Friday, July 20, 2012

do i start a child army or make sweaters from sheep's hair?



I turned 35 back in March. No big deal, it's just a number. 
But a little switch went off in my head.


- Will I start a child army? (My man and I just got a dutch shepherd beast, who eats everything in sight including my underoos. Plus, I have to pick up her big poop; kiddie poop tends to gain speed and superpowers, according to my sister).


He's got you convinced.
My little peanut does not deliver rainbows and unicorns.
More like diapers from the anti-christ filled with tear gas.


- Wasn't I supposed to be a high powered executive by now? According to movies like, 'Working Girl' and 'What Women Want!' --It's just getting awkward with my boss catching me writing on his white board delivering my latest marketing strategy to my barbie dolls. 


A favorite picture of me, mine.  This doesn't fly in the corporate world.
Luckily I'm not this bad but there are days when my ideas are a hot mess.

- I think I should be taking beer, better care of myself. I need hand cream, I need a good night's sleep, I have to try that clear liquid, water, everyone keeps throwing in my face, I need to stop ignoring stomach pains that feel like an alien baby. (refer to photo above).


-WebMD isn't my real doctor! OK but really, WebMD is my go-to, then superglue, then the ER. Not really a system I plan on changing.


Nothing to do with WebMD but if the site could also list
good hair dressers, handymen,  interior design layouts, financial plans, how to be cool...




In the effort to focus on just one thing instead of freaking out about everything...
I googled until I passed out one night and read about a cleanse.






Basically a bunch of rich people do it, and maybe hippie people who live Oregon. They make sweaters from their sheep's hair so they can barter the sweaters for bales of spinach. I also think people in California do it because CA is warm and you wear flip flops so obviously a healthy juice in hand looks better than hamburger grease running down your chin. 


I did it, for 7 days. Here's the quick rundown:


1. I had to carry 5 of them to work every day which was a little annoying,"Amy your water bottles are numbered? What is THAT about?"


2. I had to pee. A LOT. You'd think corporate bathrooms are all fancy and clean. No. They're not. Nothing skeeves me out more than someone talking to me after I walk into a stall. "Hey AMY pop by my desk and we can talk about some copy I need."


3. You can't eat cheese, carbs or bacon.


4. Your sense of smell becomes enhanced. Think Spiderman powers. You can literally smell which house is making burgers, or steak. And you'll know whether or not they throw A1 sauce on their dinner plates.


5. You can't eat cheese, carbs or bacon.


So, I'm back to where I was. Still forgetting to put cream on my hands and realizing at 11pm that I only drank 4 cups of black tea at my desk.  I eat bacon-- cheese and I have shared custody of my stomach, and WebMD tucks me into bed at night.  Oh, and I fixed that really bad hair dye job. So, for 35 I think I'm right where I need to be. Right?











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