Polka Dots & Protein Bars

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

XOXOXO....Zzzzzzzz

I'm a prude. P-R-U-D-E. I always have been.

My first real boyfriend, who I actually hoped might "put the moves on" me, now has a boyfriend. I guess that explains his lack of eagerness, which is probably okay since in my 15-year old mind meant inter-digitated hand holding. Oh yeah. Regular strumpet over here.

My next romantic conquest came my junior year of high school. It was more of a "let's IM a lot but never really talk in person" relationship, but he was an absolute sweetheart, and I really should have been nicer to him. You see, that teddy bear was my first kiss, and it only happened one time during the course of a 7-month relationship.

I thought we moved very quickly since our first date was to see "The Ring," and it involved head-on-shoulder-type cuddling followed by a full-frontal hug. Oh yeah, Polka Dots, you're a hussy. I was ashamed of our fast pace, so the next few dates we maintained a steady cuddle plateau. Mr. Teddy finally worked up the courage to kiss me on date 7 or 8... man-whore. It was a brief tenth of a second, mouth-closed ordeal, yet it terrified me. At age 16 it was my first kiss.

The next time we hung out I was petrified that he'd try something a little more lingering, and as much as I liked him, I just wasn't sure exactly what to do with that, so I did what any self-respecting teenager would do... I played possum. Teddy was trying to introduce me (a Harry Potter aficionado) to the world of Lord of the Rings. There we sat in my basement in the dark on opposite sides of the couch as he inched ever closer. Was he going to try and make out with me??? I shuddered at the thought.

I had sequestered myself in a far corner of the sofa wrapped in a blanket when a genius idea hit me. He'd never kiss me if I was sleeping! Thus, I called upon my expert acting skills and fell into a gentle slumber complete with snuffles and grunts. As his curfew approached he tried to rouse me:
"Polka Dots?"
"Snnnnuffff"
"Hey, babe, I have to go."
"Mmmmm"
"Do you want to walk me out?"
"Saskjcxlskdare"
"Come on, let's go."
I stumbled sleepily up the stairs and led him out through the garage instead of the front door (the scene of our first X-rated scene - didn't want to give him any ideas). I clumsily side-hugged him (downgrade), and hurried (in a drowsy fashion) inside.

He stood there confused as I turned to go, and I felt truly guilty. I don't know why I had such a barrier up about physical contact. He was cute, sweet, funny, charming and wonderful. Needless to say our relationship didn't continue much longer. Ironically about a year after we broke up I realized my mistake and tried to reconcile, he had moved on, however - probably to a brazen whore who played tonsil hockey with abandon.

Of course the refusal to smooch recklessly is still firmly intact. At the age of 22 I can count on a single hand the number of males with whom my lips have come into contact. Now, though, instead of faking sleep, I break arms if I'm not interested.

Water Logged

Dear XXXL Woman at the Y,

I swim with a lovely coworker on Tuesday and Thursday mornings from 5-6:15. It is very crowded in there, but thankfully there are many lanes to accommodate us. I hate swimming, but I was plodding along quite swimmingly (har har) until you came rumbling in guns a-blazin'. You huffed, puffed and harumphed about why people were swimming in all of the lanes when you have taught "the same Tuesday morning water aerobics class for 16 years, and people should know to move at 6." Um, several things immediately pop into my mind, not the least of which is... you've been teaching an exercise class for 16 years and you still look like that? I mean, not knocking your class, but perhaps you should go upstairs and try some cycle, or hop in a lane before class and swim some laps. Just a suggestion. Your hell-raising, pushy, melodramatic personality, however, is certainly divine. Don't change that a bit.

Splish Splash,
Polka Dots & Protein Bars

P.S. After swimming and ellipticall-ing I was famished, and I have now consumed two breakfasts (PB&B on a Kashi Waffle - Thanks Queen Bee! And a Power Bar Triple Threat). I guess we have the same problem, huh?

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Redeemed and Esteemed

I will esteem His death by the life I lead. How blessed I am that He chose to die a brutal, excruciating death and separation from the Father, so that I don't have to. Thank you, Jesus.

This weekend has been wonderful and much needed. Time with my sister (and surrogate baby sister) on her birthday was just what I needed to refresh and rejuvenate. Below are some weekend shots.

I just received word from Little that my Louisiana grandfather (not my blood relative, but he and his entire family have been closer to us than most actual family members and basically raised my mom and her two sisters after their parents died when they were teenagers) is in the hospital. He has been having severe problems swallowing and thus has been choking often. Apparently today he had a particularly bad episode and was admitted to the hospital for tests. He has been rapidly declining over the past year or so and is so weak and feeble. Papa has lived an incredibly full and blessed life and has served such a huge role in our lives as a kind, gentle, constant presence. Maybe he'll be fine; maybe the Lord is ready to bring him home. Either way, please pray for the doctors, Papa's wife Mimi and our family.

