All the Horrible Girliness

I'm feeling picked on today, for no good reason. Mostly, I hate my apartment's management office. I'd go into detail - the water turning off all the time, the erroneous missed payment notices, the complaints about nothing at all that must be argued - but it's boring shit.

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I got my feather dusters and timer from FLYlady yesterday. I thought they were silly to tout feather dusters as beautiful, but they were right - my dusters are gorgeous and on display. In my bathroom, but still.

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I guess I'm not done bitching about the management. I have a lot to do, but when this sort of crap happens (in this case, a notice about our balcony), I get so tense that I don't want to do anything but hide, lose myself in message boards. I have a bag full of paperwork to go through, too, that's making me sad, and the damn OxyClean didn't work this time on a stain. I guess I didn't let the clothes soak long enough. Add to that the bill I keep getting from the hospital pediatrician and my mood is going sour.

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Good news: after struggling all morning with a too-big skirt, I tried on some of my other clothes and found that they actually fit. I've dropped a half-size or so. My teeny shorts from Pacific Sunwear fit now, so I'm currently showing way too much leg. I remember trying them on, the elation when they fit! Holding them out in front of me, they still look like they belong to someone far smaller, possibly a cheerleader. I guess their shorts are even smaller still.

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God, I feel so bitchy! A glance at my calendar reminds me, though, that I didn't work out or have sex yesterday, and these are habits that drastically improve my mood.

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Kickboxing is going swell at Bodies In Motion, but I went back to my old kickboxing studio in Signal Hill to train last Saturday, and came away sore as hell. It'd been almost a year since I'd hit actual Thai pads and mitts - and held them for others. Stabilizer muscles I'd forgotten I had shrieked for two days.

My teacher, Trav, has called me on my ego twice: once during my first class, and once last weekend. I came into his class a few years ago with some small knowledge, mostly in boxing but with a roundhouse slightly better than your average beginner, too. He asked me, mid-class, where I'd trained before. I let my eyes get big and told him, "Nowhere." It was true that I'd never been formally trained in kickboxing, and indeed Bodies In Motion can't be called a true kickboxing gym, but Mister Aran had shown me a few things and I'd had the repetition that Executive Kickboxing classes give. I really just wanted him to be impressed, dammit; is that so wrong? For him to believe that I was a natural?

Apparently so, because he set his expression and replied, "Again - where did you train before?" And I had to admit I wasn't just a wunderkind.

Last weekend, I was telling him about Bodies In Motion and he said, "You like being the best in the class." Arrrrgh. Not even Mister Aran calls me out on that particular sad, ugly part of my psyche. But it's true. In many of the classes, I am better than all the other students. I really shouldn't draw energy from that, especially since my conditioning is pure shit these days, but I do.

posted by Samus @ 3:35 PM