Getting the Damn Cat Out of the Tree

My cats are assholes. I mean, I love them but they do really assholish things, the biggest of which is running outside behind people when they are going out. I have tried several times to reason with them and tell them that they are indoor cats, but they just stare at me. The other day one of the cats ran out behind me and I said, "Screw it!" and didn't run to catch her this time, figuring I was busy and she would come back eventually. I was going out to my Grampa's house for lunch and was already running late, so I let the kids know that one of the cats was outside and to watch out for her.

An hour or so later, while I was at my visit, I got a phone call from my kids. Now the damn cat was in a tree. Great. They were freaking out, so I told them not to worry, that she would come down on her own. When I got home later, the cat was STILL in the tree, looking down meowing at me from 30 feet up.

"Indigo, what are you doing up there?"

MEOW

"Indigo, get down here"

MEOW

"Indigo! Quit fooling around and get out of that tree right now!"

MEOW MEOW MEOW

Great again. I got out my questionably trusty aluminum step ladder and put it up against the tree. She was way out on a high branch, and she would come to the fork in the branch but wouldn't come down the trunk to me. She would get to that fork and get scared as it was straight down toward me, and i could see she sure wasn't going there. After 15 minutes of begging and calling, I decided I needed a new plan.

I went inside and called the fire department.

Me: Yeah, hi, how much would you charge me to get my cat out of a tree?

FD: Ummm we don't do that anymore. Try some treats

Me: Done

FD: Oh. Well she'll come down on her own eventually

Me: I don't think so

FD: Here's the number for the SPCA. Maybe they can coax her down.

So I called the SPCA.

Me: Hi, I can't get my cat out of a tree and I wondered if you could help me

SPCA: Try some treats.

Me: Done

SPCA: I'm sure she will come down on her own. We dont' have the resources to help you so here's the number for a tree cutter downer

Me: *sigh* ok



Next, I asked my Facebook friends if anyone had an extension ladder I could borrow. And then I waited. The entire time there was a constant MEOW from the damn cat in the tree outside, and a constant  MEOW from the damn cats answering her from in my house. I got the ladder from a friend, and drove it back to my house with my four ways on while the ladder hung out of the back of the open hatch of my van, secured by the head rest of the seat through the rungs, and a seatbelt wrapped around the end. Once I got the ladder home, I put it up against the tree and got an athletic looking neighbour boy to climb it to try to get my cat. YES!! He got close enough to her to grab her by the collar! The special snap away collar that I bought so that if she ever got caught on anything, it would immediately come off of her neck so she wouldn't strangle to death. Yeah. It snapped off. He hung his head in frustration. By this time I had five other neighbours trying to help me, and athletic ladder-climbing neighbour boy had to go.

The rest of us tried to get her to move the direction we wanted her to on the branch by spraying her with water. I tried my little spray bottle. Surprisingly enough, the handy dandy spray bottle wouldn't spray thirty feet up. Soooo out came the hose. I squirted the water toward her bum to get her moving on the branch. Nothing. I sprayed her right on her bum and she moved the opposite way that I wanted. I tried to coerce her to go the other way with more spraying. She went the way I wanted her to, but now she was soaking wet and meowing at me with fear in her poor little eyes.

All during this, another handy neighbour had fashioned a hook to pull the branch down, since she was on the end of the branch now and closer to the ground. We set the big ladder up at the fence that was under the end of the branch she was on, and got the littlest neighbour lady up the ladder to try to get her. Her arms were too short, so the kitty was just out of reach for her. Next we got my somewhat athletic son up on the ladder. He couldn't reach her either, and as I told him to just climb up higher while little lady neighbour was spraying the cat with the hose, the fence holding the ladder gave a big crack and the top of it supporting the ladder broke, sending my son scrambling down in a big hurry. At the same time, the hook holding the branch down let go and the cat fell out of the tree, hit the ground and ran like Hell. We found her and picked her up and wrapped her in a nice fuzzy towel to dry her off.