Friday, April 10, 2009

Was 1990 Really 19 Years Ago?

Nineteen years ago, my life was made better because of this one...

Happy Birthday, Sweet Sis! I love you more than the world... even if Mom and Dad didn't name you Marina like I requested.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

T-t-t-tag

Eegads! One of my favorite bloggers, Brittney from Running in High Heels tagged me in this somewhat terrifying Come-As-You-Are game.

Here are the rules:

Take a picture of yourself RIGHT now.

No primping or preparing.

Just snap a picture.

Load the picture onto your blog.

Tag some people to play.

Unfortunately this is the WRONG day for me to play. It's casual Thursday before a long weekend, so I'm bumming it waaaay more than I usually do on casual days. I still look put together, but you seriously can't tell from this snapshot. Also, today I'm having mega allergy eyes, forcing me to don my glasses for the first time in public in about seventeen years. BUT I'll be a good sport and play along :-)

I'll also tag:
Mojito Maven
Authentically Me
Southern Sunshine
Prissy Southern Prep
Shabby Princess

I know all of you ladies are having a much more attractive day than I am!

Drafty and Chili

One night in the not so distant past, Lobster, Little Sis, Surrogate Little Sis and I all ventured to Chili's for a night of chips, salsa and quesadilla eXXXplosions. Because the Lord forgot to make me a bladder while He was perfecting everything else, I, of course, had to excuse myself to go to the bathroom. Upon entering I believed I was alone and breathed a sigh of relief - sometimes I get a little stage fright. After further inspection, however, I realized that I wasn't alone. No, standing in the corner was an older woman who was pantless... and going commando. I wasn't quite sure how to handle the situation. Was this woman making advances by going bare down there? I'm no Lohan or SaMAN. Was she senile? She didn't look old enough. Alzheimer's? She seemed too coherent. She certainly didn't seem to have any disabilities either. Do I talk to her? Go about my business? Where were this woman's pants?! She greeted me and complimented my top and lipstick choice. I nervously thanked her and ran into the stall, locking it tightly. Talk about stage fright! I definitely couldn't take care of business with Naked Nancy just outside my door. Just as it appeared that my bladder could handle it no longer, a second woman entered the already cramped restroom. When she saw Nude Nelly she immediately reprimanded her for "losing her clothes again." Together they gathered the lower half of her wardrobe and returned to their table. I returned to my and immediately recounted the story. Of course, the only comment that was made was, "Of course that happened to you," and they were correct.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Dear Peter

Dear Peter Pan Reduced Fat Creamy Peanut Butter,

I'll admit it: We've had a rough couple of years. I consumed two jars of your salmonella-infested lot, and yet, we were able to move on once you stopped avoiding supermarket shelves. Things were going great... until you disappeared again. That's when I met someone else. Your brother. Peter Pan Reduced Fat Crunchy Peanut Butter fulfills needs in me I didn't even know I had. He has revealed a whole new side of our favorite menage a quatro partners - the bread and the banana. No longer am I content with your creamy goodness on my sandwich. The hard crunchiness of your brother's bouquet is a luscious contrast with the soft bananas and Sara Lee Soft & Smooth Whole Wheat - it's a whole new level of flavor and texture. I really thought we could work this out, but I don't think we can; you just can't satisfy like you could in yesteryears. Why should my tastebuds settle for you when I can have your brother for the same price with my VIC card? Sorry, Creamy, but once you crunch you can't return to your regular lunch.

Kindest Regards and Farewells,
Polka Dots & Protein Bars

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

True Story Tuesday - Yakkin' in the Moonlight

Prom is high school’s most overrated event. I attended two proms sophomore year and one each junior and senior years, and each night left my severely disappointed – and none more than my junior year.

I had worked up the courage to ask my crush to escort me (yes, I’m still a bit mortified that I did the asking), and he said yes. I picked out a fabulous pink flirty concoction that was made for dancing. I had the perfect jewelry, perfect hair, perfect nails, a great group and a limo. Life was good.

After taking the obligatory 1,000 photos, our group hopped in the limo and traversed into Uptown Charlotte to meet a larger group with which we would dine at one of my favorite restaurants. Dinner was phenomenal. The restaurant provided customized menus with each person’s name and Providence High School Prom 2003 emblazoned across the top. My chicken dish was divine, and my date’s catfish and side of lobster grits was to die for. Literally.

After dinner we loaded back into the limo and were chauffeured to Panthers Stadium where prom was in full swing. I was delighted by the look of the room and the beauty of the crowd. I was a member of student government, so I had spent the entire year producing the perfect theme and the previous day making sure each detail was perfect.

As I worked my way around the room on my date’s arm and mingled with friends and acquaintances I began feeling lightheaded and like a migraine was coming on. Undeterred I drank several glasses of water and popped a few Advil thinking that would do the trick. No such luck. As the night wore on my ill feelings increased exponentially. The rest of our friends were rocking on the dance floor while I slumped pitifully in one of the few armchairs available – frequented by those students whose parents had force them to attend.

