Of Wedding Dresses and Losing Weight

I think I might have to stop donating to the gym and start using it for real.

Allow me to explain.

A year and a half ago, or two months after my then-boyfriend (and now-husband) finally realized he couldn't live without me and asked me to marry him, I went to David's Bridal with my sister with the sole intention of just-to-look. We came to the door, and were greeted by a saleswoman who's got a very strong persuasive power she'd probably convince Rush Limbaugh to become a Democrat. I told her what my intention was, and off she went to bring out dresses I could try on. I did, and one dress in particular caught my eye and sent my heart into a frenzy flutter. I knew right then and there it was the ONE. I just have to have it! It didn't matter that we haven't set a wedding date at that time. Between the saleslady's strong persuasive powers and my typical shopaholic's ability of turning just-to-look into i-gotta-buy, I knew my willpower's at the losing end. Well... I don't have to tell you how that battle played out.

Fast forward to the present.

I ended up just having a preliminary civil wedding, and since I didn't wanna look like a crazy, overdressed bride walking around the courthouse, I decided to wear a short, simpler dress. I figured I'll just wear the ONE when the right time comes.

Unfortunately, I didn't take into consideration what a year of marriage does to people... it makes you gain weight!

So yesterday, I was trying on my size 2 wedding dress when I realized... que horror, I couldn't get into it!!! This naturally resulted to me screaming for Hubby at the top of my lungs he thought I cut off my arm or something. With his help and some belly-tucking and breath-holding, I finally got into my dress. It still fits, although obviously... just barely.

So now, here I am, onto my 35-day mission of losing at least five pounds before our vow renewal ceremony. I'm starting tomorrow. Let's see how long will I last. If you haven't guessed yet, I'm not a fitness buff, but right now, I've got the motivation!

Needless to say, my husband - the workout junkie, was so happy, he's thinking of renewing our wedding vows every year. You know... if that's what it takes to get me to the gym.

If You're a Mistress of a Man You Knew Is Married, Do You Deserve an Apology?

I've had enough of this Tiger Woods drama, as I'm sure you are too. I wasn't actually planning on writing anything about the whole saga, because frankly, I think his personal life is supposed to be that... personal and private. I think we should just care about what he does in the golf course and nothing else. But the latest development had me boiling to the core that I just felt a  terrible need to talk about it. (This would be my first and last post about this, I promise!)

The thing is, his alleged mistress is demanding a public apology from him. When I heard this, my intial reaction was... What? Say that again? She wants an apology, like she deserves one? Her Hollywood lawyer (Gloria Allred) explained that he should, because he pursued her, lied to her, told her she's the only one, blah, blah, blah.

Now, wait a minute, you sad, pathetic woman! Don't tell me she doesn't know that Tiger Woods have a wife and children! It's only all over the news since they got married! Unless she's making porn movies cooped up in a shack in Timbuktu, there's no way in hell she doesn't know he's married. Why don't the two of you just  tell us honestly what you really hope to gain by doing this?

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not on Tiger Woods' side either. Frankly, I think he's a douchebag for cheating on his wife. I've been cheated on before and the experience left me with such a bitter taste, that my resulting hatred for cheaters continue to run through my veins. The pain of heartache coupled with the pain of betrayal was too much to handle that I almost had a breakdown. I had moved on since then, but I can't say, even after four long years, that I have completely forgiven the guy.

However, I also think that if you knowingly enter an affair with a married man/woman (or someone in a relationship), you're as guilty as the cheater. You're officially a homewrecker! I know sometimes it's hard to choose who to fall in love with, but you don't have to let your heart (or crotch) rule over your head. Your brain is on top of your body for that reason! If you do, then don't expect any sympathy. Especially if you're a woman like her who's probably not even in love with Tiger Woods, but only after his money and fame. Show some dignity, woman!

My dear friends, what's your take on this? Discuss.

For the Love of Dancing

Last Saturday, after days of constant prodding and promises of nudity, I finally convinced the Hubby to take me dancing. The last time I've been to a dance club was when Justin Timberlake was still trying to bring the sexy back (which is like three years ago, when I was still in graduate school), and I just felt this terrible need to release my pent-up dance energy. Next to shopping and eating ice cream, I love, love, love dancing! Unfortunately, I married an old soul trapped in a hot, young body who doesn't. Well... at least, I was able to convince him to take me.

So off to the club we went.

A minute after we started dancing, I finally understood. The poor guy can't dance for the life of him! (This is a sort of thing I should have known during the wedding dance. Unfortunately we didn't have one). At some point, I think I might have laughed at the way he danced that he decided he has done his husbandly duty of pleasing me and just stood beside me watching me dance. And no amount of prodding and begging could make him dance again.

