Fuck Mii

I was recently told (by a bunch of fancy comedy ladies on a panel in Brooklyn) that you should write the moments you don’t want to write about... you know... that thing that happened that you are sensitive about or you felt humiliated living through, figure out how to write about that in a survivable way.  

So. Here it goes.

I started this blog with the idea that I would be more committed to living healthy if I had to remain accountable to an audience of readers.  Truth: I wanted to lose a couple pounds.  Thus, I started running and writing.  The writing lasted through January.  Th running until mid-March, because my life got busy. So, I stopped running.   

This was a mistake.

My mother came to visit a month ago, at which time it became clear to me that most of my lovely size 0 clothing no longer fit.  This became especially apparent during a costume fitting last week when I put on a pair of size 4 jeans, and broke down into tears.  Size Four?!??! What the fuck?!??! How is that my size?!?!?

Now, I can hear all of you saying, “Wah, wah, wah--Jacey has to wear a size four--her life is sooo hard! I have SOOOO much pity for her.”  Followed by  a tremendous eye roll and look of disgust.  

Hear me out, 'cuz there's more.

I have this Wii Fit.  If you do not know what a Wii Fit is... here ya go:

It’s a whole video game fitness thingy.  That thing in the picture is the “balance board.” You stand on it and exercise, but before you begin exercising, it weighs you.  Yup.   It shows you on a thermometey type guy where your weight falls: “underweight” “normal” “overweight” and “obese”

For as long as I’ve been Wii-ing my Mii (aka avatar), has been in the “normal” range. I must say, my Mii is super cute with blond curly hair, tiny perky lips and big brown eyes.  She always looks happy, with a full face of make-up as I control her  in various workouts from running, to boxing, to aerobic hula hooping.  

I’d been avoiding the Wii scale,  because I knew it was going to put the phrase, “I-can’t-zip-up-my-jeans” into a quantifiable entity, a number that would tell me exactly how far I was from wearing pants sans muffin top.  But ultimately, I overcame my fear and allowed the Wii to assign me a number.

I am not telling you the number. It’s too scary.  

But, I will tell you this: I got on my Wii last week and the little needle shifted ever so slightly from “normal” to “overweight,” and AND what’s worse is that the Wii CHANGED MY MII.  It shifted my avatar from cute, lean, and perky to balloon girl.  My Mii now looks way chubbier than the real me and it makes me want to punt my Mii right off the fucking screen.

This is an example of a Mii that has made the transition from "normal" to "overweight"
More depressing than  dead puppies.  True Story.

Clearly, this is a device manufactured by malnourished Japanese children in sweatshops, and I refuse to believe that my current weight and my new temporary dress size qualify me as a fatty, and frankly I feel like everyone in Japan can suck it and that all the people at Nintendo corporation should be ashamed.  That said,  seeing my chubby Mii up there every day was enough to convince me to enroll in some yoga classes and walk home from work every day.

So, due to my fat fucking Mii, chubby fucking Me is back to living healthy.  Do I still occasionally eat nutella straight off the spoon for breakfast?  Umm... yes sir, I do.  But now I do some aerobic hula hooping afterward.

Happy New Year!

Fall always feels like a new year to me--I mean, school always started in the fall, so that’s probably part of it... but symbolically it should be springtime when everything is blooming and getting sexy that feels like a new start, as opposed to fall where the world seems to be hunkering down.  But maybe the hunkering down is part of it, the crispness in the air always seems to say, “Okay Lady, playtime is over.  It’s time to get down to business.”  As soon as we pass Labor Day, I know it’s time to get serious.  

This last Labor Day weekend, I went to my first Jewish wedding. It was not a serious wedding.  But, it was an awesome wedding.  The Bride has been my friend since we were 8 years old and there is a closeness between us that is different from many of my other friends, because the things that happen at 3rd Grade slumber parties or during second period acting calss create inseverable bonds. 

When I asked The Bride, a girl with a flare for the dramatic and sexy and quirky, 
“What part of your wedding are you most looking forward to?” She said,

The Invitation, drawn by the Groom.

“The part where it’s over.”  

She kept her wedding very utilitarian, yet very personal--it was a small group of guests--around 80--mostly family. We bridesmaids chose our own dresses, there was no rehearsal... so we were all basically winging it. The invitation (which I believe was hand drawn by her husband and copied), read “The ceremony will be followed by dinner and awkward, but enthusiastic dancing.”  

And boy was it--you’ve not lived my friends until you’ve spent an hour Greek Dancing (her father is Greek), and Jewish Dancing with a crew of tipsy people ranging in age from 4 to 64 (let me tell you, those four year olds cannot hold their booze.)  It was an incredible day... I mean... there may have been a flash mob at her reception.... No Joke.

Less Awkward.  More Enthusiastic.

The more Jewish elements were my favorite.  I love tradition, and I loved the aspects of the Jewish faith she brought into her ceremony: the chupah (a tent under which the bride and groom are wed, which fell no fewer than four times), the veiling ceremony, the seven blessings, but I especially loved the ketubah.  The ketubah is a marriage contract drawn up between the bride and groom which is read at the ceremony.  Her Groom drew theirs and put it in a frame which was resting on the altar--a breeze caught it as I was walking down the aisle and actually blew it out of its frame, so I grabbed it off the grass and held it the rest of the ceremony. 

It’s a powerful thing holding a piece of paper like that, a promise, inspired by the promises made by thousands, millions of other couples from dozens of generations ago.  I was proud to stand by a couple so committed to one another and to the idea that it is their job to be the best possible versions of themselves not only for themselves, but for each other, and for a second I couldn’t help  but glance at my Boyfriend Guy out among  the guests, dripping with sweat in the sun of early September and wonder if one day we would write up such a contract.

Oh yeah!  I have this Boyfriend Guy!  That’s one of a million things I haven’t told you because I fell off the blogging bandwagon like nine months ago (because shit got real, yo); and I haven’t been able to get back on.  I feel as though I have broken an unwritten promise that I made to you loyal readers of my first few posts and I am sorry.

But, as the lady rabbi at my Bride’s wedding told us, in the Jewish calendar, we just ended the month of Elul: a special time, because it is the month leading up to Rosh Hoshanah (which was last weekend):  the Jewish NEW YEAR!  It is a time to reflect on all that has passed over the year and celebrate the year to come.  

And some honey... for Rosh Hoshanah!

Checking out some apples...

The last six months have been crazy and exciting and I feel like I am at a new beginning--new job, new roommates, new-ish Boyfriend Guy... and a new beginning to my blogging.

So, as a wedding gift to my Bride (a loyal reader of the blog), and my dear friend Lacy (a loyal reader getting married in a small ceremony in October), I am making a vow that I will be writing at least once (maybe even TWICE) a week, and I will not abandon you darling readers.  I will be the best blogger I can be... I’ve got some good stories worked up... you do NOT want to miss them.

L’chaim!