Me. Just pantless.

Tonight, I may be a bit drained. Not emotionally or physically, but articulately. I used my quota of articulateness earlier during a 2 hour interview for a part time job. Nevertheless, I will attempt to reflect on my day and decide whether or not I am due some back-patting.

My interview was at 10:00 am, which gave me the perfect opportunity to practice waking up at 8:00 am even if I technically could have slept until 8:30. And I’m really glad I did, because I couldn’t find my pants. Instead of spending my extra time calmly preparing, I ran about the house being particularly crabby to my mom and sister.

“I need socks.” I said.

“Where are the ones I gave you a few days ago?”

“In my car.”

This is the part where my mom breathed that mom-breath. The kind that means, “I want to scold you severely, and maybe I will…I have to think about it.”

“I’m sorry I’m being so short,” I exclaimed, “but now is not the time to get mad at me for leaving your socks in my car!” Really, mama. Socks in my car were the least of my worries. I had no pants.

The interview was the best ever (or at least really good, considering I got the job). I didn’t arrive ten minutes early to the interview, but I turn a blind eye to this fact. I’m just glad I had pants. Therefore, I pat my back once and thank God for surprise pants that hide in the back of the closet.

I declare tomorrow 8:00 am Is Silly Day, as most Saturdays will be, and will sleep in as long as I want. So there.

Me. Just PMS-ing.

Today was a great success. I accomplished my goals and made good choices:

Up by 8:00 am – Check! In fact, I was up at 7:30.

Spent time with God before my day had a chance to get the worst out of me – Check!

At work ten minutes early – Try 15.

Cup of coffee from Gloria Jean’s – I’m fairly sure this was the only goal not in danger of being unaccomplished.

I even managed to get a whole Spanish lesson done in one sitting.

Then why do I feel like an absolute failure? Every “i” was dotted. I even threw in a couple extra dots for good measure. And here I sit: depressed, over-caffeinated, a little disgusting (it’s hard to shower with an open wound), and confused. I should be celebrating all the good things I did in the last 15 hours, but instead I am worrying over all the parts I haven’t gotten to yet.

WHY am I just a little bit pudgy?

WHAT am I going to do now that I’ve committed to a year of invisible braces and can’t move away from this frozen tundra?

WHEN will I actually go out? With a boy. On a date. Where I eat food. And get to actually talk.

HOW will I ever escape Picture People? And when will the children of the world stop screaming in my ear?

What’s most repulsive about all of this is that I’m spoiled. Let’s recap:

WHY am I so well fed?

WHAT am I going to do now that my parents have committed to paying for me to have an attractive smile?

WHEN will I actually go out? With a boy. On a date. Where I eat food. And get to actually talk. (This one’s actually pretty accurate.)

HOW will I ever get out of the job I’m lucky enough to have? Where I make money. And a difference in people lives…kind of.

I need to calm down and celebrate the little victories of today. Just doing the things I said I would is a step in the right direction, and worthy of praise! Good job, me. And tomorrow, we’ll do it again. AND we’ll have an interview for a new part time job. Maybe I will escape Picture People!

We’ll get to the rest all in good time. Well done today, De Facto Elle. Nay, Semi-Improved Elle.

Me. Just punctual.

I’ve decided that there needs to be some sort of organization to this self-improvement. Just picking things that I need to change at random will probably result in me wasting more time and having a stressful time doing it. Therefore, I declare that each week will have a focus. This week is Time.

I’ve already covered the whole “wake with the glory of the morn” bit, and that’s going *insert sarcastic tone here* swimmingly. In my defense, reader(s), I worked a closing shift last night and didn’t get home until almost 11pm. And then I had to play facebook for a while. Not to mention that stirring ice skating competition at the Olympics. *Side note: Scott Hamilton made me giggle the first few times I heard him commentate, but now I think he’s brilliant. I’m no ice skater and need to be told when something’s good or bad. His emotional outbursts give me the cues I need to respond accordingly. *The end of side note.

Back to time. On my way home from the doctor’s yesterday (getting my open wound covered with strange tape a Snoopy band-aid…yay?) I congratulated myself on being at the doctor’s office ten minutes before my scheduled appointment. That felt very Improved Elle-ish to me, and so I introduce another point of betterment: punctuality.

