Last night, I went to a rehearsal at someone's house. It was mostly people I don't know, with one or two people who are casual acquaintances. 

So, yeah, it got real awkward, real fast.

For those of you who haven't seen me in situations like this, let me explain. If I don't know you, I don't talk. Well, I guess it's more accurate to say I can't talk. It's like my voice freezes up and I just can't make it do anything. Also, I have a food issue.

Yes. Along with all the others.

I don't like eating in front of other people. I eat in front of my family, but it's really hard for me to eat in front of other people. I don't know why. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with being a fat kid, but I'm also pretty sure people can tell I eat from the way I look, so there you go. My brain is a weird, mysterious place.

Anyway, about halfway through the evening, the host turns to me and says, "Are you always like this?"

That's when I knew I'd wowed him with my sparkling conversational skills.

So I make the usual jokes about not being a real soprano inside and all that. But seriously, holy crap, how did I decide to sing in front of people? Where did I go wrong? Why do I not live in a cave somewhere, only making occasional trips into town and never, ever speaking to another person (except myself, of course, because myself and I have some scintillating convos)?

Gee whiz.

There is no moral to this story. I just think it's funny that someone came out and asked the question we all wanted to ask but were afraid to. Am I always like that? You know, socially awkward, a mass of neuroses, and completely bonkers?

Yes. Yes, I am.

So, since it's Monday and the kids are on Spring Break, and since I vowed not to teach during Spring Break ever again because no one shows up anyway, what am I doing this morning? 

Getting ready to start lessons. At the crack o'dawn.

Every year, I say I won't. And every year, they beg me for makeups because they have blown lessons off this spring and don't have school this week, so of course they'll have time if they're not going off on some crazy expensive vacation that I could never afford because their parents are gazillionaires. And I say yes, because I'm a sucker, and then I sit around and wait. And they don't show. And I call. And they ask if they can come this afternoon.

And I say yes again.

And it happens again.

And then we say screw it, and cancel anyway.

Ugh. Why, oh why, do I do this? I swear, anyone who doesn't show up today is going to feel my wrath. Of course, my wrath is the passive-aggressive kind, so it'll be more like 25 minutes of warmup and all classical songs with embarrassing words in them, like "breast," "bosom," or "tra la la."

I'll do it, too, guys. Don't test me.

Blergh. Monday.

I cannot imagine how embarrassed I would be if the Internet had been around when I was going through puberty.

Because, honestly, all these kids are running around with camera phones and posting obnoxious pictures of themselves being icky at a young age, and we all know that once this stuff is out there, it's out there for good.

Also, I feel like many of them are incapable of having real-life interactions with other people, so if something happens, and the network goes down, they are all going to have a massive freak out.

Sort of like me when I encounter change. I know, I know, we all have our things.

But for reals, I am just thankful that I destroyed most of those obnoxious film photos from the 90s. 

Mostly. Or did I? I can't remember.

Oh, well. At least my sister has a copy of my senior picture, just to remind me that I should never, ever let anyone do my hair for a photo shoot and then not double check it in a mirror and fix it. Even if the stylist gets hurt feelings.

Because whoa.

And this is my mind. Gone. Gone for good. But at least it's Friday. 

It strikes me as incredibly odd that we have all of these new scientific advances, we are learning more and more things every day, and the Internet has so much information on it that a person could literally look up a thousand topics a day and still have new items to look up for a really long time. Yet the mom jean keeps coming back into style.

Why, guys? Why?

For those of you who don't know what I'm referring to, here's a picture:

WHY? This lady is thin and pretty and would most likely look great in almost any outfit.

I just can't understand what people are thinking with these. Yes, I own a pair. I wear them when we're doing projects around the house and I have to say that, comfort-wise, these homies win. Hands down. It's almost like not wearing pants at all.

I stopped wearing them in public after my trip to Disney World a couple of years ago. I never really wore them out before that, but I figured I wouldn't see anyone there that I knew, and I wanted to be comfortable. My husband took a picture of me, and when I saw what the pants looked like, I swore to never, ever wear them out in public again.

It was pretty bad. I looked a good twenty pounds heavier and the pants were a little short, so maybe flooding was expected that day, I don't know, and the pants themselves seemed to have a mind of their own. I was in danger of them swallowing my boobs, what with the height of the pants, and my butt? Don't even ask.

No one's butt looks okay in those bad boys, and when you have a flat butt to begin with, as I do, you are in trouble.

So, again, why? Why why why? I think we can all tell it's the wrong choice, but we keep getting sucked in with false promises of comfort and attempts to be stylish in a way that doesn't involve showing off buttcrack.

Let's all agree never to do this again, okay? In public, I mean. They're so comfortable you don't want to just throw them out... 

Ugh. I can't even deal with weigh in results today.

Up two pounds.

I feel like my scale must be the problem, because it sure as heck can't be me. I did all the right things. All. Of. Them. 

Okay, I ate a cookie on Monday.

Otherwise, though, I did really well. Treadmill on high intensity, lots of water, protein shakes and salad with no cheese on it. Yeah, no cheese. I left cheese off a food item that can hold cheese.

It was the worst. I cried inside. 

Yogurt and fruit. Plain vegetables with no sauce, guys. NO SAUCE.

And what does it get me? An extra two pounds. Jerks.

Maybe I'll just pretend that each pound went to a boob. I think that's okay. Slightly bigger boobs never hurt anybody, and it doesn't affect pants size at all.

Yep. Bigger boobs. Symmetrically bigger, too, which makes my OCD ecstatic.

Good job, me.

