It has been three weeks since I adopted my motto FWPT, and since then I have made great progress. I have not completely squashed the imp of insecurity, but I have definitely put a hurting on him. These are some of my small steps in the right direction.
1) Instead of taking time out from remodeling The Muse to change clothes, I went to the store wearing paint-covered leggings and a shirt that was far too short to cover the fatty parts emphasized by said leggings. Granted it was only the Dollar General in Bergin (population 962) , but I still consider it a victory.
2) I had a glass of wine (actually two and half) at lunch with my mother-in-law, who already thinks I have a drinking problem. Fancy that.
3) I wore a caftan to the office.
4) Despite a sign stating, “All Dogs Must Be Leashed. No Exceptions,” I let Rufus and Doc Grizzly go rogue, and run and play.
5) I didn’t look in mirror one time on Tuesday.
6) I admitted to a room full of people that I loved Barry Manilow.
7) Though I understand that theaters make most of their money on concessions, I still think $10.00 for a bucket of greasy popcorn that has more fat and sodium than you should have in month is not acceptable. So, recently when I went to see a movie, I decided to take control of my snack situation. I filled my messenger bag with a loaf of French bread, some sliced cheese, kale chips, pepperoni, and two mini-bottles of Pinot Grigio, and feasted throughout the film.
On a larger scale, I am about to embark on a new lifestyle that has required me to take FWPT to a whole new level, because quite frankly people think I’m crazy. At the end of this year, I am leaving my job with skirt! Magazine, renting out my hip downtown digs, and moving full time to the lake where I will live with Frank, two dogs, and two cats on a pair of boats named “Lakematized” and “The Muse.” I am selling the majority of my shit, including all of my stiletto heels, and downsizing by 70%. During the winter months, we will have to pump and purify water from the lake to shower. Each morning, rain or shine, I’ll have to take the dogs on the long walk through spider alley, across the dock, around the bait shop, and over to the shore to “get busy.” It’s in a dry county. The closest “real” restaurant is at Shaker Village. Sound insane yet? Well, if so, that’s alright, because it sounds like a big fun, awesome adventure to me, and FWPT.
the bourbonistA, Promoting Debauchery and stamping out political-correctness one blog at a time.