talk about my friend Steph? Steph is a complicated woman. She has two sides. The first is the one whose compassion for people less fortunate than her knows absolutely no bounds. It comes from a place deep inside that will never be satisfied with sitting on the sidelines or just doing the bare minimum. It's this compassion that has resulted in her volunteering to go down to New Orleans to help set up a temporary medical facility for those in need (she is the chief compliance officer for a hospital). The first crew they sent down there essentially were taken hostage, and therefore Steph's trip has been postponed, but her resolve hasn't wavered. For purely selfish reasons, I do not want her to go. The thought of something happening to her down there makes me sick to my stomach. But I also know that there's no talking Steph out of anything if she has her mind set on it, and that there is something inside of her that makes it utterly impossible for her to not go. She has a need and a passion I'll never understand and always envy.

Then there is the Steph who was the only drunk person at Jace's party tonight. The one who flashed us, danced on each of our laps, crawled around on the ground, threw a chair, made me go to the bathroom with her and bit Woody on the ass. The one who called her sister in Vegas and told her she was "servicing" Jace then hung up on her. I love both Stephs, but Jesus this one is way more fun.