  I went to the dentist this morning,  and had a pretty good time.  I never really understood why people get so nervous about going to the dentist;  it's the one place you can lay back,  let everyone else do all the work,  you don't have to talk,
 everything is minty fresh,  and its considered normal for you to let go of all social graces and just drool to your heart's content.  Come on,  it's like a massage to the mouth!  Plus,  my dentist is really cute in an "
I'm young,  interesting,  and slightly geeky"  sort of way.  He always talks to me about his rock climbing adventures because I commented once -  about 2 years ago -
 on how I like to go hiking ( and by hiking I usually mean extended walks in a slightly wooded/ hilly area.  Not exactly your " project adventure"  type scenarios.
 and I think he expects me to understand how just " totally AWE- some"  the " rush"  he had "
on the one ledge"  was.  I just grunt and blink to confirm I heard and/ or possibly " get it"  Anyway,
 he's a very cool,  very cute guy,  and he plays good music in his office.  Turns out I grind my teeth,  and my dentist said that it's very common in high- stress individuals.
 Was he implying that I am high stress?  HOW DID HE KNOW?  I'm stressing over the fact that someone I see maybe twice a year has gotten a distinct impression that I am high stress!  But seriously,  I didn't even realize that I was doing it.  Pete sleeps like a rock so it's not like he would hear me at night,
 and I thought clenching your jaw while driving,  sitting in class/ at work,  listening to family drone on and on,  reading,  working out,
 etc was normal.  Apparently my teeth are only supposed to " meet"  when I chew,  and since I've taken up this habit,  my teeth have been filed down almost 1/
32 of an inch -  which doesn't sound like much,  but when he took out the little ruler/ gauge thing and showed me a comparison between this x- ray and my last one,  I was shocked.
 If I keep it up,  I'll have " chicken teeth"  ( huh?  by the time I'm 40,
 which I'm taking to mean " For the love of god STOP or you'll be the next spokes model for Polydent!  I have to go get fitted for a guard to wear at night -  and during the day if necessary -  to train me not to grind at best,  and at worst just to prevent any additional wear on my teeth should the habit persist.
 I also -  ughhhhhhhh -  have to get my wisdom teeth out.  Apparently it shouldn't be quite the ordeal as I've heard from some other sensitive individuals ( Pete:  "
Yeah,  I had holes in my mouth for 2 weeks and it tasted like beef from all the blood!  Charming babe,  charming.  because my teeth have already " broken through the jawbone"
 and therefore they won't have to actually break through my jaw.  Hey,  whatever,  just give me the gas.  I got a referral to an oral surgeon nearby,  but I don't know when to schedule it because I'm sure I'll be a big huge baby and need some "
help"  functioning normally for the first day or so ( Moooommm,  can I have some sooouupp?  and living up at Hilltop with no roommates will make getting that help difficult.  I should probably schedule it for a time when I know I can come to Waterford for a couple of days and let my mom baby me.
 All in all in was a good day,  but I'm bored.  I know I bitch and moan about going back to school,  but I think I have over- extended my stay in Waterford,  and the time has come for me to no longer sell boats and boating equipment to middle-
aged assholes who try to evade tax laws and Coast Guard regulations and think it's perfectly acceptable to " flirt with"  ( HARASS)  me to try to get the best price ( just FYI,
 if you ever use this tactic,  be aware that the price is usually jacked up about 5%  for every 5 minutes a woman has to listen to this BS.  We'll still get the sale,  but it's to your financial disadvantage to be a slime- ball!
 It's very frustrating to work with the general public.  I mean,  I've been doing it since literally my 16th birthday in one form or another,  and I'm finding people treat you with more disrespect the older you get.  They ( and by "
they"  I mean the arrogant piggish old men I cater to now;  the women don't tend to be quite as disrespectful)  assume that since you work in retail,  or " sales"
 since I'm not actually in a retail position,  that you are ignorant ( or as they say " uneducated"  -  which is not the same thing in my mind;
 you can have 3 PhD's and still be an ignorant mo- fo!  that you have at least 2 illegitimate children with two different daddies,  that you should automatically be sympathetic and knowledgeable about every single one of their needs before they even begin to speak,  and that it is your personal problem when something doesn't go exactly as planned.  Ok,
 fine:  not everyone had the luxury of going to college.  I went,  and I don't consider myself any " smarter"  than when I graduated from high school.