But I decided that nothing can ruin my night. Who knew when the Hubs will take me out again?

So I continued dancing around him, oblivious to anybody who might be watching.

And there I was, dancing happily and uninhibitedly, when my eyes came into contact with a guy who winked naughtily at me. All of a sudden, I realized how I must have looked like dancing sexily around a standing pole of a man! I looked around and sure enough, I gathered a few interested audience. Slightly embarrased, I told the Hubby to start dancing or else...

After that night, I came home with two realizations... (1) that it's better to take my girlfriends next time I go clubbing, and (2) that I might have discovered the perfect back-up job in case this Chemistry gig doesn't pan out.

 

 

I'm Married to a Smart Ass

I told The Hubby last night that I wanna be a Product Manager or Techology Director in the future. My number of years pretending to listen to my boss (or any boss for that matter), and imagining giving him the finger when he's being a jerk, is almost close to its limit. I'm contemplating on pursuing an MBA to help me in my quest, or maybe applying for a Lab Manager position as my next step. I'm pretty much tired of being micromanaged most of the time.

My sweet, ever-supportive husband decided to encourage me.

"Sure Honey, I think you should go for it. If you need recommendation, I'll even give you one. I, for one, can definitely vouch that you're good at bossing people around!"

Olympic Fever

I turned on the television to watch the Olympic Games the other day, and was greeted by the sight of two men - who I thought were part of the cleaning crew- sweeping the surface of an iced court. (Talk about clueless!). Okay, it was breaktime... or so I thought, until the crowd started cheering loudly. I focused my attention on the screen and paused...wait a minute... am I actually watching a game?!! Could it really be... that I'm watching an olympic sports?

Turned out, I really was. It's called curling!

I couldn't understand how it could be an event, but whatever, I decided to watch it long enough to get the hang of it. And soon enough, I did understand the basics... one guy has to slide a stone down the ice, towards the center of goal, while his two teammates help guide the stone using a broom or a brush or whatever its called.

To be honest with you, I spent the first 24 years of my life not caring a hoot about the Olympics. Or any sports for that matter. I grew up as a bookworm who was always buried in books and involved in academic competitions (I sound so boring as a kid, don't I?). But one fateful day, six years ago, I turned on the television and saw Michael Phelps's hot bod, swimming gracefully and oh-so-fast in the water, it was almost unbelievable! Soon enough, I found myself watching each and every one of his events. And then some. And before I knew it, I was hooked. On Michael Phelps and the Summer Olympics.

So now, here I am, venturing into the Winter Olympic World as well. Although definitely not with the same passionate enthusiasm! I do love figure skating, speed skating and snowboarding, but curling? Not a big fan.  Oh well... maybe I should just really open my mind, and accept the fact that Olympics doesn't just revolve around  half-naked and very hot men in swim trunks hurrying to get to the finish line, or gorgeous guys in shorts kicking the ball to score a goal!

Anyway, what's your favorite summer or winter olympic event? Anybody who's a big fan of curling? Maybe you can enlighten me more about the game.

The Domesticated Wife

Yesterday, since Cleveland was being hammered with snow again (like it's something new!), and the Hubby had a doctor's appointment that I had to tag along to, I decided to declare it my holiday and take the day off. I figured it would also be the perfect time to show him that I'm not just a sweet, smart and pretty wife (hey, this is my blog, I can say anything I want!), but a domestic one as well. I wanted him to think he  married the perfect woman -  moodiness and crankiness aside. You know... in exchange, for being an awesome husband and sending me a beautiful bouquet of flowers at my work!

So right after I woke up, I decided to clean the entire house. I took out the vacuum cleaner, the mop, and all the cleaning supplies. Halfway through vacuuming however, the darn machine decided to break down. With almost two-thirds of the house done, I opted to just move to the next task. Who peeks in corners and under the beds, anyway?

Next... cook a lovely dinner. There I was, sauteing chicken while uninhibitedly dancing to Rihanna's music, when my cellphone rang. It was a friend I invited to our upcoming vow renewal ceremony. And as we were getting carried away talking about the wedding plans, I realized.... wait a minute, I was cooking something! Well, I don't have to tell you how that lovely dinner turned out.

Finally, I decided to just wash the dishes from the other night. Because... that's just how domesticated I am. Just as I'm sure you had predicted, one of the drinking glasses broke, and cut my tiny finger! Blood started oozing out. Lots of it! Now, I have an aversion to blood and faint at the sight of too much of it, so this, naturally, triggered a big panic. But you'd be proud of me. Really proud. Because I bravely took out a gauze, and dressed my own wound! And did it with alternate closing of each eye! Everything went smoothly, until I realized I still have to take a shower so I can go to the doctor. I ran out of those vinyl gloves at home, so you can just imagine the pain I went through washing my hair with one hand.

