Complicating matters more...

I 'd like those words silk-screened onto a T-shirt. Size Small. Seriously.

So lately, I've rambled on and on about my minor but constant 'struggle' with thinness...or skinnyness, if that's a word. Or rather, the over-awareness of it by the 40-ish women I work with.

At work today, I took a tooth-brush break in the ladies room after lunch. As it happens (to me), I couldn't find my toothbrush, so i went with the toothpaste-on-the-finger approach to dental hygiene and fresh breath. I'm in the ladies room, doing just that, when one of my editors walks in. She stops and stares at me for a second with shock and horror in her eyes just as I'm applying finger and toothpaste to my tongue. uh oh. My first thought: "damage control." I quickly remove the finger from my mouth, spit the foamy residue into the sink, and say "Ohh, hi! The chicken I ate for lunch was SO garlicky, and I can't find my toothbrush, so the finger will have to do!" Which is the truth. She laughs, perfunctorily. And then said...Wait. I don't know what she said. It was a mumble of nothingness, as she stood there staring at me for another 30 seconds that felt like 5 minutes, with a mother's concern in her eyes. I wanted to say "I'm OK...even though I'm sure it looks like I'm purging. ha ha!" That didn't happen. She walked into the stall..and I finished up, reapplied my lipstick, and made haste.

I'm still thinking about it, obviously. And wondering just what she was thinking when she walked through the door. Something a thin girl never wants to be caught doing is poking her finger toward her throat. But perhaps this is my overactive paranoia sculpting some form of irrational hyper-vigilance. It's likely, this woman walked in and saw me finger-brushing my teeth, a somewhat private act, in a somewhat public restroom and was skeeved out. yeah, that's probably it...

when you have the opportunity...

...to carpe diem and enjoy these first days of Spring, do it! Choose a day in the middle of the week, and call in sick (or take off in advance, if you're more responsible than I am). Don't log onto to your email (though, you can log onto your blog if you must). I insist.

And if you live in or frequently visit NYC, check out the sunbathing seals and boat rides in Central Park, take the bus down 5th Avenue (it's the cheapest tour you'll ever take), buy a good book for park-bench reading, try the Vanilla Rum gelato (skip the Guinness-flavored one. Yes, Guiness, the beer) from Il Laboratorio Gelato, and kiss someone (be sure to ask first).

Work has allowed me no time to think full, free-flowing, unscheduled thoughts about...well, whatever... so today, I had no time for work.

p.s. Il Laboratorio Gelato is opening a larger shop this summer, and this, my friends, is a very good thing.

p.p.s. RIP Alex Chilton. 59 is way too young to die :-(

Photo: keanerdotnet

blame it on daylight savings time.

"I have my own insecurities, I don't have the wherewithall to deal with yours, too" ...is what I should have said. I almost regret posting yesterday, only i don't believe in regret. Still, I say this because almost immediately after hitting "publish," I felt my insecurities being splashed across the computer screen like wet paint. Insecurities are that way...they stain us...they stain our world, and if we blog, at times, they stain that, too. If we let them.

That's really all I wanted to say.

oh! how i try hard to keep my karma clean...

...and not to routinely think terribly rude and unkind thoughts about others—not counting nyc subway riders. But today, I need to vent. Here goes:

A woman who works with me, in a senior position, came into my office for a meeting during which the conversation trailed off into a discussion about her gym and how she's not sure she'll keep her membership because the people there are muscley, crazed maniacs. Then she says, "I hate the women at my gym. They're all skinny. Just like you."

Hmmmm. I wouldn't take offense, except I hear a different version of this almost every week from a woman at work. It's not-so-much that it's offensive, but more that it makes me considerably uncomfortable when someone comments on my body—unless of course, we're good friends or sleeping together. So, what if I said something like, "I really don't like the women here. They're all pretty fat. Just like you."

It's not at all me to say something like that—I'm much much more likely to comment on a woman's shoes or hair—not their weight. But, just to prove a point, would that be wrong?

On a side note, I'm no idiot... I realize that many cultures (and fashion magazines) regard "skinny" as the ideal body type, so perhaps she meant it as a compliment. And perhaps it's the negative connotations that come to mind when I hear the word "skinny" that chip away at my self-confidence. Growing up, in a black neighborhood, with black women and black relatives drilling into my psyche that "skinny" wasn't a good thing...wasn't healthy... wasn't the ideal—I admit to having unresolved issues with the word. Yet "slim" or "thin" or "svelte"—don't hurt one bit...in fact, I prefer them. I need to think on this more, and perhaps consult with some of my slim-thin-svelte girlfriends. Or maybe even Randy Cohen.

Stay tuned. Oh, and tell me what you think!

I just ate a half-melted section of Kit Kat from my purse.

But in my defense, it was still in the package, and there were no visible lent or dirt particles present. Is that gross?

Anyhow, speaking of defending my indiscretions ...

I truly-deeply wish life will slow down a bit...so I can post! And by "life" I mean, work. At least 90 percent of my life lately is work. The other 10 percent consists of time-spent-with-loved-ones/sex/yoga/eating/going to the bathroom...oh, and sleeping. How sad is that? If only I could blog about myself for a living.

Speaking of which, I've watched all but the last 10 minutes of Julie & Julia, and even if you don't love/admire/respect Julia Child (and I do), you should see it. I mean, if you like food, particularly, rich, gooey, drippy, buttery, meat-centric food, I suggest you click-and-add it to your Netflix queue. Of course, I can say a little more after I finish watching it. WARNING: It will make you hungry.

But again, I want to post. That's my uppermost goal this week...and I have at least 2 juicy ones in the pipeline. And by juicy, I mean love-speckled and slightly sappy. So, until then, I bring you the Oscar-winning animated short Logorama. It's truly brilliant and worth the 16-minute chunk out of your life. If you watch it and think otherwise, tell me why...because I can't imagine who could hate this film....well, except maybe Ronald McDonald.