Memoirs of a Fat Girl

Around this time every year, I make a checklist of my life and see what's gotten better or worse in the past 365 days or so. I do this to be unnecessarily hard on myself. I also do this because in a few days, it'll be my birthday.

Birthdays for kids are fun. They are cake, presents and parties. Birthdays for adults, or, birthdays for me, have become more of a pressure-fest. I still totally dig the cake, parties, presents and nowadays, restaurant outings, sangria showers and overall good times, but my birthday has morphed into something else. It is that yearly milestone day for me to have achieved or failed certain goals, or just to be at an overall great place in life.

For example, my 21st birthday was pure suckage. I was fat, really fat, didn't have a boyfriend & wanted one, and didn't know what the hell I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I was depressed all the time, I cried all the time, and was confined to factory work for the summer.

My 26th birthday was absolutely awesome. I'd just graduated with my second degree, was skinny, gorgeous, and had a boyfriend who adored me. I'd just gotten back from an amazing L.A. trip with him, was about to go to Chicago with him and, in two months time, would be moving to Prague for my internship.

Can't get much better than that.

Last year, for my 30th birthday, I was in a rocky relationship, lived in my parent's basement, and hated my job. Getting out of bed every morning was work, pure work, because there was nothing to look forward to.

Thus, to make things easier, I had only one request of myself: 30 would be the year that I let all my issues go. Not necessarily work through them, understand them or ponder them any longer, just let... them... go.

In four days, it will be my 31st birthday. I have no relationship, live in my parent's basement, and hate my job. I haven't even come close to shedding the poundage I've wanted to, have come nowhere near finishing that freaking cookbook, my loft is bare, and my desk is a mess.

Poopy.

There is more, though. Not too long ago, I got back from the trip of a lifetime. My sister is getting married. I have the greatest dog in the whole world and, every morning when I get out of bed, things seem a little lighter.

Not to say I've found my way. I probably won't even have done that when I'm pushing up daisies, but for now, for some silly reason, it's all... good.