Everybody poops.

January 14, 2011

Ok, I haven’t updated in a week. I have, however, been reading many different types of blogs. A few things that I gleaned from my hours of computer caused eye strain:

  • Talk about your life. People are somehow more interesting when they talk about themselves on the internet, which is kinda funny considering that I find people who talk about themselves in person or over the phone rather boring.
  • Be yourself. Don’t put up a post just because you need to say something. Put up a post when you have something to say.
  • Be funny, if you can. There is one popular blogger that has a strong following but I find the blog utterly boring. No sense of humor. Always makes the right choice. Doesn’t drink too much. Shops within a budget. Wears preppy (read: boring) clothes. After about a week, I dropped out of the daily updates. If you are going to make a living simply by showing the world what is on your dinner plate, at least bring a little pizzazz to your life. I don’t want to buy the drinking glasses you endorse unless I know that occasionally you use them to chug down a few too many vodka tonics and flash partygoers your underpants.
  •  Don’t be cheesy or childish. Every blogger that uses cutesy nicknames in place of normal words (such as sammy for sandwich) makes me want to smack their typing fingers. Hard.
  • Put up quality pictures. Stains on your placemats are not sexy. It doesn’t make me want to visit your house or stick your food in my mouth.

A few days ago I tried to catch up on my posts by consolidating all of my food descriptions for five days into one post. About two hours in and only half way done, I gave up. And last Friday I was pissed. For no reason. Just was. That funk lasted for four days. Then yesterday, when I realized that I wasn’t posting and had skipped writing in my food journal, I stopped taking pictures of my food. There was no need. Recognizing that without counting cal/fat/cho and actually showing what I ate, I wasn’t cloaked in responsibility. I could eat whatever I wanted and in whatever quantites I wanted. So I did. I gorged. Brownies, dark chocolate caramels, veggie pizza, Klondite bar, chips, cheese, diet coke, diet coke, diet coke. It’s not that my stomach is a bottomless pit, or even that I didn’t feel full. I did. I didn’t care. Even this morning I ate breakfast, then crackers, then 3 cookies. I have a degree in psychology but it doesn’t take a genius to recognize that I’m an emotional eater. I have been extremely stressed lately and constantly go from no appetite to not being able to pull my head from the feed bag. It’s something that I’m aware of and I am tuned in to the problem.

I’m also aware that my blog doesn’t quite have an identity yet and I hope you’ll stick it out with me while I figure out what works best. I do enjoy sharing my food and I hope to start posting some photo-guided recipes but I’m not 100% that I’ll be posting food counts on a daily basis. Pioneerwoman advises that you should tend to your blog everyday, and this is what I hope to do. Some days, such as today, I may just leave a question, an explanation, or a funny story. Which gets us to the reason of today’s post title.

I work at a company that has six office employees, numerous field employees, and no insulation in the bathroom walls. My office shares a wall with one of the two bathrooms in the building. Both are one person bathrooms. Every day, I can hear all of my co-workers’ bowel movements. To say it is disgusting is putting it mildly. Yesterday, a co-worker hung out in the first floor bathroom for a full twenty minutes, all the while knowing that I could hear his musical performance AND that I was eating my lunch a mere ten feet away. One co-worker in particular seems to enjoy frequenting the bathroom (I’m talking four poops on average in an eight hour work day). Obviously, something is misfiring in her innards but I’m not going to be the one to ask if she has irritable bowel syndrome. Knowing that the walls are paper thin and every fart, gurgle, and “Oh, my!” (which she once uttered) can be heard by anyone within a thirty foot radius (an adjoining office and the copy machine are also near the bathroom), I muster up the strength to save my business for home (even though I eat a high fiber diet). On special occasions, such as today, I am the only person in the office and I treat myself to a bathroom break if needed. Of course, on the few occasions that this has happened in the past, something goes wrong. A co-worker unexpectedly returned to the office and came looking for me. The hot UPS guy had a package and walked straight back to my office to find me (which is far from the office lobby, where he could have politely waited). Today was no exception. The phone rang the minute I pulled my pants down. I struggled to get out of the bathroom. After four quick rings, the answer machine picked up. Can you imagine returning your boss’s  call with a “Sorry, I was in the bathroom”? It’s quite clear what I was doing in there.