the fate of this blog ...

... has been under question for some time. I think I only have about two readers and I find myself recycling stories to those few who do read it (which is exactly why one of my best friends said she wouldn't read it). So I have had to chose my blog topics carefully, especially considering I am not dodging bullets in Caracas, and I often think it's just not worth it.

Then I said today, to hell with all that madness. So I am here to write some total crap that maybe one or two people might read, finding little need to comment on it, and then we can all just move on with our lives.

I have re-entered a phase of body image obsession. It's been a while, but my tendency to overthink my weight, what I eat and how much I exercise has crept back up. See, I like to think I am the kind of girl who can eat burgers and shwill beers like any dude, with little care of calories. And to a certain degree I am, but never far from the surface is the girl who used to be chubby and is horrified of being fat when she's older.

I once had a friend tell me it's stupid to watch what you eat and if you feel like you're gaining weight, just go for a run. That's easy for you to say, at maybe 115 pounds soppng wet with boots on. But the reality is I watched my mom struggle, which I want to avoid, and I too fall into the trap of believing thin is beautiful. (For the record, I am talking 5, 10, 20 pounds here, not obesity, which is a whole different issue and evokes completely different responses from me.)

When I went to Prague, I quit caring about all that and let myself eat whatever I wanted and drink enough beer to sate a sailor. I would bet the weight gain is barely noticeable, but it's brought me back to borderline obsession of counting calories, working out every day and feeling eater's remorse after an egg and bacon sandwich at Clark's.

For all that personal, self-reflective garbage I've dumped here, I'll throw in something a little more light-hearted. I went to a bar the other night that has a small dance floor and amazing dance-party music. On one side of the dance floor, these two guys had set up something like a you-got-served circle, but they were swinging their arms like they were manning two jump ropes. And people would take a running start and jump in between them to demonstrate their best moves. When someone would ignore the imaginary ropes and walk right between them, they would pause, look annoyed and lean down to slowly, in unison, pick up the ropes from the floor. It was awesome. Just as I mustered the courage to jump in, the song was over and they didn't pick pick up the ropes again. Probably for the better.