It's fun to stay at the...

New Years Eve will be here before you know it so I've taken a head start on my yearly resolutions and purchased myself a membership to the....YMCA!!! Yesterday was my first day hitting the gym and I focused only on doing some cardio but today I decided it was time to play with the big boys. No more elliptical for this guy, it was time for some weight lifting. I'm not really much of a free weight kinda guy. Frankly I'm afraid of no one hearing my screams for help as I'm being crushed alive on the bench press and I feel kinda lame having to take off the 50lb weights from whoever went before me and replacing them with a pair of 20's. Ugh. So I decided to try the machines, but as fate would have it they were all taken up by an insane amount of senior citizens. I guess water aerobics was cancelled today? Anyways I saw one open machine but then that meant out of like 15 manned/womaned machines I was the youngest person by a good half decade. So then I figured I'd try the Dumbbells. Yes Dumbbells sounded great. I start doing curls with pair of 30's.....ok they were actually 25's, and who do I end up standing next to? Yep. One of the jocks I went to high-school with whose arms are now the size of my quad, except much more tan. I should have known this would happen. Now to begin with I'm not real fond of running into people that I know at the gym. For one this I've usually just rolled out of bed or I'm dripping in sweat from my level 7 fat burner workout on the stairmaster. And more than anything I loathe it when that person turns out to be someone who knew me in high-school when I had acne, wore socks with my favorite Payless sandals and weighed a healthy 110 lbs. I was beyond flustered. So as I'm doing my reps in front of the mirror and and catching awkward glances from this guy I'm pondering, "Should I say hi?", "Does he even remember me", " You never acknoldged my existence when I sat beside you in Current World Events so why start now?" Granted i'm assuming we've both matured somewhat since those days and people are normally friendlier once they leave behind the social norms of high-school but you just never know. Something about running into these sort of people from my past just brings out that insecure high-school freshman deep down inside of me. Hopefully I get over it by the time my worst nightmare arrives. The ten year reunion. Ick.

Bye Bye Bye...tonsils

So this past week or so has been a long one. It began with what my anesthesiologist described as "an assault on my throat". At the ripe old age of 24 I finally had my tonsils removed. Why the doctors didn't just take them out as a youngster like the majority of the population I'll never know. Through the years, experts had always assured me that I had abnormally small tonsils that shouldn't cause me any problems. And of course being the trusting, blindly follow kind of person I am I believed their words. Then came the sporadic sore throats and what I can only grossly describe as cottage cheese like entities that I'd hack up at very inopportune times. I finally decided enough was enough. The tonsils needed to go.

So last Tuesday was the big day. I had been good and not eaten past midnight the previous night. In preparation my calorie intake that Monday rivaled that of a squirrel ravenously preparing for winter. Going without food is something I'm not very good at so in preparation I consumed roughly 4,000 calories with the hope my body would slowly digest over the first few days post surgery. I was the first patient that morning and mom and dad drove me there at the ungodly hour of 6:30. After stripping down to my boxers and putting on the gown and requesting several warm blankets they wheeled me in to the surgery room. The last thing I remember before going under was the cold sensation of the anesthesia rushing through my blood stream and Dr. Rice telling me that this was Michael Jackson's drug of choice. What about that statement was supposed to bring me comfort!?!?! This stuff killed him!?!?! He'd obviously missed the memo about me being the unrefuted prince of pop (shut your mouth Justin Bieber) and had I succumb to the same sort of tragedy that took Michael the world would have mourned. Mourned I tell you!

The first few days were not fun. However it was by no means as bad as when I had my wisdom teeth taken out. That was pure hell and if anyone had offered me a diet coke with a teaspoon of arsenic during those dark days I would have graciously thanked them and asked for a straw. It was that bad. One thing you quickly come to realize after a tonsillectomy is how often the average human swallows in a day. I was told it was somewhere around 600. That sure felt a like a low estimate!! Oh and waking up several times every night to the sensation of blooding flowing down your throat gets real old real fast. After one such night my parents decided it was time for a check up to make sure everything was ok. When the doctor asked how much I had bled during the night I was doing my best to guesstimate while under the affect of painkillers. Then completely out of left field my mother pulls out of her Vera Bradley purse a Ziploc bag bulging with all my bloody Kleenex's that she had collected while I was sleeping. Oh yeah, and then my dad felt the need to inform the doctor that the bleeding occurred simultaneously with my first bowel movement in three days. I. WANTED. TO. DIE. (P.S. Mom and Dad if you are reading this, I forgive you and realize now that you did this out of love. xoxo) There has been one at least positive thing that has come from this whole ordeal. I've always said that I was one stomach flu away from my ideal weight. Alright, maybe I've only been saying it since 2006 because I totally stole it from Emily Blunt's character in 'The Devil Wears Prada'. But now I can safely say that I am one tonsillectomy away from my ideal weight! It truly boggles the mind how much weight someone can lose when their only calorie intake for the day is 5 cups of shaved ice, a bowl of blue Jello, and a Tazo Berry Blossom tea with two splenda and a splash of honey! Why didn't anyone tell me about this diet years ago!? Maybe I should write a book because the world must hear the good news.