For the next couple of days Indigo wouldn't sleep on my bed, but on the floor beside my bed. And she would continuously bring me her "baby" (a stuffed chick that she likes to carry around in her mouth), and drop it at my feet. And I cuddled her and kissed her head and told her I forgave her. Wouldn't you??

The Land of Self Acceptance

A little back story: I have been struggling with my weight since I was 12 years old and I noticed that my body didn't look the same as the other girls' at school. When I say struggled, I mean I fucking STRUGGLED. So many times I stayed home and didn't go out with friends because I was so uncomfortable with my body. By the time I was a teenager, I had tried several different kinds of diet pills from green tea capsules to ephedrine. Btw, I totally get why ephedrine was banned in Canada. It gave me crazy scary heart palpatations! I exercised for hours while everyone else in the house was asleep, or I didn't exercise and then chastised myself for being fat and lazy. I have been bulimic and anorexic, either vomiting up to 5 times a day, or rewarding myself with one apple to eat every three days, depending on how "in control" I was at the time. At my lowest adult weight of 145lbs (at 5'9"), I was a size 9 and I still felt I was too big. When I look back at pictures, I see that I was not big nor overweight. I cut pictures out of magazines and pasted them in a scrapbook in order of the thinness of the models. When I became thinner than a model in the book, I crossed her out with a great sense of satisfaction. I thought this was motivational, but now that I work with paediatric patients with eating disorders, I see how detrimental all of this was to my health and my self esteem.

Even at my ideal weight, clothes have never fit me right. Shirts have never been long enough, sleeves are usually too short, shoulders are too tight, waists pinch in too much or don't fit at all. Bras have always been too tight around my chest if they fit the front, or too baggy in front if they fit around my chest. At one point I went to 2 different plastic surgeons to have consultations regarding getting breast implants. I didn't end up getting the boobs I longed for because my bank loan was rejected. Jerks. Although I'm glad I didn't get them now, at the time it was slightly devastating for my 21 year old self.

Three years ago I got very physically active again and lost weight (again), being my thinnest in years. I worked out excessively, I counted every single calorie I ate and then used an app to figure out how many calories I had burned that day. If the results were to my liking, I gave myself a star in my calorie counting book. If they weren't, I gave myself a pig sticker. I was hard on myself. I was always hungry and always tired, but the more people complimented my weight loss, the more I wanted to hear the compliments, and the more entrenched in it I became. I was absolutely obsessed. Once again, I had no life. I couldn't go out to socialize and risk eating unplanned calories, plus I had to get up at 4;30 am to work out. On days I wasn't working, I would work out twice a day. Now, I have gained weight and I don't work out at all. I have this crazy all or nothing mentality. I either do it all or I do nothing at all.

So onto my story: I needed a new winter coat as my old one didn't fit anymore. I went to all of the places that would sell one at a price I wouldn't freak out about. Also, truth be told I didn't feel that my bigger body deserved to have much money spent on it (my poor body :( )Nothing that I could afford fit me properly (there's that problem again). Sleeves too short, coat too short, too tight to zip up over a hoody. My mom convinced me to go check out Penningtons. I'd never been there because I didn't want to shop in the "big ladies store" as we had always called it. We went in and I was greeted by Jess, who showed me some winter coats. I ended up buying one that not only fit, but it makes my bum look fantastic. The sleeves were long enough, I could zip it up with my hoody underneath it. What more could I want? I had always (even at my ideal weight) been a weird size. Just a snick above a ladies XL, but definitely not big enough for a 2XL. This has always made me feel crazy self conscious. I'm not self conscious about the width of my shoulders, but I'm devastated about the size printed on the tag on the inside of my clothing. How insane is that?  I went back to Penningtons a week or so later and met Sarah. I haven't worn jeans for a couple of years, opting for the stretchy yoga type pants, and I wanted to try on some jeans to see how they fit me from this store. They were too short (an easy fix), but Sarah could sense my frustration. She showed me how I should be dressing to make myself look my best, and I learned some tricks of the trade. As mentioned earlier, the hugest bane of my existance has always been not finding bras to fit me properly. I recently had one custom made that's primo, but other than that I wear something akin to an old cut off undershirt. No one makes a bra in a 42A, and that's just the unfair way it is. Then Sarah told me about bra extenders. You buy the bra that fits your front and then you use this thing that clips onto the back to extend it to fit your measurement around. AS IF!! No, it's true! And if they make these, that means that I'm not the only person out there with this issue. If, in this store, they make sleeves longer and shoulders bigger, then I'm not alone with my long arms and wide shoulders. I'm not the only person on earth who can't fit into "normal" clothes! The feeling of relief was so overwhelming that I got a little bit teary and gave Sarah a hug. Instead of the instant frustration of clothes shopping, I felt nothing but acceptance. It may seem like a small thing, but to me it opened a whole new world of self acceptance.

