Dean frowns when he sees me getting ready. “You’re too skinny.”
I grin from ear-to-ear. “Suhweet!”
I started running again, logging several miles a day. I’m searching for a race to run. I found the perfect one–a half marathon that crosses the Golden Gate Bridge, but it’s at 7am on November 1st. Who wants to sleep early on Halloween night. That’s a total downer. I didn’t intend to start racing again. It just happened. I got a gym membership so I could get away from the studio if I needed personal space. Then I got bored marinating in the steam room day after day. So back on the treadmill I went…huff, huff, huff. I liked that after a bad day at work, I could run speedily and chase the worry away. I used to run a lot when I dated rampantly. Whenever I got dumped (which was often), my pace improved. I had visions of the Boston Marathon.
Now that I started running again, the weight is dropping steadily. That’s not good. As a former anorexic, I got to a place in my life where I was finally comfortable with how I looked, with how much I weighed. But I like losing the weight. It makes me feel empowered, all 80 pounds of me.
‘I may not sport a thousand dollar dress on my wedding day, but at least I’ll be skinny.’ It’s sadistic thinking.
I try to counter the weight loss with ‘healthy’ eating. Today, for example, I had:
M&M and Chocolate Chip Cookie
then pizza tonight for Marc’s birthday, but I’m so hungry I’ll probably eat beforehand.
I wish there wasn’t all this pressure around a wedding. Sure, it doesn’t have to be this way. But how may brides out there really funded their own wedding without parental support, without their husbands footing the majority of the bills? I doubt very many.
Dean and I are biding our time, hoping for a 1-bedroom to open up in his apartment complex. For now, we live in a spacious, high-ceiling studio with parking in Lower Nob Hill for $1,200. It’s a good deal, but I’m suffering to pay for our wedding!
The other day I said to Dean, “How bout we find jobs in New York City and live there for a couple years before starting our family?”
He said, “That would be so fun, but New York is so expensive.”
“So what? We already live in a studio apartment now. It wouldn’t be much different. It’s not like we’d live in a space that’s smaller than we are right now. We’d fit right in!”
After living in the city of San Francisco for ten years, I’m quite bored. Yes, that’s right. It’s B-O-R-I-N-G. Dean and I have been together since February and I swear to God I think we’ve eaten out at almost every single brunch spot, deli, high-end restaurant that this place has to offer. Plus, in this economy, not much more is opening up. The place is dead. You can only go to Beach, Blanket, Babylon so many times a year.
For fun, we’ve been crossing the bridges for action. Last weekend, we headed north for sleepy, but new to us Mill Valley. We had a great time eating at Bungalow 44, then ice-cream at Cici Gelateria across the street. It was just different and nice to stroll around in a peaceful neighborhood. Strolling around our neighborhood with the bums and the piss and the defecation gets a bit old after a while. I’m going stirring crazy here in the city. Not that we wouldn’t get bored in the burbs, too, but at least it’s something different. I think after ten years, I’m allowed to be bored.