Four Eyes

Yes. That is correct. The picture above is of me and I'm biting my finger to contain my enthusiasm because I'm so freakin excited. I just picked up my new pair of glasses and the world is now a much clearer and vibrant place. The past few weeks have been a bit rough because I had been suffering from really bad headaches that would not go away. First I blamed it on a possible sinus infection because Lord knows that wouldn't be a stretch for me this time of year. The doctor gave me some antibiotics which did nothing for the headache but did clear up my skin so that I looked fabulous for my San Francisco trip. Thanks walk-in-clinic :) FInally figured it might be my glasses and sure enough my prescription was too strong because my vision has somehow improved! It's a miracle (heaven opens up, angels sings, and doves are flying everywhere)!!!

Now don't let's be mistaken. Wearing a pair of glasses hasn't always been a bed of roses. The first pair of glasses I had were in the 1st grade. I think at that time I was excited to have glasses but the novelty quickly faded from view. It only got worse when my mother and optometrist came to the unanimous conclusion that extremely light sensitive Robbie James needed transition lenses. That happened around 3rd grade and whenever I see pictures from those years I just have to cringe. For one thing, I had a bowl cut the size of Crater Lake and my glasses took so long to transition back once I returned from recess that i was in a constant state of tint. And don't be fooled by my happy appearance in the above picture. Putting on a smile and facing the world was simply a coping mechanism.The only thing that kept me going in those days were the whisperings from Mom and Dad that once I reached high-school i could get contacts.

All was fine and dandy until recently when my eyes dried up like the Dead Sea and my optometrist gave me the cold hard facts. Nowhere in the near future will my eyes be able to support contacts due to the fact that my eyes don't create enough moisture for sustainable living!!!!! Luckily all of this is happening in a day and age where glasses are cool. Hip you might say. Last year i bought a pair of glasses somewhat similar to the ones I have now and people would not shut up about how great they thought they were. I must admit they were pretty cool and they did have fleur de lis on the side. Sometimes I just ooze classiness. Needless to say, these days people would kill for my imperfect vision. I've been offered couples first born children in exchange for my stigmatism. And who can blame them because nothing is more lame that a poser in non prescription glasses. Well unless you're Britney Spears. Because let's be clear people. How adorable does she look here???? Love you Brit :)

In closing I would just like to thank all the people in this world who have made my home called earth a place where people can be openly out and proud about the fact that they wear glasses. Gone are the days of ignorant jokes and feeling less attractive for something completely out of my control. These days when walking down the street I'm greeted by uplifting words such as:

Random stranger: Well heeeeeeeelllllllllloooooooo there four eyes!

Me: Thanks for noticing.

Random barista: I think your stigmatism's sexy!

Me: I get that a lot.

New Blog Title

Well now that my "10 MOnths in AmeriCorps" are over I've decided that it's time for a new title for the blog.
Growing up as a small child in rural Eastern Washington, I spent many a day contemplating the fame I would gain in my adult life. The lights. The cameras. The tabloid covers. But most importantly I spent a lot of time thinking about the name of my future memoirs that my screaming fans would be understandably begging me to release. Early on I had decided upon the name Robsessed for obvious reasons. For one thing it sounds awesome and it's basically my whole name minus the R. Clever right? So you can can imagine my horror the day i get a facebook post from my friend Jess Miller alerting me to the fact that freakin Robert Pattinson must have gained access to my childhood diary labeled 1994 and stolen my title! It's a sick sick world we live in folks. But I've persevered. The show must go on. And so in spite of copy right infringement and the looming possibility of being eaten alive by the Cullen family I have decided to stand my ground and claim what is rightfully mine. Therefore, from this day forward my blog shall be known as: ROBSESSED......... go team Jacob!