I came to the training house looking for a fight

Three things of which I am not ashamed.

1.) I am a recovering anorexic and bulimic.

Sometimes – although very rarely now – after I finish eating a meal, a little voice inside my head tells me to throw everything up.

Sometimes – although very rarely now – after a week of rest, a little voice inside my head tells me that my inactivity has rendered me ugly and powerless.

Sometimes – although very rarely now – I feel as though my skin is itself crawling the length of my body, and that none of my clothes fit my frame.

Sometimes – although very rarely now – I’m afraid to leave the house for fear of others looking at me.

Sometimes it’s hard.

Every day it’s getting better.

One foot in front of the other…

2.) I firmly believe in the importance of first impressions.

Don’t get me wrong, I also believe in second chances, but nothing leaves a mark like an awkward or obnoxious round one in, shall we say, the boxing ring of life.

And in the end, after the bell has run twice, if I still don’t warm to you, I’m probably not going to stick around and try to play-act nice.

I’ll probably just punch your lights out.

(I kid, I kid.)

I mean, I’m not going to treat you like a right-arse, or anything to that effect – I will be polite, or professional, or formal (or a combination of all three), but then I’ll get the heck out.

My cat is also incredibly picky about the individuals with whom she associates.

Plus, if I don’t dig your style, you probably don’t dig mine. It’s a mutual thing, right? It’s not me, it’s you – and vice versa.

I fight tooth and nail for those that I love (in said boxing ring of life), and I put a ton of energy into championing them and their causes. As such, I would prefer to invest my time and resources into helping those individuals.

I am finally at a place in my life where I have stopped completely wrecking myself over what others think of me (I am now known to only marginally wreck myself.)

And I’d like to keep going down this path.

3.) I love, LOVE pop music.

I sing along to Carly Rae Jepsen ALL THE DAMN TIME. On repeat.

I like Robyn.

I like Lady Gaga.

I like LMFAO.

(Seriously, everyday I’m shuffling.)

I love cheesey, dance-crazy, pump-up-the-radio-and-SING music.


And if you ever pull up next to me in your car, at some random stoplight, betwixt the months of June and August?

You’ll see.

There’s no power in the ‘verse can stop me.

A new order

Heading into the start of this week I’m definitely feeling a little better, a little brighter and little less like Phil from the warehouse with the pains in his head.

Don’t know Phil? Let me introduce you:


All in all, while I may not be in tip-top condition (or Phil’s for that matter), I’m not about to keel over either.

Side note: M really doesn’t know what to do with Kids in the Hall (whereas they sit firmly in my list of top comedy geniuses of all time.) He told me yesterday that he has a hard time taking anything produced in the 80’s seriously, particularly stuff made in Canada (re: by the CBC). This is both hilarious and devastating to me, especially because I’ve just discovered that old school episodes of Degrassi are now available on Netflix. For me, that stuff is 24 karat gold nostalgia – what memory lane is paved out of! (You know, that and The Goonies.)

One point of note (or perhaps, one two-pointer point of note) regarding this recent spat of illness is 1.) this is the first time, in a long time (almost two years), that I had been sick for more than two consecutive days, and 2.) despite this fact (or perhaps because of it), I have not pushed my body into working out, or going for a run whilst still in the clutches of this congestion, fever and fatigue.

This may not seem like that big of a deal, but for me, the more I think about it, the more aware I become of the positive implications I can derive from this decision.

See – I cannot even begin to count the number of times I have gone to the gym in the past, plagued by aching bones, clogged sinuses, and high temperatures just because I couldn’t handle the way my skin felt due to the length of time it had been since my last workout.

Going more than a few days, particularly while sick, without physical activity was an excruciating, live-action nightmare.

Now, I understand that I haven’t written extensively on my past struggles with food and exercise, but suffice to say that they were long-endured, damaging and incredibly complex.

And exercising (whilst ill) was just one symptom of my disease.

It is only now that I am into a period of recovery (I actually like to think of myself as living “clean”, in so far as I cannot view my eating disorders as anything other than what they were – addictions) that I actually can even step back and objectively look at my behaviour both then (disordered) and now (healthy) and feel okay about both.

Where exercise was once an agent of my disorder, it is now an antidote.

Edit: When I say that I am “okay” about my past behaviour, I am in no way condoning those choices or behaviours. What I am trying to communicate is that I am able to reflect on that destructive period my life, and not beat myself up over decisions made, or, more dangerously, fall back into old patterns.

I am okay with looking back; I am okay with moving forward.

I am okay with making, and keeping myself okay.

Yesterday M and I ventured outside of our little house, in an attempt to stave off cabin fever and to procure new passport photos.

Whilst at the mall I came across the following window display outside of The Gap:

I. don't. understand.


What the FRESH HELL is a “sexy boyfriend” look?

What does that even mean?

YO AD EXECS! Can’t we leave gender alone for like, two minutes? It’s confusing me! And good ol’ J. Butler never accepts my collect calls anymore.

Also, something tells me that the marketing team over at Gap Inc. sure as sunshine won’t be releasing a “SEXY GIRLFRIEND” look for their men’s department any time soon.

Oh! You mean, the "SEXY BOYFRIEND look". I though you meant the "LOOK SEXY FOR YOUR BOYFRIEND" look. I mean, that's the only reason to wear clothes, right?

Because, jeeze, what self-respecting guy would ever want to dress like a girl?


I mean, what about ladies that don’t have boyfriends? What about ladies that have girlfriends? What about ladies with un-sexy boyfriends?

I may be kidding here folks, but seriously NOT THAT MUCH.

Why can’t girls wear just pants and sweaters without it being about BOYS AND SEX AND FEMININITY AND MASCULINITY ALL THE GOSH DARNED TIME?

And seriously, when the frick were pants re-appropriated by the male sex?  And the SEXY contingent of the male sex at that?

(I’m so sorry to inform all the fugly gentlemen out there, but it seems that you are no longer allowed pants within the confines of your wardrobe. Unless, of course, you want to be accused of co-opting the style of your sexy peers, then by all means, go for it. You’ll be in good company.)

Sometimes I feel as though I am living in a bizarro world.

At least I now understand what that lady was talking about each time she told me to “mind the gap”.

And I’m telling you, sexy boyfriend-less legs and I?

We mind.