Ugh. At least it's Friday.

So the other day, I was teaching, as usual, and the day was going pretty well, but I noticed that the kids seemed extra whiny. By the time I got to the end of the afternoon, I was sort of....well....let's say cranky, just to be nice.

Okay, no, I was pissed. They were all being uncooperative turds.

At any rate, my last student of the day that day is my problem child. She throws temper tantrums (full-on, on the floor, kicking and screaming) and she's 11. ELEVEN.

My mom would've murdered me if I would've acted this way at four. Much less eleven. Just saying.

Anyway, yeah. I wasn't having it. She wasn't having it. Five minutes in, I could tell that we were going to have a massive throw down, and I was probably going to lose because my hands are tied. Can't discipline anybody. I just have to wait out the clock.

So I asked what song she wanted to sing. She said, "Nnnngggggmmmmgggngngn."

I assume that means she wants me to pick, since I don't speak moron. So I suggest a song. She responds with a long, loud whine, and sits down on the floor.

Five minutes of whine-crying.

Not by me, FYI.

So I just ignore her. The situation does not improve, but I haven't killed her yet, so I figure I'm ahead. Then, I get a bright idea.

"Alright, get up. We're not doing this anymore, I have an assignment for you, and it's NOT OPTIONAL" I say, using my most authoritative voice, which I realize is somewhere between the tones of Buddy the Elf and Winnie the Pooh (it's really good that I don't have kids of my own, because I would fail at the discipline follow-through big time).

She stands up, but is still not thrilled with life. However, I have managed to get her off the floor, so I feel pretty good about that. I then inform her that we are going to sing her favorite song, "Who Will Buy?" from Oliver!

But with a difference...

I tell her she has to make up all new words, going along with the first line, which I tell her is now "Who Will Buy...This Wonderful Chicken?"

Yep. 

So I gave her a back story, all about a wonderful chicken who needs a home, but if the kid doesn't sell her to a nice family, she will have to go to the pound, because the kid who owns her has suddenly developed an allergy to feathers, and she is not an outdoor chicken, so this kid has got to convince someone to give her a good home.

And then, wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, the kid laughed and proceeded to make up words and have a stellar lesson. I mean, she cooperated for the next twenty odd minutes. First time EVER. And her song about the chicken was actually pretty awesome, but I did send her home with another assignment. Also involving chickens, but in a different song.

So now we are having a whole week of alternate lyric composition lessons. 

It seems silly, but it's actually really educational. It helps the kids figure out strong and weak beats and syllabic placement. It's like I'm tricking them into learning. Gasp.

And we'll see how Miss Poopypants is this week. I'm not expecting much, but that twenty minutes gave me a faint glimmer of hope.

I had a really good blog topic for today. I was all prepared, and it was so fun and I was really excited for it.

And then I had my weekly weigh-in, which ruined everything. I just can't bring myself to write about anything happy when I DIDN'T LOSE ANYTHING.

NOTHING. 

So I basically killed it this week. I had one cheat meal, which didn't even push me over my calories for the day or skew my percentages too much AND I walked extra that day, so it was hardly even a cheat.

I kept my sugar below the allowed number, my carbs below the allowed percentage, and my calories right at the allowed amount every single day. Even last weekend. 

I walked on the treadmill every day and added speed and incline and time every day.

I charted and weighed and completely went without any added sugar, even in my coffee (that was the easiest thing, and I've actually decided I like it this way, but never mind that).

And nothing happened. NOTHING.

Sigh.

But I still had my protein shake for breakfast, even though I prefer cereal, and I'm still gong to hit the treadmill later on, because I'm a sucker. And I guess I'll keep on with the no sugar and lots of vegetables thing, even though I'm not very happy about it right now.

Seriously, though, guys. For reals, now. This is lame.

Alrighty, guys. It's Lent. Time to do that whole "Second New Year's Resolution" thing, right?

Or maybe I'm the only one who thinks of it that way...

Anyway, when I was a little kid, we were Catholic, so I guess we must've given something up for Lent, but I was too little and I don't remember. Then, we became Protestant, but it was the kind of Protestant where you don't do Lent, so basically for the next twenty years or so, I was good to go.

Now, we're Lutheran. So there's Lent.

My husband doesn't do it, because it just feels weird to him (I'm guessing), but I kind of like structured times of doing something that encourages me to focus on being a better person, so I like to do it just for an excuse to push myself a little bit.

Also, there's Easter at the end and that means my Mom will make those coconut cupcakes, so I have to save up my sugar.

At any rate, it's day one and I haven't decided what I should do. There are pretty much a billion ways in which I'm not up to par. I need to practice more, I need to eat less sugar and more vegetables, I need to work out more and do more intense exercise, I need to stop buying things that I don't really need...yeah, there's even more than that. I am officially not a good person.

And vowing to be a better person for the next six and a half weeks is just too broad. I need a specific task.

I don't actually believe I have to do this for God, mind you. I don't think it really matters to an all-knowing, all-seeing being whether or not I give up cake. I'm pretty sure it's for my own benefit, and a good excuse to work on myself. Like a New Year's Resolution, but more focused and in a shorter time frame, so it's a little easier to stick to.

I think I'm going to go with meditation.

That is something I've been really wanting to do, but I haven't been good about doing it regularly, and I think some mindfulness and focus could be a healthy thing.

Also, I'm already off sugar and exercising more, so I feel like that would be a cop-out.

Okay. It's written down, on the interwebs, so I have to do it. I will meditate every day for five minutes. I can do this. It will be good for me.

Yikes.