 I may have had a few memorable life experiences which helped me to " grow up"  a bit ( and I stress A BIT)  but I think the same would have applied had I not gone to college and was forced to start paying rent 4 years earlier.  People are met with challenges no matter where they come from or what they do;
 a piece of paper with official letterhead does not make me any more capable to deal with " the real world"  OR more deserving or anyone's respect.  I just don't know where people get off assuming that a college degree automatically makes you a better,  smarter,  wiser,
 or profoundly DIFFERENT human being than had you not gone.  I mean,  for those go- get- em " extracurricular"
 types college may provide a really convenient venue for them to " develop leadership potential"  and " broaden their horizons"  -  but my impression is that life happens by doing,
 not by joining a club or taking a semi- structured curriculum of " diverse"  classes,  and the knowledge acquired at college can not replace the wisdom acquired by actually " DOING"
 life.  College for the most part sucked for me;  I'm glad I went and dealt with what I dealt with when I did,  but I wouldn't want to do it over again,  that's for sure.  I don't know,
 it just frustrates me to hear someone else who may not have the type of education I have speak with a customer in perhaps a little less " polished"  manner but still conveying all necessary and relevant information,  and then hearing them say " hold on sir,  let me transfer you"
 because the client thinks he or she is incapable of doing their job.  I don't judge people by the length of time they've spent in the classroom;  I judge people based on how kind they are,  what kind of perspective they maintain in difficult situations,  and by what they value.  How they express this counts for very little in my book.
 Down with intellectual snobbery!  HMPH!  The weekend was a blast.  Despite me drinking too much Red Bull and feeling like I was on some kind of roller coaster on Saturday night,  Pete and I had a really good time.  He finally met me friends Barb and Josh -
 and from what I can tell really enjoyed himself.  The next couple weeks look like we're basically going to be headed in opposite directions,  so I probably won't see him that much -  which in a way is a much needed change because I have a lot of BS to take care of,  and it'll give me a chance to spend some quality time with Ray -  and Roxann before she leaves.
 I have to go workout.  I feel ( and look)  enormous and could use a rush of endorphins.  As much progress as I've made,  I still 1)
 need to lose more weight and 2)  obsess over my appearance waaaaaaaaaaay too much.  The whole " I can't be perfect"  thing hasn't really sunk in yet,  and the funny thing is that no one is really exerting those types of pressure on me anymore.
 My mom has pretty much chilled out and accepted that I'm nutso and will never really be " all that she had imagined"  ( and Harry could give a shit)  I'm not in dance classes anymore,  I don't exactly hang out with superficial prissy brand-
bitches ( we're the Wal- Mart/ Target kind of gals!  and my boyfriend thinks I'm beautiful ( I never said he wasn't weird)
 Yet no matter what I do -  even as far as talking myself through those really insecure moments -  I still get upset over the way I look;  from the shape of my face,  to the frizzy wild hair,  to my thick muscular legs.
 I have some good days,  but I would really like to not think about this stuff anymore,  or at least as much.  There's lots of people in the world,  and lots of them aren't necessary " beautiful"
 ( let's not even BEGIN to get into the whole subjectivity thing,  because being rational and realistic has no place in this train of thought)  and I'm sure their lives aren't utterly miserable or empty because they will never grace the pages of some glossy magazine,  but for some stupid f- ed up reason I have created an entirely different set of standards for myself.
 Oddly enough,  I don't even have a very critical gaze when it comes to other people.  I hate going out with my sister because she is constantly finding flaws with mere strangers:  " Look at her outfit.  Oh my god.
 He butt looks HUGE!  -  I never do that.  In fact it takes a lot for me to even notice another person's appearance.  They have to be either disfigured of incredibly freakish for me to take a second look,  yet I put myself under the imperfection microscope almost every day.
 I guess I'm getting " better"  about it -  no,  I know I am,  but still have a loooong way to go.
 I guess you could say today was one of the bad days.  I went shopping real quick after the dentist and of course whenever I go shopping I get depressed:  too many mirrors.  The funny thing is I have never felt relief from this:  even when I weighed 97 pounds ( sad but true)
 my junior year,  had heart problems,  couldn't walk up the hill without wanting to pass out,  my boss threatened to report me to the infirmary and Lauren told me I " looked like Skeletor -  and that's a BAD thing!
 I still woke up every day and tried on 5 different pairs of jeans until I found one that didn't " make me look fat"  and got frustrated when a certain style of shirt I wanted to buy didn't fit in the size XS and I was forced to buy a size S.  In reality,  I now know I could've tried on 5000 jeans and it wouldn't have mattered -  my life wouldn't have been any different if I was a size 2 or a size 22;
 I was deeply miserable and lonely regardless of what size jeans I wore ( after years of therapy I finally figured out my anorexia on my own.  I think it was easier not to figure it out before)  It doesn't matter now either -  now that I really could stand to lose 10 pounds -  whether a certain pair of jeans does or doesn't make me look a certain way.
 I'll still have to go to work,  I'll still be in love with and loved by Pete,  my family will still be bizarre,  ultimately frustrating,  but endearing just the same,  and I'll still be clueless and scared to death of the upcoming school year,
 let alone life after school.  I may not be miserable or lonely anymore,  but I still habitually find flaws with myself.  I KNOW these things now,  but I haven't quite gotten to the point of BELIEVING them.  Maybe I just need some more time.
 Hell,  it took me 11 years to even get to this point.  Anyway,  I'm going to go have some food,  chill out for a bit,  and then hit the elliptical.
 It's too daaarrrn hot.  - C 