I Am A Woman of Inappropriate Actions

I admit, I am a woman of inappropriate actions. I most often times do these things without thinking. And by most often, I mean always. I always do these things without thinking. It's not that I'm a huge invader of personal space, it's more like, when someone enters my bubble of personal space there is the potential for all hell to break loose. Sometimes when I meet a complete stranger I will hug them and then kiss their cheek. Sometimes I fart on the cat. I think it depends on the waxing and waning of the moon and the tides. I recently had three instances of my issue happen within the span of one week, which is a bit more than usual:

#1. I was out for lunch with my bestie. We will call him Kevin. Because his name is Kevin and I have no need to protect his identity. We were out having a nice Thai lunch buffet on a nice, sunny afternoon. I was trying new things eating the same things that I always have at the buffet because I figure, once I find something I like, why fuck around with it? My cashew chicken was a bit on the spicy side, and I drank all of my water. The waitress came along and gave me a refill. Then, along with seconds of the cashew chicken, I drank all of that water too. At this point, the waitress was nowhere to be found and my mouth was hot. Burning hot. So I drank out of Kevin's water glass. It was the only reasonable thing for me to do since my mouth was almost literally on fire. After I drank half of it, I put the glass back down in front of him.

Kevin: Did you just do what I think you did?

Me: I don't know. What do you think I just did?

Kevin: You drank out of my glass!

Me: So?

Kevin: That's gross! Now I can't drink out of it. I need a new glass!

Me: Oh please! You left a bigger lip mark on it than I did. Grow up!

Kevin: You grow up. You disgust me.

I guess some people just don't like when you drink out of their glass *shaking my head*. It's not like I used my tongue as a swizzle stick and handed the glass back to him. Oh well. More water for me.

#2. I had been invited over to a boy's house to watch a movie. (I refer to men as boys. Don't panic, he was the same age as me), This boy shall remain nameless, as I'm sure he wants to forget all about this night. I knew who he was through mutual friends and Facebook, but I hadn't gotten together with him before. I was telling my work wife, Amanda, about how this boy never contacted me again after the night I had gone over, but I wasn't sure why. Not that we had anything in common but let's fucking face it, sometimes a girl just wants to feel wanted, you know?

Amanda: So you went over for a movie. Did you actually watch a movie? Were your pants on?

Me: Yes, we actually watched a movie. My pants were on, my shirt was on. All of my clothes were on. I had no socks on, but I didn't go there with socks.

Amanda: Oh yeah? What was the movie then?

Me: *rolling my eyes* Horrible Bosses 2

Amanda: Soooo what happened?

Me: He was a smoker. I didn't know that before I went over. He asked me if it would gross me out if he smoked in front of me and I said yes.

Amanda: The harsh truth. Ok.

Me: Then he asked me if I wanted a beer and I told him I don't really drink. He had a lot of beer in his fridge.

Amanda: Ok.....so far you have nothing in common....

Me: I liked his dog. I was cuddling on the couch with his dog

Amanda: Wait, you were cuddling his dog? Where was he?

Me: He was sitting in a chair, and he came over and sat beside me. Then I put my foot on the side of his face. Like, not just the tips of the toes. My whole foot on the side of his whole face.

