About Me

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Haifa, Israel
Divorced and independent and still looking for Mr. Right in the back of the fridge.

Monday, July 25, 2016

Don't Call Us, We'll Call You...


This is what I do when someone I like doesn't answer my call... 

  1. I call everyone I know who won't answer my call.
  2. Then I call everyone who was a passing ship in the night - just to drive it home.
  3. Then I will write texts that I know won't get answered. 
  4. Then I will wallow in self-pity.
Somewhere between points 2 and 3 I remind myself that I'm better than this. By point 4 I have forgotten. 

There used to be a point 5 which alternated between buying a small appliance and eating ice cream. At my worst, they coincided. 

Now I count to 10 and indulge in a few moments of quiet reflection. 
Voila! I no longer am afraid of my own reflection! Literally! Let's go look in the mirror!!

My butt is white-girl small.
My chest bones are visible (do they have a name other than "those-bones-that-every-fat-woman-notices-on-skinny-women"?)
My hair looks well above average. 

So what if I haven't met that guy that not only wants to be with me, but I want to be with him? 

A world of opportunity is before me. 

I have shed 31 kilos so far. 

Just to be clear. 
It is not the skinny me that suddenly has opportunities that fat me didn't. It is skinny me that is shedding burdens, baggage, and every possible cliche, because I am creating opportunity. 

I am taking drastic, life changing steps to shed my debt.

Soon I will emerge a tabula rasa of sorts, never too old to start over, never too old to remake myself, never too old to correct wrongs. 

I am not quite there yet. 

But for the time being I am enjoying sitting cross-legged on a bar stool without rolling off.

Thursday, March 31, 2016

Groucho was Right.


Someone wants to have coffee with me tonight.
I had one conversation with him last night and he called me this morning.

In the course of the next few hours I will determine everything that is wrong with him.
After all, he wants to have coffee with me.

It matters little that I saw him on a dating site and I wrote to him. He answered. So something is wrong with him.

What does it matter that he turned out to be a lawyer who enjoys travelling, theater and cinema and wants to be in a relationship? He answered. So something must be wrong with him.

Here is everything that is wrong with him so far:

1.      He told me he would call me at 10pm and he did.
2.      He coughed twice.
3.      He used the speaker on his phone.
4.      He asked me if I like Israel.
5.      He asked me if I like to dance.
6.      He asked me if I go to a gym.
7.      He was impressed that I am at work at 8am

I am one step away from Elaine's famous breakup over punctuation.

Do I really want to be in a club that would have me as a member?

I'll let you know when my self-esteem gets the memo from my new thinner self advising of the changes.

Friday, February 5, 2016

Horizontal Stripes


Yesterday I almost bought a shirt with horizontal stripes. 

"Almost" being the operative word here, it's not fair to buy Horizontal Stripes without a nod to my readers.  However few you may be, you are loyal.

I soon celebrate 3 months of Gastric Sleeve surgery. At 17 kilos lighter (multiply by 2.2 for pounds), I am on the path I sought: the path of renewal, of re-affirmation, of re-defining, of re-organizing, of re-thinking. 

As heroic as it all sounds, it comes with re-prisals, re-grets, re-jection, re-tardation, and re-ally shitty moments.

  • I am thinking of changing the format of this blog, but that comes with a sense of failure about the present format. Why do I have 18,670 views and only 11 followers?
  • I am thinking about giving up my shop Carmel Gifts. Why do my competitors do so well with such ugly sites and spelling errors until kingdom come and I have only sporadic orders?
  • Why doesn't anyone click through my links to Amazon so that I can earn a few extra pennies?
  • Why don't any of the dating sites yield dates? We should rename them write-to-handsome-men-my-own-age-and-get-no-answer sites.
Take all the complaints and keep in mind that I only have 20% of a stomache. Comfort eating is no longer an option. (Read my last post...)

True, I'm already lookin' pretty hot, but damn I miss Ben and Jerry.

I now go to the gym and dare to choose a treadmill in front of the mirror. 
I now look good in jeans.
I now am DYING to run into an ex boyfriend.
I keep humming "...and Suzie wore here sweaters tight..." (Kudos to my kids who bought me tix to Elton John).

These 17 kilos in less than 3 months are only a fraction of the weight loss I can expect, only the start to actually enjoying life. 

So here we go, daring to do something different with the blog, and posting a picture of myself before and now.

And thanks for listening to me whine. I promise to be funnier in my next post.
Left, the day before surgery. Right, a week ago. Middle, somewhere in between.