Tag Archives: OCD

3 Reasons Why I Am a Baby

Or, 3 Reasons Why I’m Thinking I Won’t Cope Well With the Physical Challenges of Pregnancy (If and When That Time Arrives)

1. Hunger makes me cranky.

I am one of those people whose body reacts with ridiculous histrionics to any sort of depletion. One time I was hiking out of the Grand Canyon with some friends when I suffered a sudden onset of low blood pressure and dehydration. Did I just feel crappier than normal but otherwise keep on trucking, perhaps a bit more slowly? No. I fainted all the way up that accursed trail and had to be half-dragged to the top. Embarrassing. And really annoying for my poor friends. Sorry, guys. The point is, my body is sensitive. I don’t just get hungry—I get the shakes. My limbs feel like noodles. My head throbs. My tummy burns to the point of nausea. We’re talking full-scale catastrophe. And of course, in this weakened state, my irritation at silly things skyrockets. head asplodes

2. Physical discomfort makes me pouty.

You know those times when you remember your tongue and you spend a few minutes feeling uneasily aware of that big weird thing in your mouth before you can finally forget about it (you’re welcome!)? I’m that way about everything. If there’s sweat rolling down my skin, I feel every maddening drop. I feel that little wisp of hair just barely brushing my left eyeball. I feel the awkward arrangement of my legs in a chair too tall for me and the fact that there’s nowhere to rest my arms. I notice the constriction of my clothing and the slightly-too-tight sandal strap. I’m sitting here driving myself nuts over the patches of my skin that feel dry and stiff (face, lips, hands, feet). Unless these things are immediately remedied (::pauses to apply lotion::), I am too distracted to accomplish anything. But, as happens more often than not, if I’m in a situation where I can’t address the annoyance right away, I grow convinced that the universe is deliberately persecuting me.

hangnail

Upon developing a hangnail and having no immediate access to nail clippers.


3. Pain makes me want to cry and kick my feet.

The thing I hate the very most about pain is my inability to control it. In fact, the pain begins to control me—it limits my mobility, my motivation, my productivity. I become impatient at these limitations and frustrated at my helplessness, which translates into a puerile impulse to break everything in sight. Yesterday I scattered scrambled egg bits all over the kitchen because I couldn’t lift the frying pan the way I wanted to because my neck is all seized up, so I threw the eggy spatula into the sink with no little petulance. Take THAT, stupid neck.

Highly Sensitive Person

If you identify with any of the preceding statements and wonder if you’re teetering on the edge of insanity, I recommend 1) having a hot bath and calming the heck down and 2) reading this book. You’ll be glad you did.

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5 Reasons Why I Need This Bag Really REALLY A Lot

Or, 5 Reasons Why I’m Considering Selling a Kidney

The 1903 all-leather Rough & Tumble pack by MimsMaine.

1. It’s gorgeous.

The shape of the 1903 is chic and curvy—not frumpy or formless like so many other large hobo and tote bags. Also note the contrasting trim and the pretty hardware, ooh la la! And the best part is the leather. Just luscious. Designer Natasha Durham gives buyers a choice of color and customized features. ::swoon::

My leather of choice: vintage saddle. It’s warm, yet bright—versatile but neutral. Mmmm.

2. It’s huge.

It’s hard to find a large, functional bag that doesn’t look like a briefcase (blegh). I love how much space this thing conceals behind its uber-cute exterior. It’s like Mary Poppins’ bottomless bag’o’wonder. If I owned this bag, I’d enjoy settling down at a table in my local coffee shop and astonishing onlookers by removing my iPad, my phone, my Kindle, a notebook, a water bottle, a snack, a sweater, a desk lamp, and a cat.

3. It’s organized.

With most bags of this style and size, you get one big cavernous area in which your stuff disappears like space waste into a black hole. I’ve spent hours of my life fumbling blindly through my belongings inside purses like that, but I dream of a future in which peace and balance are restored–in which everything has its own little secure resting place. I mean, look at all the crap essential stuff I carry around with me every day.

Kindle with homemade case, shades (from Meijer?), Target wallet, Moleskine memo pockets file, allergy meds, iPhone, hair stuff, Clinique 50 SPF face cream, Aveeno hand lotion, compact brush/mirror, Blistex Mint Medicated, Carmex, Eos Sweet Mint, mini measuring tape, marker, Orbit Sweet Mint, keys.

