Over

January is over?

Say WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT???

Here's my current problem: I think I'm obsessed.

1. I'm obsessed with money. It takes a lot for me to turn down an opportunity to make money, and it literally pains me to do so. Some might say that just means I'm SUPER hard-working, independent, mature, etc., but that's not really how I see it. Because yes, I work a lot and no, I don't have many bills to pay. My mom taught me that money comes and goes, and I shouldn't stress about it. But I can't help it- I stress. Everything I buy I think of in terms of "this is 2,3,4 hours of work..is it worth it?" So even when I do buy something I can't fully enjoy it because I'm thinking of the amount of work I have to do to pay it off. Seriously annoying. I just want to RELAX about it. On top of that, I'm a serious shopaholic, so I basically spend my life wanting, wanting, needing, getting..and then stressing endlessly. Someone give me a Xanex.

2. I'm obsessed with my body...and not in a "oh I'm so hot and ripped I need to stare at myself" kind of way.
Disclaimer: I don't think I'm fat. I don't have an eating disorder. I'm definitely not searching for (or wanting) compliments or assurances.
Let me explain. Kind of in the way I think of my purchases in terms of working hours, I think of things I eat in terms of the time I exercise. Every m&m I eat I think "Ugh this is like 7 football fields' worth of running". Whenever I eat something I usually end up feeling guilty about it, which makes it not worth it x2. (1-the calories, 2-I didn't enjoy it) Also I have a problem comparing myself with other girls. I know this is a huuuuuuuge no-no, but I can't help it! I think "I wonder how often she works out", or "I wonder if she just never eats". Or I'll become resentful and think "Okay I work out WAY more than she does, and yet her body is way nicer than mine". Ya, I know I know. I've heard all the "your body is beautiful, everyone is different, love yourself" blah blah. But that's not easy. I know we (especially women) are more critical of ourselves, and my self-criticism comes in the form of body image. I work at a gym, which definitely doesn't help. Especially in Provo where it seems every girl is in some sort of competition to be the hottest/skinniest girl around. I just see these fit, tiny women coming in all day and I think-what the H are they doing up there?! I work out. I go to the gym and work out and get sore and all that, and yet the results are not the same. It's a struggle for me. And no I'm not about to go throw up my dinner, or turn down frozen yogurt the next time it's offered. I'm just saying, we all have issues.

On a lighter note-I bought a shirt from Urban Outfitters today.

It only cost me $10.

1 hour of babysitting.

Totally worth it.

Tires

Let me tell you a little story about my past few days:
Wednesday night I'm driving back from Park City with Courtney and Anders. We're coming down the canyon at about 11PM and I hear a weird sound coming from my tire. I pull over to inspect. We (and by "we" of course I mean Anders) soon figure out that my tire is so bald that it's now shredding apart and the metal underneath is coming through. What, who knows what bald tires are? So we (again, by "we" I don't mean myself) quickly put on the spare and drive carefully home.

-Sidenote: Wednesday was a random day in which it wasn't snowing or raining on the canyon drive. Lucky for me, or my car would most likely be down in some ditch having spun off the road due to zero, or negative, grip capability.

So I wake up Thursday morning to go pick up my kids (not really mine) from preschool. Aaaaaand enter flat spare tire. Seriously? I frantically call my sister and she shows up 30 seconds later to pick me up (by some "coincidence" she lives around the corner from me). So I (and by "I" I don't mean myself-except the money part unfortunately) spend the day pumping up my spare tire, researching the cheapest tires around, and finally spending $512.13 on 4 brand spankin' new tires. What the hell. Apparently my back tires weren't lookin' so hot either. Seriously, who knows what bald tires look like? But fine, tires are an investment and I needed them so I bit the bullet.

Friday comes and goes with no real incidents, thank goodness. (Actually it is worth mentioning that on Friday I went to Victoria's Secret and it was revealed to me that I measure at a 32B. Say WHAAAAAT? The itty-bitty-titty-committe has one less member)

Saturday I wake up and drive to my sister's house. On the way there some boy stops me and tells me that my back tire is flat. Excuse me? The tire I just spend $500 is flat? Yes, that's the one. So I get to Laura's house and sure enough, flat. I decide that I'm a grown adult and can figure out how to use the air compressor without help. (Also because Mike is at work so I had no choice) So I figure out how to use it, figure out how much air to put in the tire, and complete my task feeling very proud of myself. As I'm going to take the compressor off my tire, all hell breaks loose. I somehow manage to break the valve off my tire and all the air quickly escapes and leaves my tire (and myself) completely deflated. So I do what any grown adult would do...
I start crying and call my dad.
In the end all is well. I was able to get a friend to come put my (semi) flat spare BACK on and I drove back to Discount Tires and they fixed me up nice and new fo' FREE.

The moral of this story is that things are easier when you live at home where your dad can do things for you.

sidenote-just sent my dad a birthday card that goes like this:
"Dad, I may not know how to plunge a toilet or tinker under the hood of my car. But there is one thing you taught me that I'll never forget..(open card)
To ask you to do it for me."

Ain't that the truth.