Breakdown on the Journey...

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything about my journey to hotness. If you know anything about what’s been going on in my life, you’d know why this has been somewhat low on my priority list. But it is worth mentioning, here, that losing one’s sense of self in the melee of stress that is unemployment is something to be watched, something to be concerned about. It is in these times that it becomes easy to forget where we are heading, forget our goals, forget things that are important to us and forget to concentrate on those things rather than the bill collectors and interviewers in one’s life.

I have not let go, have not given up. I am still working on how I feel about myself, my look, my hotness as it were. However, it is true that the trials of life have just reached a fever pitch that I can no longer ignore. I am sleeping too much lately. Sometimes, I am sleeping too little. But I am also drinking pitchers of water that I normally don’t have time to drink while working. My hair is falling out, I have sores on my head from compulsive nervous scratching (even cutting off my nails hasn't helped this) and I have unholy pains in my muscles. Yet I still am trying to get to the gym whenever possible. In fact, that last time I was there, rockin’ out to AC/DC on the seated bench press machine, a sweaty but handsome Tommy Shaw from Styx nearly snuck past me after a basketball game.

Something that cannot be overlooked, is how easily one’s self image can get tied up in money problems. I mean, first off… I’ve not been able to get a hair cut in months. That’s not to say my hair is too bad, but it doesn’t look nice and healthy and taken care of. Surely an interviewer will notice my brittle ends. My skin looks like someone has been regularly beating me. I have bumps that I cannot fathom. A facial would be exquisite right now. Exquisite and financially retarded. My food intake has largely been Barilla pasta (yummy, but not with this much regularity). Those 10 for 10 dollar sales are awesome when one wants to avoid the nutritional backslide that is ramen, but that much processed pasta takes it’s toll. It just does. So right now, for the most part, I seem to be in defense mode… making sure that all the horrible after effects of poverty don’t do maximum damage. And every now and then, I put on an outfit that makes me feel… attractive-ish. I even wore my lovely velvety high heals to the hole-in-the-wall Mexican joint to have dinner with Skari. Made it harder than hell to get in and out of her car, what with all the aches and pains, but dammit… I wanted to feel girly! It’s rare I really go out any more!

And so it seems that I have taken a small detour on my journey. It’s as though my karmic car broke down in some bum-fuck-egypt town and I have to wait for a part that is nigh on impossible to procure. While I wait, I am still tweezing my brows and winking at myself in the mirror, just so I can remember who I am… and where I’m headed. That is, heading toward my happiness… inside and out.