I forgot to report to you all my fail of the week (No, Muscle Man calling me AGAIN last night wasn't it. I was smart this time and failed to answer). I'm a fairly fit person, but the past couple of weeks months I've been slacking. My clothes fit the same way, I weigh about the same, but I feel so out of shape. I decided a week or so ago to go back to the trenches (the gym) and really concentrate on eating non-pub fare. I'm proud to say, I'm doing pretty well. Or thought I was, until I ripped my jeans Tuesday morning while getting ready. A girl's worst nightmare.
Sure, I had just washed and dried these jeans, had just put on lotion, and they were getting pretty threadbare in the upper thighs because they are were my favorite pair (yes, like most women, my thighs touch). But despite all of these factors, instead of hearing the "rrrriiippppp" of the "denim, " I literally heard my jeans say "HAHA, fat ass!"
I ended up wearing a dress that day. And vowing to swear off all sweets (until mini cupcakes were delivered to my office that afternoon).
If Tuesday was the end of the world, then yesterday was one of the greatest days in the history of Rachel (I'd imagine days such as the invention of the wheel, discovery of the Americas, and the Emancipation Proclamation are a tad more important than my exciting news). I got into grad school!
WOOHOO PARTY TIME!!! But not really, because I am about to kiss my virtually nonexistent social life goodbye. Guess I'm going to have to cut out all those OKC dates. DAMN. Come January, I'll be matriculating into Northwestern University's Master's of Public Policy and Administration Program, and getting one step closer to world domination (I'd settle for a promotion, though). I can kiss the following things goodbye:
Contemplating getting a dog
Paying down my student loans
Eight hours of sleep a night
And I couldn't be happier about it.
