Fear and Loathing in St. Louis

In case you haven't noticed by my total lack of blog devotion, things kind of suck right now. I feel like I'm caught in the center of a hellstorm of weight gain and financial loss. Lately, for some reason, Hershey Kisses and Cadbury Eggs have become my new best friends and I'm finding that rather odd because I'm not really a big fan of chocolate. And at work my take home pay has decreased 25% which I'm sure I'll appreciate next April, but for right now is making it impossible to even pay my bills, much less buy gasoline or groceries.
I just feel like I am worried ALL THE TIME. It's as if there is a cassette tape looping in my head with a series of questions like "How are you going to pay for that? Who is going to hire you when you have no marketable skills to speak of? Where the hell is that guy who is supposed to 'complete me'? Why can't you 'just say no' to that slice of pizza? Whatever happened to writing that novel and moving to London?" My counselor would probably say that is my self-contempt speaking, but right now I feel like I'm just drowning in fear.
Fear of the unknown, fear of rejection, fear of failure, fear of doubt, fear of mediocrity, fear of greatness, fear of spiders, fear of exposure, fear of people, fear of pain, fear of hope (that's a HUGE one), fear of death, fear of intimacy and fear of God. I am afraid almost all of the time. This is not a normal state for me and other than the weight and the money I can't seem to figure out what has happened to bring me to this place.
Last year I was involved in a seriously intense group therapy program and it helped me deal with myself more than I could have ever imagined. I was blessed to be with a handful of women who I trusted with intimate details of life that I had never spoken of before and they accepted me just as I was. But, like most good things in life, this group drew to an end around Valentine's Day this year. Everything was going well at the time and I felt like I had made a lot of progress in my life so far. The truth is, I was feeling rather fantastic (and perhaps a bit smug). So maybe it was arrogance that brought on the turmoil, I don't know. What I do know is this; No one has had as bad a spring as I have, except maybe Lindsey Lohan.
So why am I spilling my guts to you now? You came to this site in order to be entertained, not to be dumped on, right? Well, I'm sorry if that's the case. I can't really help you out with that right now because if I learned anything from group therapy it is that honesty is my most appealing asset. When I am honest, I am extending an invitation for you to be honest as well (metaphorically speaking, since this whole thing is being done via the internet and some of you I have never met before in my life). But my point is that if I'm going to lay it out there, I might as well lay it all out there. If you're still reading this blog, then you deserve that much at least. So here's my newest Anniefesto, if you will.

I am a mess.
I am scared.
I am lonely.
I am tired.
I need help.
God, if you're listening, could you make this day the first day of the rest of my life?
Thank You.

Fiber One

An important part of the points calculating formula for Weight Watchers is the fiber content of a piece of food. Basically you calculate the calories, line them up with the fat grams and then weigh that against how many grams of fiber are in it. The theory is that fiber aids digestion so to more fiber, the faster it moves through your body (or something like that, I don't really pay attention). WW does cap off at 4 grams though, b/c otherwise it could get messy. I am here to tell you, it's the truth.
Yesterday, I ate a bowl (okay, a bowl and a half) of Fiber One Honey Clusters for breakfast. It was delicious and nutricous. Then I had chicken and rice for lunch (brown rice is packed with fiber, just so you know). And then, when I got hungry around 2:30, I thought I made the right choice when I reached for my Fiber One Bar (apple strudel is my favorite, despite the picture above) instead of the bag of Cheetos. I was wrong.
That much fiber in one day is a poor decision. I mean, I felt fine all day, but when I met some friends for coffee later in the evening, I noticed a little rumbly in the tumbly. And then some rather uncomfortable pain in my abdomen. And then, well, let's just say, it got gross. There was lots of awkward farting and much time spent in the commode. Not a pleasant evening.
Okay, I know you probably weren't really wanting to read about my bowels, but I felt that it was my duty to warn you that an accident overdose of fiber can stop a girl in her tracks, so treat that stuff with the respect it deserves. Trust me.

Dear March

Dear March,
You Suck.
Love, Anne

1. I can't count on the weather, so I keep a pair of flip flops AND Uggs available at all times.

2. I am not pregnant with the second coming of Christ. Missing 4 periods in a row is perfectly normal for a 28 year old virgin who has never been on birth control before.

3. Nothing is certain but death, taxes and getting screwed by death and taxes.

4. If I had known about www.paperbackswap.com years ago, I might not be so upset about the taxes b/c my money might actually be in my bank account and not in Barnes & Noble's coffers.

5. Firefly Lane is a great book, but prepare to cry. And I mean, Lovestory cry. Sobbing, snotty, gasping for air, but in the best way possible, cry. Fair warning.

6. When I don't blog, people get mad at me.

7. Apparently I carry all of my stress in my upper back/neck area. And when things get bad (and they have been terrible, trust me) the stress manifests itself as sharp, shooting pain that gets worse with time, not better.

8. Not being able to sleep for 4 weeks due to neck pain will make a bitch dream crazy. Quit your job(s), slap yo' mama, move to Switzerland CRAZY!

9. Everyone in the free world got pregnant last May/June and now I feel like I am supposed to bring all of them casseroles. And I don't DO casserole.

10. Goodbye, Battlestar Galactica. I shall miss you most of all.

Dear April,
Hope you have better things in store for me, or so help me God...
Love, Anne