Vacation Time

Tomorrow I head home to begin a MUCH NEEDED vacation with my family, although technically I've already started this vacation at my office by playing Angry Birds for more time than absolutely necessary while listening to dance-tastic beats of Flo Rida. My co-workers have noticed my dimishing attention to my work, as I have been wandering around the office finding any way to procrastinate actually doing something, from complaining about my clients to discussing peoples weekends extensively to pondering the meanings of our last names and proposing alternatives, such as "Lady," so that when my name goes from last to first, I would be called "Lady, Ashley." It's a stimulating environment.

Although that's not to say I don't have things to complain about with my clients. There is the guy who overly rolls all his "r's" in Spanish and I have to be careful not to start laughing while he's talking, the woman who calls me so often that I now could recite her phone number from all the times I've called her back, and then there's a whole other level of client... we call him Fabio. Fabio is unlike any other client in that he makes me feel borderline violated when he even walks into a room. Fabio has the classic long mullet hair, lingering eyes, and a way of speaking to me that makes me feel inferior and contradicted. I dread calling him. I dread answering his calls. So I normally send it to voicemail. He asks me often whether I understand him or not, when I absolutely do. The times I don't understand him, I feel like he's making some comment under his breath and uses words I don't know intentionally. He hasn't done anything to cross a line yet, but he's gotten close.

I recently had to meet with Fabio one-on-one in my office. I intentionally left the door open. I was telling him in Spanish that he would have to get a medical exam for his immigration application, and he said, "Why? Why do I need a medical exam?" He looked me directly in the eyes... I think he was trying to smolder at me, but I kept my eyes carefully on the computer.
"It's just part of the application." I replied while pretending to focus on my computer.
"What if they find something in my exam that's bad?" He stared too intently at me.
I looked at him. "What do you think they'll find? Do you think you're sick with something?"
He paused a moment, staring at me. "Amorrrr." Love.
Oh dear God. I chuckled nervously, disgusted. "Ha ha." I said, and changed the subject, my stomach churning.

Later as we were wrapping up the appointment, I told him, like I tell all my clients, "So if you have any questions please don't hesitate to call me and I'll be happy to help you."
"I dont believe you, why do you never answer my calls?" He asked in his attempted rico-suave voice.
I squirmed inside. It's because you creep me the fuck out and just hearing your voice makes me want to hurl! "Well, you know, I have a lot of clients and am very busy, on the phone a lot." I try to say casually.
"You never answer me. Do you spend all day on the phone with your boyfriend then?" He asked, chuckling softly at half joke, half serious question.
"Yes. Yes I do. All day." I said, stopping his joke in it's tracks and ending the conversation.

To top it all off, several weeks ago I actually cried in one of the attorney's offices. The mistakes made at my work could actually seriously affect someone's life, and the pressure can be too much sometimes. Needless to say, I need a vacation. NOW.

So I am in the process of procrastinating packing for my vacation. FINALLY. My immediate family and I are going to spend a whole week on a big-ass houseboat on Lake Shasta in Cali with a bunch of our family friends I have known since I was born. We do it every other year, and it is fabulous. Boating, wakeboarding, tubing, sunbatheing, drinking, swimming... our first year my dad's friends were bored one night and dared us to do things for money; going down the slide in the dark with a cowboy hat on (I got $60 for that), jumping off the back of the three-story boat into the water (Cassy got $40 for that), and blowing a beer can across the hot tub because she was too drunk to do anything else (Britt got $5 for that). It's a wonderful time.

About 6 weeks ago I decided I was too fat to be on a houseboat for a whole week in a bikini. So I decided to do something about it and work hard to lose 10 pounds by the time we got on the boat. About 4 weeks in, I was in my bedroom feeling my butt to see how the progress was going. And I realized.

My butt was lopsided.

YES. Lopsided. I have an unfortunate ailment of having one leg shorter than the other. Before this, the only problem I had was that I limped only very slightly when I walked and couldn't go on a run. I used a lift, but it seems that that wasn't enough to even things all the way out, because as one side of my ass ran smoothly from buttocks into leg, the other had a slight crease, then into leg. When I found this out, I was mortified. MORTIFIED. I even stood with my back to my full length mirror and took pictures of myself in my bikini bottoms to prove it, and it was true. One side of my ass was more in shape with the other. I texted my mom frantically. "MOM! MY ASS IS LOPSIDED! OH MY GOD!" My next text said, "Don't say it, I already know. I'll look up a physical therapist tomorrow." Because moms are always right, even when they don't say it out loud.

She thought I was kidding, but realized I was serious when the next time that I saw her, I took my pants off and shoved my butt in her general direction. "SEE?? DO YOU SEE IT?!"
"Jeez, calm down, you can barely see anything. I only see something because you pointed it out, stop freaking out." She said. Ha. Probably lying for my benefit, as mothers do.

Over the next few weeks I worked hard to even my ass out, using the stair-stepper and pilates and focusing on even steps on the eliptical. It is now the night before I go home to start the vacation, and I have to say that it looks a little better. A little. Also, I've lost about 8 pounds, so GOAL ALMOST REACHED! Better than my normal goals, which usually go by the wayside as soon as I lose interest. But as my hotness was at stake, I bravely soldiered on, sweating all over my red face and treating bread and cheese like they were Fabio (aka: avoid at all costs).

Today after my last workout before vacay starts, I was red, I was sweaty, and I was proud. And then suddenly I was in pain, as my contact decided to attack my eyeball and I spent a good two minutes dangerously driving around with only half my eyesight available as I tried to re-adjust my contact, causing my eye to water all over the place. I took the contact out, I put it back in, I rubbed my eyelid, I touched my eye. I was desperate to get it fixed before I ran into oncoming traffic or worse, missed my exit. Finally it settled down, and I was triumphant. BAM! Contact conquored. I had to make a trip to Fred Meyer to stock up on beer and shampoo before starting my packing, so I walked around the store with my things and checked out with a girl, making nice conversation. Then I went home.

When I got there, I was putting my shampoo in the bathroom when I glanced at myself then did a double-take, staring at myself in horror. I looked like a fucking half-raccoon. My rebel contact eye was dark all around it from my eyeliner and mascara! I got some water and scrubbed it off, like that would help now. Then I laughed... imagine the people at the store, looking at me, red-faced, sweaty, and a black eye. Hopefully they had a good laugh out of it, even if they didn't let me hear them. It reminded me of the time I walked into a pole in Spain... but that's another story.

So yeah, it's vacation time. Margaritas, here I come.