In the end, I was just so glad that I have a husband who prepares his own lunch, washes his own clothes, clean the house and loves me for who I am. Domesticated or not.

My wonderful girlfriends, are you a domestic woman? And does your significant other care if you are? And for men, is being domesticated one of your criteria in choosing the woman to marry?

One Year

Next month, March 17 to be exact, marks one year of my challenging, but utterly amazing married life.

To some of you who had been following my blog for quite some time now, you're already familiar with how our love story unfolded. But for those of you who are new, you can just always go back to the story of how we met, fell in love, got engaged and finally... got married.

And lived happily ever after. No problems, no conflicts, no worries. Just happiness...sheer happiness.

Yeah, right!

Who am I kidding? This is real life, people! Not some chick flick or a fairy tale.

However, I can definitely say that I'm mostly happy. Especially on days when the Hubby accepts the fact that yourstruly is always right. On days when he doesn't, well... that's a different story.

But kidding aside, my husband is an amazing guy. He's ravishingly hot, unbelievably smart, occasionally funny ;-), and completely sweet. And he loves me unconditionally... which is the best thing ever!

I'd be lying though, if I say that our life had been very easy. As I wrote in my post a few months ago, we've been dealing with some infertility issues. This, naturally, translates to emotional and financial stress. We were planning to have a small but elaborate beach wedding in the Philippines this year ( since we only had a courthouse wedding), but with our current situation, it's hard to make it happen. At least, not for the next couple of years. But, there's a but....

We're going to Las Vegas for our anniversary celebration, and renew our vows at Mt. Charleston in Nevada! Just as we met while hiking on a mini-mountain, we're also getting married on a mountain. Sounds wholly fitting, don't you think? We'll have my sister and seven of our closest friends as our guests, so there's no doubt that that weekend would be filled with love, booze and gambling fun. And thank God, I'd finally get to wear the wedding dress that I bought more than a year ago!

Needless to say, I'm already counting the days!

 

Flowers for Men?

In light of it being Valentines Day (though not a big fan of the day), let me ask you this...

Ladies, would you ever consider sending flowers to a guy you're dating/married to?

Gents, would you feel comfortable receiving flowers from a woman?

The Proposal

A wonderful friend of mine had been with her boyfriend for almost eight years... three of which were spent living together. Like any normal woman who's in love and is dreaming of having a fairy tale family (and also with a biological clock that's ticking), she's dying to have a ring on her finger.

The guy, however, has a different idea. He keeps coming up with excuses.

I'm not ready yet.

I'm not sure if I wanna have kids.

I don't think I have enough money to support a family.

My friend, the ever-patient saint, finally got fed up one day, and told him that if the relationship doesn't move forward in the next few months, she's hauling her tush out of the apartment.

A couple of weeks later, she came home to the sight of her boyfriend playing videogame in the living room. The guy looked up, acknowledged her presence and said...

"Hey babe, your ring is on the table. You said you wanted to get married."

And then went back to playing his stupid videogame.

I'm giving the guy an award. WORST PROPOSAL EVER.

My dear friends, what would you do if a guy proposed to you that way? Would you accept it? Have you ever heard of some horrible proposal stories? Do share.

Miss Independent

Yesterday, I decided to assert my independence and stay at home by myself, while the Hubby visits his family in Michigan. I haven't had a Me Time in a while and I definitely miss Me. House all to myself, with no husband and no puppy to worry about? No complaints here!

I had the whole Saturday planned... wake up unusually late, lose myself in a bubble bath while reading 'I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell' (interesting book by Tucker Max, by the way), indulge in fattening foods, be a couch potato, and have dinner with some girl friends while talking about boys. Sounded like the perfect plan to me.

And sure enough, for half of the day, it was.

I was in heaven... pure, unadulterated heaven!

That is, until I started to leave the house, opened the garage door and saw 10 inches of freaking snow in the driveway!

But of course, being a Miss Independent, I told myself... no worries! I've lived without a man before. I can do anything a man can do! How hard could it be? I've changed my own lightbulbs, hang my pictures on the wall, assembled my new furnitures... shoveling snow shouldn't be any different!

Boy, was I ever wrong!

