It's an odd thing to want to be different. Not completely different, just a little different than you are. It's funny, I only have a couple of areas of me that I would like to change...
The first of which is my body. Not the shape, just the size. I'm actually happy with it when it doesn't have so much padding... I have a great rack, good legs and a decent ass.
The other thing I would change is my total and complete lack of patience and the inability to hide it. This is actually a pretty new phenomenon for me... not brand new, I could be a total bitch in my late teens and until I was about 22. But in my proper adult life I have been a pretty nice lady.
I can pinpoint the turnaround to a little over 3 years ago when I took a promotion and landed in the Human Resources Department. This was actually a pretty good fit for the nice me. But then I changed. Under the constant scrutiny, micromanagement and passive aggressive hand of what I would argue is one of the worst bosses (and people) in history, I changed. I got so tired of people asking me to do things for them that they could easily do themselves or listen to them bitch about the dumbest things, like the purse shelf in the ladies room or the cafeteria lady or their chair that I snapped. I turned into a crab and I am slowly coming back to me.
So here I am on a mission to change two things about myself. I have made really good progress on the bitchiness actually -- the last 4 or 5 times I have spent time with my mother I have not once lost my temper, and that is a major accomplishment. The only thing about all of this that I really wish is that the people around me who have noticed this mean Angie would recognize the nice Angie that is coming back... but I'll just keep trying to earn it.
The other thing that I want to be different is my body. I'm about to have surgery so I am not really dieting that heavily because I am paranoid that if I do I'll have complications. And a lady from my work died after knee surgery because she went back to work too soon and didn't take good care of herself and threw a clot. I know I'll be fine, but you can't be too careful.
Also one of my most embarrassing moments was caused by starving and health. In college, because I was really poor and liked to go out all the time, I would sell my blood. It really isn't that bad and I took comfort in the fact that unlike all the crackheads in the donation center, at least my blood was usable.
But I digress.
I was heavily into my 'Diet Coke and cigarettes' diet plan and so I had nothing to eat on a day that I went in to make some cash for a night of drinking. (I never said I made good life choices) Things were going along fine, I was reading a book while my life juice was being pumped out.
Well in the plasma donation game, they take your blood out, swirl it around and take part of it out and then put it back. So there is a little more to it than the old Red Cross donation. I was in the final phase where the partial blood was going back in and about 2 minutes (2!) from finishing when I noticed that I had butterflies in my stomach. I wrote it off to hunger and vowed to eat a little something after.
But then they got worse and I started to squirm... and then I decided to close my eyes for just a second.
Well, they watch you like a hawk in those places and as soon as I drifted off, I was woken up by the tech who (it sounded like to me) bellowed "ARE YOU ALRIGHT?, WAKE UP!"
All heads swiveled in my direction and whatever blood I had left in my body was sent directly to my face.
They unhooked me from the machine, made me eat a granola bar and drink about 10 glasses of Orange Juice before I could get them to let me go.
So needless to say, I'm not showing up for surgery with any questionable diet decisions that may or may not affect the anesthetic or anything else.
So I live with guilt about eating for a few more weeks and then back to it!
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