Yogarazzi

Being the fitness enthusiast that I am - I often try to make it to a lunchtime yoga class at my gym. My type A personality tells me that yoga is boring and a complete waste and that if I actually got my ass to the gym for once I should really be doing straight up cardio the whole time. But the pain in my joints and muscles is telling me that I really need to relax and focus more on stretching and such. Besides, I have totally perfected Child's Pose and Corpse!

I digress. Anyway, so I went today at lunch and the only space left in the studio was right beside the door. I was upside down in one of those embarassing, convoluted positions that not even my own husband has been privy to - and I look up and see a camera in my face. No Joke! There was a woman pointing a camera at me through the narrow window beside the door.

Seriously! It's hard enough just living a normal day without the paparazzi trailing me everywhere I go, hoards of fans wanting my autograph, people interrupting my meals to take pictures with me, etc. I realize I live my life in the spotlight, but is it too much to ask for people to treat me as a human being? I just want to be able to live a normal life and go out in public as I please without feeling as if my privacy has been compromised.

Ok, back to reality:

Right....so, anyway...you probably realize just by glancing at my blog header that I am not camera shy by any means, but this completely threw me off. I figured it was someone taking publicity photos for the gym, but, ummm....I don't recall signing a release form with my membership that mentioned being able to take pictures of my sweaty, nasty, ass and posting them anywhere to lure in new victims, I mean, other individuals devoted to a healthy exercise regimen.

So much for relaxation!

Namaste...

Touch My Food - I'll Bite Your Hand Off!

You know what makes me really cranky? Those restaurants that have the "family style dining" concept. You know what I'm talking about - where everybody orders something, but then passes it around and shares it with everyone else and it's supposed to be one big, happy, fun, family.

Here's my problem - I'm PICKY! Yes, I admit it. Everybody else always orders something that I wouldn't touch with a 10 ft. pole and I order the ONE thing that I will eat. And then everyone proceeds to eat off of my plate and continues to push their disgusting food in my face wondering why I won't eat it. Then I don't have enough to eat which makes me even crankier than before!

I've found myself at this type of restaurant a couple of times now in work situations, which makes it even worse because:

1. I am trying to be polite and business-like and don't want to come off as a whiny brat


2. Work dinners are always late in the evening and I am already starving


3. Work dinners always consist of 5,000 people at the same table


4. Having 5,000 people in your party always means that it will take 5,000 years to be seated


5. Then it takes 5,000 years to order


6. Which then means 5,000 more years until your food actually shows up


7. By this time I've had approximately 5,000 alcoholic beverages because there is nothing better to do while I wait and endure polite work chatter


8. Alcohol makes me even hungrier than I was before


9. Everyone else makes comments regarding the fact that I must not be hungry because I'm turning down their offers to eat all of the disgusting crap that they've ordered


10. By the time everyone else eats all of MY food, I am: drunk, angry, hungry and tired. And then everyone wonders why I look like I'm in such a bad mood.
    

So, the moral of the story is - touch my food and I will bite off your hand!

Does anyone else have this problem? Am I just a picky bitch and need to learn to get along better in society? It's ok - you can tell me the truth!

Soulmates

It was love at first sight. Our eyes met, we smiled, we spent the whole evening finding out that we had more in common than we ever thought possible. An instant connection.

We laugh at the same jokes, like to ride in fast cars, sing really loud along with Mick Jagger, team up to do artwork, yearn for a trampoline in the backyard and want to take home every kitten that we see in the pet store.

She looks up to me, mimics my expressions and tone of voice. We have the same shade of blond locks and bright blue eyes. No one would doubt for a second that she wasn't biologically mine. She's not, but I sometimes forget because I never knew before that it was possible to love a child so much. To be so connected in every way to someone who doesn't share my genes. She is my husband's five-year old daughter - my chica.

Last week I picked her up at daycare and she pointed to a sign hanging off of her cubby with a piece of tape. A picture of flowers and hearts drawn in crayon with "I Love You Glamour Girl!" written across the top. My heart melted. I went to take it down to take home with me. "No! You have to leave it there forever so you can see it whenever you pick me up so you know that I love you!"

Tears welled up in my eyes. I looked down at my Chica and her expression suddenly changed, "Mom says I have to make one for her too" as she shrugged her shoulders.

It's not always easy being a step-mother, but I have to keep reminding myself that it's not biology that makes someone a mother - it's the quality of the relationship and the connection of the people involved. Soulmates often come in a different form than you expected and I was lucky to find one of mine last year in this beautiful little girl.