There's Not an App for That

It started out innocently enough: sporadic flirtation, some fumbles along the way, the awkward touch or two, but we eventually worked past those initial challenges. I mean, it wasn't love at first sight. Like that weird-smelling guy with the cane who always sits a little too close to me on the bus, ours was an awkward juxtaposition at first. We'd waited a long time to finally meet each other and I was just so nervous! I'd had hopes and dreams that someday we would be together; but things just never seemed to work out.

Once we were, though, it didn't take long for us to enter the heady, happy days of our early courtship, that "honeymoon" phase where all flaws are overlooked and forgiven. We were in each other's company constantly - but so many others like us were - I didn't think anything of it. Nothing out of the ordinary. It had been just weeks of pure bliss. Well, almost. There was no small amount of disconnect, for sure, but only when we were home. When we went out, everything was fine!

And then came Independence Day. We'd been inside hanging out - it was hot. And somewhere amid the flurry of fireworks and wafting odors of charcoal, you were gone. Nary a sound as you departed.

Just like that, iPhone 3G. You. Were. Gone.


Wow. It was all so unexpected. I thought things were good. I mean, not great, but good, you know? Surely we could have worked out any problems. Why didn't you say something? Will I ever feel like that again?

I waited and looked, searching for you everywhere, hoping you'd turn up in an unexpected place. I had my friends call you - yes, I'm that girl - desperately hoping you'd pick up. But you never did. And I expected to go my own way.

And then something magical happened. I met the iPhone 3G S. Sure, it wasn't the same. Is anything ever really comparable to your first love? But it was good. It was very good. It's like meeting your ex-boyfriend's cousin at a party and finding out he's both better looking and more talented. That's what it was like. And I was happy. We were happy.

Or so I thought. Things became increasingly fraught as your family's genetics once again reared their ugly head. The lack of communication! He just shut down for no apparent reason! And why do I have to register for free applications now?

But alas, I digress. I was a steamy August day, sweat beading on my forehead, my Neutrogena "dry touch" sunscreen permeating my palms. And I dropped him. Like the anger welling up in a t-shirt wearing, ignorant-vitriol-spewing, health-care-town-hall-meeting participant as she takes on her Senator, I was furious. At myself, at you, iPhone 3G, for abandoning me, lo, 6 weeks ago. The iPhone 3G S was great, sure. But it was no you.

I am now giving up. I'm terminating my contract. I'll pay the replacement costs, return your cousin to the IT Department, and seek higher grounds. Perhaps with the Palm Pre.

It was good while it lasted, this whirlwind romance of ours. Too bad it had to end in tragedy.

Burnin' Up

How did I ever do it? How did I ever spend the hottest summer months wearing a 60 pound drum for three hours a day in the blistering sun? How did I ever spend two early fall months wearing the same drum in a fully lined wool/polyester long-sleeve, full-length pants uniform? How did I ever do it?


In the following years, I lived in a 19th-century dorm room, a second-floor walk-up, a post-war low-rise, and a 1920s bungalow...none of which had air conditioning. In fact, for only one year did I enjoy the benefits of central air, when I lived in a converted harness factory loft. And even then, it often felt like the coolness hovered in the upper two feet of the fourteen-foot ceilings.

Now, having inhabited a lovely subterranean dwelling, replete with central A/C, I find myself a hot mess - literally - when I leave the house and must face the not-even sweltering heat and humidity of a DC summer. In short, I've become soft. I've lost my advantage in the war against Summer. Summer heat >= moi.

I've read about people giving up their A/C for environmental or bedgetary reason, but how could I? I'm SO HOT when I get home. How would I ever cool down? This vicious cycle has no apparent end, and for that I am concerned. Move to a cooler clime? Open the window (yeah, there's only one), turn on the fan, and hope for the best? Become like one of those creepy old dudes on the bus with a towel around his neck? Yeesh! I don't like my options.

It seems that some people flit through summer with nary a care: Button down suits! Black sweaters! Long hair worn flowing! I, however, am not one of those people. Not anymore. Hey, Canada! You got room for one more? I might be on my way...

Pain in my Heart Space

As you know, dear readers, this intrepid blogger was to have run a 5K last Saturday.

This did not occur.

You see, I thought doing so might have killed me.

No, seriously.

I started having mild chest pains on Thursday, while still at work. I didn't think too much of it. Maybe I had overextended myself while helping move some boxes around the office? Maybe I had overdone it cleaning around the house? By Friday I was hurting a bit more and by the weekend I was in pain. Not like, ooh-maybe-I-sprained-something pain. No, honest-to-goodness, could-only-lay-down and couldn't-take-deep-breaths kind of pain. By Sunday night I was *slightly* freaking out.

Compounding all of this was the fact that I had (have?) misplaced my iPhone and, in case of emergency, had no way to contact anyone. I was chatting online with my sister late Sunday night, attempting very hard to relax and not worry. She helped calm me down, seeing as how she's had her own share of chest pain over the years, and I managed to get a fitful night's sleep.

By late Monday morning at the office, I was in full-on panic mode. My left arm had shooting pain and tingling in my fingers. I felt like my vision was blurring and my back was hurting, too. Was this the precursor to a heart attack?

The look on my face must have said, "Something's terribly wrong," because when I calmly walked into my boss's office and casually inquired about the nearest emergency facilities, he wasted no time walking me over to the HR department.

Half an hour later, I'm hooked up to an EKG machine and two hours after that I'm being discharged from the ER. Turns out it wasn't my heart, or my lungs, but a case of costochondritis, an inflammation of the cartilage that connects the ribs to the sternum. It often mimics the symptoms of a heart attack.

So I was fine. Or fine enough. I mean, the pain was real, and a couple more days and several dosages of Ibuprofen later, I'm still having a bit of discomfort. But all in all, no reason to panic.

This experience did, however, really make me stop and think about how I'm treating my body. It's not just about working out, or running a 5K, or eating better. It's about ALL of that and about treating myself with the respect I deserve.

I'm actually kinda glad I had this experience. I found out that I'm in good health, and that paying attention to my body is never a bad thing. Now I can move forward, keep on working out, and actually make it to the next 5K. Better sign up soon!

Picture This

The thing is, I no longer have a full-length mirror in my apartment. In fact, I try to avoid looking at mirrors altogether these days. I mean, I know what I look like; I live with my own body every day. But to be constantly visually reminded, well...that's another thing.

Totally randomly I have been receiving Prevention magazine in the mail for months now. Its target audience is women over 40, so they've got it half right. But there are some interesting factoids in there, along with several delicious recipes and whatnot. And there's this totally awesome/completely terrifying online component where you can punch in your statistics - height/weight/etc. - and out pops a virtual model of what you look like. To wit...

The on on the left (duh) is me at my current weight and on the right at approximately 175 pounds. What a difference! I mean, seriously - this li'l pic is some major motivation all by itself. Do I really believe that this faux-me is a realistic representation of present and future? To an extent, yes. There are margins of error in these types of programs, for sure. But it's enough for me to realize I need to keep pushing...keep going...keep moving forward...