There’s no off-the-rack bag in the world that could keep all this in place. By contrast, the 1903’s numerous and brilliantly placed pockets promote high-level organization and quick retrieval. In other words, it’s like a purse version of a library. ::goosebumps::

Omg. It’s…it’s so beautiful. ::chokes up::

4. It’s a cross-body.

I’m thinking of amending this list to include “My shoulder strap purse is constantly sliding off and requires incessant fidgeting and readjusting.” I was foolish, friends. I swore to myself long ago that I would only invest in cross-body bags forevermore, but a few weeks back I was tempted by the plethora of outside pockets on a shoulder bag and decided to give it a whirl. Now it’s just one more thing contributing to my slow descent into full-on OCD psychosis. Seriously, cross-body is the only way to go. When I’m out and about, hither and yon, kickin’ ass and takin’ names, I need to be hands-free. Unencumbered. Unfettered. At liberty to exercise my ninja-like reflexes. I can’t be my awesomest self with a stupid shoulder bag forever dropping onto my elbow.

Seriously. This is how I am every day.

5. It’s a backpack.

So the husband and I have been riding bikes lately, and it’s pretty much the most fun EVER. We’ve been riding them to work, which means I often need to carry a change of clothes along with my water bottle and giant thug-proof u-lock and other bicycling accoutrements. I have a small bag on the bike but I’m starting to think that for morning commutes a backpack is best. Which means the 1903 is yet again the awesomest bag ever since it seamlessly transitions from purse to pack in a second, AND still manages to look oh-so-chic.

Zombies? No problemo.

And here’s the other bonus to a convertible bag: it ups my zombie-apocalypse-preparedness. Let’s say I’m walking down the street and all of a sudden a massive-scale zombie attack erupts around me: I toss the 1903 on my back and sprint for safety without missing a beat. No flailing purse throwing me off rhythm or getting snagged on obstacles and having to be left behind in the desperate fight for survival. Plus if I’m isolated for a few days in a tree or a locked storage closet, I’ve got all the essentials with me already! Snacks, a water bottle, a phone, even keys and pens which can be used as weapons in a pinch. What—you don’t consider the advantages of a handbag in light of possible zombie attacks? Weirdo.

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3 Reasons Why I Love My Bike

Or, 3 Reasons Why I Don’t Miss My iPad One Little Bit

1. My bike is comfy.

The Electra Townie is designed so that you can sit upright rather than having to lean forward. No more back aches. Plus it has a nice wide seat, an ergonomic handlebar, and a very smooth ride thanks to top-notch materials and construction.

Who needs Angry Birds Space on a bigger screen anyway? ::stifled whimper::

I’ve ridden miles and miles without any discomfort (well, any serious discomfort—there’s no bike in the world that can manage to give its a rider a completely pain-free posterior, alas). In short, the Townie is worth the extra money, even if it means selling your beloved iPad. Which I did. Willingly. No regrets. At all.

2. My bike is cute.

I just need streamers and beads on my spokes and I’ll be all set.

Just look at that dreamy color! It’s like the bike version of a Creamsicle. Plus my wicker basket is très chic, and I have a little bell that goes ring-a-ling-ding. [Translation: Get out of my way, you stupid pedestrian, how dare you amble along in the exact middle of the path looking at your phone and listening to music with giant headphones on!? I will run your ass down fool!]

3. My bike gets me out in the sunshine.

We booknerds have a tendency to retreat into the dark recesses of our homes and develop nocturnal habits. I used to go weeks at a time without getting a good dose of the outdoors. This isn’t helped by the fact that I’m a prissy fussbudget. During any sort of outside activity, I get this creeping feeling of misery, starting with the onset of sunburn and dehydration during which my blood sugar drops and my head begins to ache and my mouth gets all parched. Next I get bitten by insects and my clothes start sticking to me and a film of dusty grit adheres to my sweaty skin and my hair gets plastered on my neck and my face feels like it’s on fire and my sunglasses keep sliding down my nose. By that point I’ve entered the sneaky hate spiral and the day is a wash. But a bike ride, by contrast, is a pleasantly cool adventure. I adore cruising around town like a boss, feeling a balmy breeze on my face as I take in the scenery and chart new routes on the fly. The husband and I have discovered all sorts of cool places this month that we had no idea existed, and last week I saw a muskrat. IN THE FLESH, people.

Wook at his widdle self. Just swimmin’ along, all like, doo-de-doo-de-doo, here I go being a muskrat.

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