Amanda: Your bare foot? On his face? Why??

Me: I don't know. It just felt like the thing to do.

Amanda: What? Why? What did he do?

Me: He grabbed my ankle and took my foot off of his face. I asked him if that bothered him and he said, "Umm yeah. A little bit."

Amanda: Did you reflect on any of this before you told it to me? Because I actually get why he didn't contact you again.

I guess some people just don't like when you put your foot on the side of their face *shaking my head*.

#3. I went in to work for the night shift. The areas are divided into paediatrics and the neonatal ICU on our side. Those two areas are basically separated by a door, so I wasn't aware of who had been working the day shift in the NICU. I sat down and was chatting with the paeds day shift person and my sweet little nurse friend Heather Murphy (I have no interest in protecting her identity either) came out of the NICU. I adore Heather, and I like to think she adores me, so we tend to show affection toward each other in a platonic, non lesbian way. She came up behind me and put her arms around me, hugging me from behind. Her face was pressed side to side with mine and I quickly turned my face toward hers and kissed her cheek. I will admit that I didn't initially know who I was kissing. But a split second later when I had figured it out, my brain said a kiss wasn't quite enough, and I immediately licked the side of her face. I could tell by her reaction of yelling, "PAULA! TOO CLOSE!!" that it had been taken one step too far. My brain's advice had betrayed me yet again. Oops. I guess some people just don't like when you lick the side of their face *shaking my head*. What can I say? I'm a work in progress....

My Journey to Optimal Health: Part 2

Ah yes, my continued journey to optimal health. It's been a bit of a struggle with the decluttering as I love my stuff. So much stuff. Stuff that is so everywhere that it is suffocating. I especially love my books. Not that I've read even half of them, but I love them. They smell good, they look good, they feel good in my hands. Once I put my mind to clearing them out, I had to be honest with myself and take a hard look at what I had in my collection. There were books I had no interest in even reading, but I felt like I should. To be considered well read, one is expected to read the classics, or those (usually sappy) books on Oprah's Book Club list. In the end, I pared down 160 books and one book case. I did the same with my collection of movies and got rid of another bookcase worth of those from my home. Movies that no one watched, but could be great entertainment for someone else. And clothes too, an entire dresser of clothes gone. Clothes that I have been saving as my "inspiration clothes" to lose weight (hahaha). That's fine with a couple of pieces of clothing. but not an entire dresser full! I sold some things, and what I did not sell I donated. I'm so happy and I feel so much lighter without those possessions possessing me.

Next I decided to go for massage therapy. Since my back has been feeling so awesomely amazing from my chiropractic adjustments, I wanted to get those muscles relaxed as well (plus I have a small amount of coverage from my employer). I asked around for recommendations and decided to go see Mara Wingrove RMT. I had only gone to one massage appointment ever before so I really didn't know what to do or what was expected, but Mara was very kind and patient and walked me through everything that was going to happen before we started. My first appointment ended up being a 30 minute bit of Heaven. I was even a bit light headed afterward, which is apparently happens sometimes. I've gone back twice since then, and never asked for anything less than an hour long appointment. When I leave, I feel like I'm standing up straighter and I feel lighter. There's that word again.....lighter. I love that my tension is completely gone by the time I leave Mara's.

Mara :)

Sooooo I'd heard that volunteering does a heart good. However, the type of volunteering I like doing is the type that makes you feel good without too much work behind it. I know, I know that sounds totally self absorbed and lazy, but I actually don't care. My friend Christa had recently started volunteering at the local cat shelter, and I thought it might be something I'd like as well. I told them I would be open to fostering cats until they are ready for adoption. I mean, there are about 80 cats in that house so I figured they would benefit from the quieter atmosphere of my home. I ended up taking home a mommy cat and her two kittens. The kittens were a week and a half old and their eyes were barely open. All I could think was, I don't know what to do with these little creatures!! Yes, I'm a nurse of small people and I don't feel competent to take care of some healthy wee kitties. I have had to consult some friends with their development at times, but overall it's been a really great experience. We have had them for five weeks now and they are like part of the family :)