Fifteen minutes into shoveling snow, and I was freaking exhausted! Every inch of my body was screaming pain. Especially my lower back. If it weren't for my dying desire to hang out with my girlfriends, I would have locked myself inside and just stayed home the whole weekend. But I wanted to get out. Bad. For a while, I contemplated waiting for some sort of a miracle that would get my car out of the driveway. Like a sudden intense global warming to melt the ice on my side of the planet, or my white lighter husband unexpectedly orbing home to shovel the snow. But if my luck with raffle tickets or lotto is any indication, I knew such miracle would never happen to me. So while chanting,' You can do it Chloe, you're Miss independent' over and over, I finished shoveling half of the driveway. Yes, half! Just enough to let my car out. The Hubby can call me Lazy Butt anytime he wants, I don't care, he can do the rest when he gets back.

And fine, I concede! Screw independence! I definitely need a man.

If only for the purpose of shoveling snow.

I guess that explains why the Hubby still hasn't bought a snow blower.

Love is a Grave Mental Disease

"Love is a grave mental disease." ~ Plato
So last night, one of my best friends called me up and tearfully asked me what should she do with a piece of garbage...okay, okay... a man, she was madly in love with.

I gave her the most brilliant suggestion I could come up with: knock on his door, kick him repeatedly with her 3-inch high-heeled shoe where it hurts the most, and show him that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

This pathetic excuse of a man calls her up, have sex with her, disappear for days, calls her up, have sex with her, disappear again, calls her up... get the drift?

Now you're probably wondering, why does she put up with it? Beats me! Although... she said she's in love with him, or something to that effect. Which is even more of a mystery to me. Granted, he does have a nice body, but... I just don't see the attraction in other departments!

Okay, I'd probably understand if she's a plump version of Cruella de Vil that the only guys she can attract are losers and a-holes, but... she's a beautiful woman! One of the prettiest women I've met, in fact. Good guys are lining up to worship the ground she walks on. But just like the rest of the love-crazed female population, she gravitates towards the I-drink-like-there's-no-tomorrow, party-like-crazy, have-an-ego-the-size-of-a-pregnant-blue-whale, come-chase-after-me type of guys. And to think she's got a Masters degree in Chemistry! You'd think she's smart, right? And she is... just not in the love department. Apparently.

But who am I to talk? Really! I was the woman who went gaga over a guy, and for almost a year of my young life, stood by him through his black-to-yellow-to-blue-to-blonde-to-black-again hair color changes (talk about confusion!), hoping at some point he'd get struck by a meteor or cupid's arrow or whatever, and realize that I was the the woman of his dreams! Turned out years later, he wasn't looking for a woman, but the man of his dreams. What the hell was I thinking? I mean, how the heck did I miss the signs? It was so blatantly clear when he enthusiastically agreed that Mark Wahlberg was freaking hot! Was love really that blind?

But... it has been ten years since, and it's all water under the bridge now. Sure, I still cringe in embarrasment when I think about it, but I more than made up for it when I married an amazing, no-question-about-it, totally straight man.

Anyhoo, years later, after I found out the shocking truth, I immediately took out my Mr. Right Requirements list and crossed out an item.

#8. Wants the same thing in life as I do.

I definitely didn't want a man who also wanted a man!

The One With My Attempt To Do a Public Service Announcement

A friendly reminder to all the clueless drivers out there...

1. Just because you signaled your intent to change lane doesn't mean I should give way to you right away, and let you cut me off and move to my lane the minute you want to. You don't own the road, and it's my right of way, you know.

2. A YIELD sign means, well... yield. That is why, when you're trying to merge to a freeway and see that yield sign, you should do exactly that and yield ( I can't stress this enough!), instead of speeding up and trying to get ahead of me. Again, it's my right of way.

3. There's a reason why the law prohibits tailing and specifies a safe distance between two cars on a highway. Because it's safer! Yes... S-A-F-E-R... safer! To prevent 'clueless drivers' (and by that I meant another word) like you from running smack dab into the car ahead, in case the other person had an absolute need to stop immediately. In case you don't know, you need longer distance and more force to brake on time when you're running at a speed of least 65 miles per hour.

4. A yellow light doesn't mean... hurry up and do a left turn, while you're waiting right there, in the center of a four-way intersection! There's a big chance you'll run into another idiot on the opposite side of the road who also thinks that yellow light means speed up before it turns into red.

5. If you're gonna drive below the speed limit, please, I beg of you, stay on the right lane.

6. And finally... no, don't take George Carlin's words seriously, because he was only kidding when he said that anybody driving slower than you is an idiot and anyone going faster than you is a maniac. Contrary to what you might be thinking, you're not the best driver in the world. So stop the road rage, refrain (as best as you can) from honking and giving the finger, and lay easy on calling people idiots. Okay, okay... you can, but only when they're tailing you too close or when they cut you off! And even then, just keep it to yourself to avoid huge fights.

I say all these with the best intentions.