The unedited ramblings of some girl who's winning...at everything.

It's been one month. Working with a personal trainer is probably the best thing that has ever happened to me. At the end of the long sluggish, I've got nothing to do but be a girlfriend, summer, I realized that the one thing that got me into, through, and out of a pretty strenuous university, had almost nearly been beaten absolutely positively out of me.

I used to think that I could do anything.

Maybe it was a long school year of perfectionist meets 75 wound-up alien children, or the move to a new location--or the, etc., so forth, and forever. Sure, maybe those things did me in. But do they really matter? Nah!

I've got the worst behind me.

I just needed someone to tell me what to do so I would do it.

We had a lock down drill during fourth period yesterday--you know, when you pretend there's an impostor with a machine gun roaming the building, so you lock the door, cover the window, stow the students in the corner, and pray to heaven they don't make a sound.

They were silent.

Victory!

I'm dressed like a little kid who bought her clothes one size too big because she's going to grow. I'm always short a safety pin.

It's pleasant, really.

I put on the dress that Uncle R bought for me to wear to the opera. No date? I'm going anyway. I'm going to wear that dress, and the red heels R bought me.

I once applied for a position with an online journal as the Salt Lake Single Ladies Representative. I'd taken on too much already, and opted out of the final stages of interviewing. Maybe I'll look into that again.

At Pilates I thought I feel great!

I looked in the mirror and said:

Dang girl. You're looking good. Look at that waist.