Sophia 

Cordelia

They sleep on me and keep my up lots of nights

My last step on this part of my journey has been to do things as naturally as possible. I got rid of all of my room freshening sprays, aerosols, floor waxes and chemical cleaners. I took them all down to the depot at the dump and started fresh. I have made room sprays with essential oils, and cleansers from mostly vinegar and baking soda. I'm not going to lie, I still have my comet cleanser (mostly out of habit), but almost everything else is au natural, including my hair spray. I feel so amazing knowing I am putting less chemicals on my body, and when I run out of laundry soap I am going to try making my own. Wish me luck!!

My Journey to Optimal Health, Part...Unknown. It Will Take As Long As It Takes.

The age of 41 1/2 I've looked at myself and my life and decided I want to make a change. My goal? I want to have optimal health. Now that's pretty broad goal, so first I had to figure out exactly what optimal health is. For me it isn't necessarily running a marathon, or climbing a mountain. It's being able to function to the best of my body's ability, with good healthy habits in place. The short of it is, I want to feel good. Now, I'm the first person to have felt the defeat of my own best intentions when it comes to attempting to instill healthy habits. How many years have I carefully written out New Year's Resolutions to inspire me on my annual journey? I'd say a conservative 35 years. Of course I'd never just write one or two things to work on throughout the year that would better me along the way. Nope, try 10-25 things. I guess I thought I was a bit of a mess and needed to work out my unending pit of flaws, especially when I was younger. This past January was the first time I hadn't written any resolutions since I was 12 years old. I'm not sure if it has been liberating, or if it's made me disappointed in myself. Is it better to work toward too much and be disappointed, or work toward nothing and remain unmotivated and unchanged? Either way I feel a bit like a failure, so I am tackling different areas of my life on a staggered schedule, rather than attempting to do everything I'd like to accomplish at once.

Week 1: The first step in my journey was to deal with my back, as at times I can't even roll over in bed due to the pain. I'll try to stand up, and my back says, "Nope, lay back down!" and goes into complete spasm. This is especially inconvenient when I have to pee. My back pain has been an issue since I was in my early 20s, but has definitely gotten worse over the past 2-3 years. This obviously also affected my ability to do a lot of physical activity, as I never knew what would throw my back off kilter and land me in bed for days. This last bout of throwing my back out was precipitated by my coughing. The one before that, from picking a sock up off of the floor. Seriously? No one should have to put up with that. My long time chiropractor  retired a couple of years ago and I really needed a new one. I asked a few people who they would vouch for, and finally decided to go with Dr. Whitney Wihlidal after a strong recommendation from my awesome marathon runner friend, Christa Davidson.

At my first visit I was a bit skeptical, as I tend to be when money is involved. "How do I know if I really need the adjustments recommended?? How do I know this doctor isn't just saving up for a trip to Hawaii??" were the thoughts running through my head. Well, first of all, he has a handy machine. It's a like a metal door frame with bungee cords running horizontally and vertically through the centre of it. At the bottom there are two scales, one for each foot. You stand normally on said contraption, and Dr. Wihlidal takes photos to show you how much or little your posture varies from the straight lines of the cords. The scales show how much your natural posture leans to one side or the other. For example, I lean 29 pounds more onto my left leg than I do to my right. Not only that, but I was sent for x-rays of my neck and spine because of past accidents and traumas affecting my neck and spine. Dr. Wihlidal didn't want to do an adjustment on me until he knew what was going on in there (can't say I blame him). Turns out that pretty much every place your spine is supposed to have that nice soft curve, mine has a straightaway (I even got copies of my crazy back pictures!). Thus, the chronic pain. Yes, I absolutely needed the proposed adjustments! My back may not get back to the exact way it's supposed to be, but in the end it will be so much better than it is now.

