Dating While Bipolar: the wonderful world of idiocy and serial rejection

Happy 2011, kids!  It has been a veeerrrry long time since I graced my darling followers with a blog post, so your reward will be a series.  That’s right, I’m dating again, if by dating you mean engaging in various embarrassing activities in the hopes of meeting a man I might like to take on vacation.  I’ve been cool and single for years, and voluntarily celibate to boot, but I’ve realized that I’d like to find a mate, a man that I enjoy being with as much as I enjoy being with myself. A tall order for anyone, I know.  But add to that the discomfort I feel about letting someone into my life, telling them “Hey, I have bipolar and, by the way, I’m not gonna have kids so don’t worry about heredity.”  Yeah.

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Become the change you wish to see, or why I need to lose 40 lbs

On Monday I turn 38 and, as is wont to happen around my birthday, my penchant for self-reflection intensifies as I contemplate the next year of my life.  This year, I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to lose this nagging 40 pounds (okay, maybe 50 for good measure), get back into a size 8 and stay there for good.  My decision has little to do with aging or healthy living, though I do feel better when I exercise regularly.  Nor does the impending trip to Weight Watchers (or whatever program I’m giving myself as a gift) stem from a desire to fit into Lucky Jeans – plus anything sold at Express – again.  Nope, I want to lose weight because I’m not attracted to fat men.

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