My best friend’s mother, who acts as a sort of second mother to me, was once asked to describe my weaknesses. “I love Elle just the way she is,” she declared loyally. “If there was one thing I wish was just a bit different, it would be how she is always just a little bit late.” And so, dear Mrs. Scheid, I give you your wish. Your wish of 10 minutes.

Therefore, I will wake up tomorrow (yes, at 8:00 am) and be at work 10 minutes prior to my shift. Improved Elle would also make sure to arrive with a fresh cup of coffee from Gloria Jean’s. Well, if I must!

Me. Just bleeding.

Last night, after I finished my inspiring first post, I managed to rip open a scar. I had just gotten the stitches taken out a few hours before, and now I lay open and bleeding and whining very loudly. Instead of spending some quality time with my treadmill as intended, I spent some quality time with an oversized band-aid and twitter.

One of the changes I will be implementing to make a better Elle, however, will not be hindered by my accident. In fact, it actually helped. You see, I’m somewhat of a night owl. For years now, I stay up into the wee hours of the morn and then sleep as hard as I can for as long as I can. And while this is a very nice setup for me, I can’t help but think that De Facto Elle is missing out.

I have a good friend that insists morning is “a beautiful time of day,” or something. Yada yada. “You should wake with the sun rising. It’s wonderful to witness!” Well, Daniel, you know what else is wonderful to witness? The same thing hours later in reverse. That, however, is the old, unpleasant Elle that I’ll have to beat into submission. I will wake with the sun (at least in the winter) and I will be in bed by a decent hour! The plan is in bed by 10 or 11 at night, and up by 8am.

And how does my unfortunate accident help this? Last night, I couldn’t stand the thought of what I had done to myself for very long, so I took refuge in the unconsciousness of sleep. And this morning, I was so uncomfortable with having to sleep in the one safe position I could,  I was up by 8:10. And so, meet Elle Improved: Day 2!

Me. Just better.

“Tomorrow” has got to be one of the best words in any language. It’s polysyllabic, the topic of a very good song from a very good broadway show, and an appropriate answer to almost every question or problem.

When should I call my sister to tell her I can’t meet her for lunch tomorrow?
Tomorrow

I can’t find my shoes.
I’ll find them tomorrow.

I should exercise.
Meh…tomorrow.

23 years of “tomorrow’s” have brought me nowhere closer to the adult I always thought I would be. Here’s a brief description of the Elle I imagined as a wee girl:

Imagined Elle is slender woman of exquisite grace. Her every movement pleases the eye and reminds one of a dance they might have seen somewhere. Imagined Elle has learned to be a gentle spirit, balancing her spontaneity with a timely word. All gather round wherever she is to hear the wisdom that inevitably pours from her lips. She is concerned for her health, and so she exercises regularly, while maintaining an aloofness about her appearance. Of course, she’s prettier than she realizes.

Oh, it makes me giggle! Here’s the De Facto Elle:

De Facto Elle is a relatively slender woman of reasonable grace. Her every movement doesn’t offend the eye and reminds one of another movement they might have seen somewhere. De Facto Elle has learned to squelch the desire to speak every blessed thought, balancing her spontaneity with a silly word. Some gather round wherever she is to hear something. Usually something unimportant and having to do with a movie she saw the night before. She is concerned for her health, but she can’t seem to get off her butt to exercise, and actually has maintained an aloofness about her appearance. She might be prettier than she realizes.

So. What’s the point? Get to it, De Facto Elle! Imagined Elle would have been much more articulate. The point is that “tomorrow” is no longer a part of my vocabulary. Kind of. I’ll still use it here and there, but not when it comes to doing the things that will bring about an Improved Elle. I like me. But I think I’ll like Improved Elle even more.

Make good choices. Exercise. Read more books. Learn to cook something other than spaghetti. Get my photography business up and running. Finish that stupid Spanish class that’s been hanging over my head for a year. The list goes on.

And so, welcome to Elle Improved: A Blog. The bettering starts tomorrow! (Just kidding. I’m going to the treadmill now.)