My daughter, Trista, with the awesome
 Sheila at the front desk

Dr. Wihlidal with his cool machine that
lets you know how crooked you are ;)

In addition to the chiropractic care I am receiving, I am to do some special stretches targeting my neck and hip flexors, which are my problem areas. I made this into a bedtime routine, and added taking my vitamins and meds for my Crohn's disease (that I never remember to take) to that bedtime routine.

Week 2: I thought my girl and I should take advantage of the gift certificates we got for Christmas from my mom and have a girls day. I booked the appointments with Ron Hill at Shadows Salon for March Break so we weren't on a rushed schedule, cause I despise being rushed. If anyone out there has ever cut their own hair and then expected a professional to fix it afterward, you'll know the look on my stylist's face when I told him what I'd been doing to my hair for the past year. Kinda like telling your doctor you eat completely healthy and exercise every day, but you're 200 pounds overweight. Luckily, Ron is tactful enough to just smile and start cutting. When Trista was done (yes I cut her hair too), she said she felt like a new woman. I showed Ron two pictures of two very different hairstyles, one of which had the front part of the hairstyle up in a braid so you really couldn't see what the actual hairstyle was. I then said something to the effect of "do what you think is best". I mean really, if I can't screw up my curly haired mop I know he never would. And from my incredible power of description, I got a most excellent haircut. Now I just have to fix up that white streak at the front of my head....sssshhhhh.....

Ron and Trista (feeling like a new woman!)

My excellent new hair

Stay tuned for next week's update on my journey to optimal health!

My Son Has the Autism. This Is Some of the Shit He Says.

My son, Trent, has the autism. Or more specifically he falls under PDD-NOS, which stands for Pervasive Developmental Disorder - Not Otherwise Specified. I say he has the autism and not that he is autistic because it is something you have, not something you are. There is no need to be defined as a person by it. He is what they call "high functioning", meaning he goes to regular classes at his high school with only a few minor adjustments such as having a longer time to write class tests. He also has a learning disability called dysgraphia which makes it difficult to put his thoughts down on paper with writing, so he has a laptop with a very cool voice-to-text program on it. This way, he can simply tell the computer what he wants to say and it writes it all out for him. He has friends, but often misses social cues (but hey, don't we all sometimes?), and doesn't like to be out in public for long periods of time.

He has this unique way of thinking that tends to make me think as well. This was one of our conversations late last year when he texted me from school:

Trent: If I ate myself would I become twice as big or disappear completely

Me: Good question. you wouldn't become twice as big unless there was another one of you. You wouldn't disappear completely because you'd die half way through eating yourself, but then if you survived it, you'd have to shit yourself out

Trent: But I wouldn't disappear so there would be nothing left but my mouth because my mouth can't eat itself

Me: Right

Trent: But then there would still be the parts that I ate so I don't really know

Me: You'd die of blood loss before it was just your mouth left

Trent: But if I didn't die

Me: True. You can't eat your own mouth. You can't double in size though because it's still the same amount of mass. It won't double.

Me: Is this for class?

Trent: So nothing would really happen

Trent: No I was just curious

Me: I love the way your mind thinks

Trent: Thank you

Yes, that's right, I thought there had to be an actual reason for his line of questioning but he was just wondering. These are some of the other things he says to me:

-If I punched myself and it hurts, am I too weak or too strong?

-If you think about it, birthdays are like a satanic ritual. Think of it this way, a small gathering of people huddled around an object that is on fire (the cake), chanting ritualistically a repetitive song in unison (happy birthday) until the fire is blown out and the knife is stabbed into the object

-Fingers are weird, they are like your arm splitting off into smaller arms

-What if when you put on a shirt your belly button screams because it's afraid of the dark

-I wonder if the Romans called their buddies "Romies" instead of Homies

-I was thinking about when I played with plastic dinosaurs as a kid and I realized that plastic is made from oil which is made from dinosaurs from millions of years ago. So technically the plastic dinosaurs are made from real dinosaurs

-What if pop cans are alive and when you take one from the pack and open it, you're snapping its neck and drinking its blood in front of its family?