I had reached my limit. I found my group and apologized profusely while begging them to let us leave. My “friends” rolled their eyes, obliged, but spent an entire hour saying their goodbyes while my stomach churned, eyes glazed, head throbbed and palms sweated. I very rarely get sick, but I was in bad shape. When we finally made it to the limo I flopped across the seat with my head in my date’s lap (even in my distress I didn’t forget goal 1: score a kiss or an escalation from friend zone to more-than).

Suddenly I was hit by a wave of dry heaves, and spent the rest of the ride home begging the limo driver to pull over every few feet so I could leave my guts on the side of the road. While I know that I did this with an air of grace, beauty and dignity, I don’t think my date was impressed. My insides were screaming, and I have never felt so terrible. I took off my shoes and cried the rest of the way to my house.

When we finally arrived in my precious, precious driveway I mumbled multiple apologies to the driver about soiling the creamy white exterior of his chariot and attempted to explain that I did not drink. At all. Ever. I had simply ingested too many bites of lobster grits. I stumbled to the front door without my shoes or purse. Graciously my friends trailed behind me, belongings in hand (minus one shoe that had mysteriously disappeared – probably during stop number 42 on the side of McKee Road).

Like many a high school prom-goer I spent the rest of the night hugging a toilet, although the source of my unsettled belly was angry shellfish rather than raging hops. In the morning I opened my window to see a white limousine pulling into the driveway. The driver found my Cinderella slipper when he returned home, and like Prince Charming had returned to bestow it upon me. I halfheartedly tried to explain about the previous night’s food poisoning, but given that I looked like I was battling a mighty hangover, I doubt he was convinced.

I guess I did get my fairytale night, though. Instead of my prince being Zac Efron in a tux riding a white stallion, however, I was blessed with a uniform-wearing Rodney Dangerfield driving a puke-stained limo. Not a bad compromise.

Monday, April 6, 2009

Black... But Not So Basic

My company's dress code is, "Business casual with a creative flair." Luckily said code suits my own personal tastes perfectly. I tend to go colorfully preppy with a twist. I love bold prints, bright colors and pops of whimsy in my wardrobe. Monochromatic and dark colors aren't my tendency, although I think they look sleek and sophisticated on others.

Last week Little and I ventured to Concord Mills to raid the Banana Republic outlet with an additional 30% off coupon in hand. I came away with 4 tops and 3 headbands (compliments of Forever 21). Let me pause and point out that I have been rocking the headband since before Blair Waldorf's time, so while I now look like I'm riding the trend bandwagon I'm thrilled at the copious variety of options on store shelves. This morning I decided to wear one of my new Banana tops with a pair of my favorite gray slacks, but the end was result was a bit bland for my taste, so what's a girl to do? Slap on a statement necklace and a flowering headband and voila! Bye bye blah, good morning flair!

On another note, I was supposed to work at lunchtime but, alas, I left my gym bag at home. The weather was so pretty that I headed back to the Polka Dot Pad scooped up the Pupcake and took her to enjoy a puppy playdate with her best neighborhood friend. She had so much fun in the sunshine, and I felt guilty for taking her back in and cooping her up. After playtime I ran to Target to pick up a drink, some Fat Free Pringles (15 chips; 70 calories; 0 fat... heaven) and I finally purchased a box of 100 calorie pack Sour Patch Kids. Oh my word, am I ever obsessed. I know, I know, it's more economical to buy a whole bag, count out 100 calories and stop, but seriously? Who would be able to do that. I'm a huge proponent of individually wrapped items, and these along with the Swedish Fish will become a pantry staple. It's just the right amount to curb a sugar craving without the guilt. Perfection!

Oh! I just thought of something else (can we say RANDOM POST?), I won my company pool... $100! I've been in first place the whole tournament (thank you, Dayton; thank you, Western Kentucky), but I usually fall apart in later rounds, but with the Spartans hearing my prayers, I sealed the victory on Saturday night. Winning elicits a satisfaction in my heart that very few things can. The prize of Benjamins doesn't hurt either.

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Spring Cleaning and Making Bank

Happy Sunday, Buttercups! What a glorious weekend of warm weather we've been having in Charlotte! Little Sis was home for some rest and relaxation since she's still feeling her Mono, poor dear. Lots of baking ensued, and my tummy is feeling the effects. This afternoon has been spent catching up on my DVR and doing some Spring closet cleaning. Before I make a Plato's Closet run (oh how I despise it) I wanted to offer someone of the better things to all of my lovely lady friends for a steal. Everything is in great condition, but it's been retired from my wardrobe because it's either too short (the curse of the long-waisted), too big or is just taking up space in my closet. For more information about any of the pieces either leave me a comment or email me at polkadotsandproteinbars{at}gmail.com. All prices are extremely negotiable. :-)