Keepin' On in Book Two: The Fifteenth Year of the Third Millennium of the Common Era

Burpees this morning… ugh. They were the hardest they’ve been all week. I think my body is getting to that point where it realizes I’m actually trying to do it this time so Body is like “No! Stop it. Just… stop it!”
After that straight to Court and Paperwork. Still doing well in my part time job but… of course I am. I’m overqualified and I’ve been there forever.
When I came home, I decided to make my wife some scrambled eggs (just the way she likes ‘em). SO I buttered the pan, let the butter melt… poured a half cup of milk into the pan… quickly broke 4 eggs and liberally sprinkled with shredded cheese… beat the crap out of the eggs until they were fluffy… and boom… scrambled eggs the way Wife likes ‘em.
Then weight circuit and jogging. Murgh. Must be something about today… just tired and not able to do as well as I should be doing. Though, at least I got 6.71 km out of the elliptical. That’s a little over 4 miles so… in some ways I’m pulling ahead. I know the elliptical isn’t quite like actual running so I figure… if I can get close to 10 km in half an hour on the elliptical; then maybe I’ll be ready to run a for-real 5K. And maybe, one day, get strong enough to do the Half Marathon Dam-to-Dam.

On the walk back from my weights and running, though, something happened that I feel I need to chronicle. Because it is a part of who I was that apparently still lives inside of me. In college, for many reasons (most of which I’m still not entirely sure of)… I was treated as a monster of sorts. I’m confident that this is because I refused to drink until I was 21 and refused to have sex with someone that I was not (at the very least) in an extremely long-term committed relationship with. When you have that type of person that also has a pain disorder that affects their sleep habits and moods? And then you put him in a 3 bedroom apartment with 4 other guys… two of whom love the drinking and shagging aspects of college? Yeah… I felt like an outcast every day. I could hear and feel the judgmental stares and hurtful words. When you add that to my history of being picked on, low-self esteem, routine rejection from women who weren’t in some way crazy, and general other problems… every time an attractive girl looked at me with disdain, disgust, or dismissal.... it got to me in a big way.
Well, today walking back from the gym, I passed one of the Apartment Employees. A very attractive woman (by most men’s standards) but definitely the type of woman that guys like me consider more attractive. You see, Nebraska is Land of Blond Worship. If you’re tan, athletic and blond… you’re considered an instant hottie. I tend to prefer the raven haired, scarlet haired, or brunette in glasses. And this employee is one of those dark haired girls in glasses with an amazing face and decent body. As we passed on the sidewalk, she cordially said her professional “good afternoon” but her facial expression and her subtle back step were severely noticeable. And it shot me in the chest. Now… there could have been a hundred reasons for her to do that… maybe she was concerned about something she was thinking about… maybe after a long workout I stank to high heaven… maybe a million different things that are completely not about me in any way. But even knowing that rationally? The pain and the anger came back almost instantly, like a reflex. This attractive woman recoiling at the sight of me; the monster. Completely irrational thought. Rather narcissistic, really. But there you have it. A beautiful girl turned her nose up at me; and it hurt me and made me mad… really for no reason.

That’s pretty much my day. I have laundry to do and two more job applications to fill out. I kind of don’t want to but… it is what it is. Part Time Clerical jobs in government offices. Certainly not attorney work. Certainly below my education level. But when an expert hunter is starving, he’ll shoot a rabbit or a bear- whichever one he comes upon first.

WEIRD INFORMATION BITS:
(1)
Somehow or other, I suppose while discussing Dame Helen Mirren, the size of bras came up in conversation today. I’ve never particularly gone out of my way to focus on bra size (as face and legs matter so much more to me as far as attraction goes) but I did some digging. Of course, I did date three women of large/larger bra sizes (a 36D, 32C and a barely C)… but I dated (and married) women on the other end of the spectrum as well (almost A, 36A, and 32B). What struck me, though, was that so many of my favorite actresses and models in the world claim an official bra size of 34C. Consistently, time after time, official stated bra sizes of 34C. I wonder if that is an unknown personal preference coming out… or if it is exposure based… as in, 34C women are more likely to be hired and put on camera… just as men between 6‘0 and 6‘3 are more likely to be hired and put on camera. The things I think about. :p

(2)
During my weights and jogging, the Meredith Viera show was on and they were discussing “Ways to Get a Man.” Eye roll, I know, but it got me thinking about a few things. Primarily: recently, I asked Wife what she thought her greatest weakness was. Because if one can turn their greatest weakness into a strength, one has truly conquered themselves. Wife said “Fear.” She is to the point where fear is controlling her. She fears change, she fears what will happen if there’s no change, she fears the future, she fears the path ahead… she is consumed with fear. I understand that… but it really shows how the woman I am living with is so much different from the woman I married. Wife left a live-in-boyfriend situation… a boyfriend with a steady teaching job and a house… because she wanted a life with me. She got her 2nd degree black belt all on her own… no fear about trying something new, or what pain her body may feel or anything. She chose, completely on her own and without me requesting, to move from Cedar Falls to West Des Moines so that she could be with me after I left college. And when we were ring shopping, when she saw the one she wanted… she didn’t even hesitate; she knew she had the man she wanted to marry and the ring she wanted to wear during. Several big potential-fear opportunities and she barreled through them. Now? Now she’s too consumed with fear to even leave (or get a transfer from) a job that’s killing her. Truly… I miss the woman I married.