-Every book you have ever read is just a different combination of 26 letters

-How do your eyebrows know when to stop growing?

-In the Pixar intro who do we just ignore that the lamp murdered the "I" and then looks at us as if he was going to say "You'd better not say a f*cking thing or you're next"?

And my personal favourites:

-What if the only reason we can't walk through mirrors is because our reflection is blocking us?

-What if oxygen was like a drug and everything you ever saw is a hallucination?

-What if we are all characters in a book and when we forget what we were about to say, it was the Author backspacing

I'm not sure if it is the fact that I'm a grown up, or the fact that he has the autism, but I sure wish I thought the unique way he does more often!

I Always Get Dumped in January

As I reminisce on the past few years, I have come to realize that the last three men I have dated have each broken up with me in January. Is this more than mere coincidence? It is part of my fate to start out each new year with a fresh, boy-free slate? Do I give terrible Christmas presents? Let's take a look at the bigger picture and analyze the hell out of this, shall we?

Boy #1

I loved him but he didn't love me. I knew he didn't love me, but I stuck around because I thought if I acted the "right way" around him he would grow to love me. If I could go back, I would say to myself, "Oh Darling, get some self esteem. You can stay in his life at his convenience with the realization that he is NEVER going to love you, or grow a set and walk away from that. You are hurting yourself beyond belief." And FYI I made him cookies for Christmas. It might not sound like much, but they are the best cookies ever made. I don't make them very often because they make other cookies feel bad since they know they could never measure up. Seriously. Plus it was one of those things where I was trying to play it cool, since I hadn't professed my undying love to Boy #1 at this point. It was supposed to be a friendly, no strings attached type of gift. But it obviously came from my heart because those cookies were a bitch to make. He got me nothing. He told me I had gotten too attached and he didn't want to see me romantically anymore on January 23rd. I remember that it was January 23rd because I said something to the effect of, "Great. You couldn't pick any other day of the whole fucking year besides the one that commemorates the death of my grandmother. Fuck you fuck you fuck you." Okay, maybe those exact words didn't come out of my mouth, but I was certainly thinking them in my head.

Boy #2

I met this boy at a Halloween party and agreed to a date even though he was wearing a costume in which his entire face was covered in dark face paint. I didn't even know what he looked like. When we met at the movie theatre I saw that he was a beautiful specimen of a boy indeed. He was younger than me. He looked as if he should be in a movie, and he could sing beyond belief. I loved kissing this boy. A lot. He was here for a few months and then moving back overseas, which I knew from the beginning. I didn't get him anything for Christmas because we had only been dating for about 6 weeks at that point and I didn't really know what the expectation was. To be honest, this boy wasn't like other boys I had dated and I found him very difficult to read, but he was an excellent kisser. Two days before Christmas, he swept me away to a motel for a night, as we did not often have time that was 100% to ourselves. He also gave me a few random things for the night away. Okay, maybe I deserved that dumping. He obviously put a lot of thought into that gift, and did some planning. I didn't hear from him for almost two weeks after our night away, only to find out that in that time he had reconciled with his ex girlfriend. Ouch! She probably gave him good Christmas gifts.

Boy #3

This was the boy I thought was going to be my forever. We were inseparable for months. We said we loved each other, and it was true. We had made future plans, and they were good. We were comfortable together. We had so much in common, we were almost the same person. And damn it, I did give him good Christmas presents! He broke up with me on the anniversary of the day I met the father of my children, who has been absent from our lives (both physically and monetarily) for many years. I greeted this news with a huge, "Motherfuck!! Like this day in history wasn't bad enough already!!" Maybe those words didn't come out of my mouth.....oh who am I kidding, I said those words. Right out loud.

After I considered the following graph, I saw that the breaking up has definitely not occurred in the peak break up times. However I am still questioning my theory that I am a subpar Christmas gift giver, as realistically it was only with good kisser Boy #2 that I really put no effort into it. I suppose it has just been a random series of events, but it is true that starting the year with that fresh, boy-free slate certainly is liberating xo