I started blogging two years ago to track my progress on two of my short term goals.

Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to proudly announce that, yesterday, I sent a big fat check for the whole remaning balance on my last credit card. And as soon as the check is deposited, I'll be completely free of credit card debt!

I didn't think I'd see this moment for another 3 years. But 2.5 years, 20k, humility and restraint, boredom and claustrophobia, fast food and fasting, lots of bitching, all culminated in this moment...

I'se free! I'se free!

(But I've got another 5 pounds to go to make my weight goal, so we'll save the big celebration for later.)

I did a Google search to find some information about sensitive skin and rashes and the like, and I came across this page, which contains a bunch of posts from a dermatology forum.

I noticed that a ton of posts were about "[this or that] on penis." I spent a good 15 minutes or so reading through those posts. Damn hilarious! (Sorry, dudes.) Tears came to my eyes. Guys are SO amusing. They are totally anecdotal about their experiences, and go into such excrutiating detail about their penises and symptoms, use lots of similes, ... "like red and purple spots the size of match heads" and "very small lesions that look like a mountain with the top blown off." Girls don't do that sort of thing.

A strange pick-me-up for the end of a very boring workday. Suddenly I don't feel as bad about my hypersensitive skin. Now it's time to go home.

I've been watching Extreme Makeover. I always cringe and "ewww" and shield my eyes when during the surgery room scenes. It's fascinating how much of a positive difference plastic surgery can make in the people's looks and lives. Now, whenever I see new faces, I automatically imagine how they can be surgically enhanced.

Watching the show made me seriously consider having minor laser resurfacing done on my face to possibly get rid of the scars left behind by the poison oak rashes and acne in previous years. I'm just about out of debt and feel like I owe myself a nice, vainly girly reward. Something more than monthly pedicures from now on.

So I had a consultation with a dermatologist last week, and she told me that laser treatment on my face would be overkill and not very helpful. Goshdarnit. Of course, she wouldn't let me leave the office without her recommending laser hair removal for my armpits and anywhere else I'd like hair permanently removed.

So I got my armpits zapped this morning. It hurt quite a bit. But the pain was fleeting. I'm supposed to go in two more times, 5 and 10 weeks from now. For the price I paid for three treatments, they better work!

I am woman, hear me roar complain.

In case you didn't know, it's hard being woman. But you already knew that.

IQ statistics say that at my age, and probably since 25, men are more intelligent than women. I believe it, I just need to fucking accept it.

Better to be male than female in this world. I figured it out when I was a mere lass, no more than 8 years old. I've been agonizing about it since.

Now, I've had nearly 30 years as a woman, and I'm tired. Tired of periods. Tired of being the shorter, weaker, fatter, more fragile, less intelligent - albeit fairer - gender. Fairer schmairer. I want to be compensated!

Sirs, I would like to be compensated for being at such a great and obvious disadvantage. I don't feel as if I've truly experienced the advantages of being a woman, other than being able to wear concealer and bras without shame, have heterosexual sex with Babe, and get a free meal or drink every now and then...

What are the strange and mysterious advantages of being a woman that I'm not experiencing? Am I supposed to be looking forward to childbirth, as if it's a woman's one redeeming value and ultimate source of pride and accomplishment? Should I break down, swallow what's left of my pride as a childless female, and allow/expect guys to open doors for me and lay down their coats on top of puddles in acknowledgement of my more fragile condition and disposition? Is that compensation enough?

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

Damn I need to get out out more.

I saw Kill Bill last nite. It was ok. The thing I liked the most about the movie is Gogo, the ball and chain wielding schoolgirl/killer with spidery lower eyelashes and white knee-high socks. Totally did it for me. Hm... the whole ensemble would make a great Halloween costume...

I played football on Saturday. It was fun, but it affected my whole weekend. My leg muscles were so sore afterwards that I had to take Tylenol that evening and on Sunday to be able to get out of bed and out of the house.

No matter how much or how little happens in my life, I never feel as if I have enough time to blog about it... which is probably more of a good thing than a bad thing.

It freaks me out that in mere 14 years I will have aged 42 years since the day I was born.

So I've realized (not recently) that I am not a crowd-pleaser. I know that my personality and company are enjoyed by a select few. Emphasis on few...

I'm not sure how I feel about that. I think that I should either feel unhappy about it, or special, or something other than just "hmm..." I don't feel enough of anything to motivate me to try to become someone more universally likeable.

I've been successful wearing these genes... these blue genes.

Predispositions, inclinations, tendencies, addictions. Identified, cataloged, and accepted... for the most part.

We only get one chance to live a happy life. My cousin reminded me of that yesterday evening. Hearing that from him, of all people, really made my day.

The Yims survive themselves.

Butterflies in the breeze...

Yay! My cousin Doug is blogging again.

I feel like a victim of myself today.

Sorry, Babe.

To be loved, I would be famous. I would be hated to be so loved.

Just give it to me every day, and I'll be fine!

I have 6 of 7 blog posts that I started over the last couple of months but never finished. One of these days I'll finish them all. Probably not today, though.

Today's stress level: HIGH

We played poker again last night. They've got a two-night-a-week thing going on now.

I've been seriously pokered out for almost a month now. Haven't really wanted to play, but end up going through the motions without much enjoyment.

At first glance, you might think I haven't been so keen about poker lately because I haven't been getting the cards for weeks. But it's more than that. The thing is, I'm playing like shit, I know it, and I haven't taken any steps to change it.

Everyone's playing a lot looser now. So I'm supposed to be betting more aggressively, but I haven't been. That's hard for me to do, and I haven't even resolved to try harder. I just don't really feel like pokering away my freetime and money anymore.

I think I'm just tired of doing the same thing with the same people all the time, and despite spending all those hours with them, not feeling as if I'm developing closer or more meaningful relationships with them. Sometimes it seems as if they don't really give a shit about my life outside of poker, and they're happy to see me just because I add another sucker to the table.

I wonder if I'd make a good boyfriend (either straight or gay) if I was a guy.

I think I'd be mediocre. I'd be too fawning. I'd try too hard all the time, be much too soft and sensitive, and get walked all over. I'd always let her or him win the arguments. I'd just give up and give in too soon and often. I'd frequently and regularly be used. I probably wouldn't like or respect myself as much as the man in a relationship.

For this reason and others, I would not choose to be a man, given the option... even though I still do greatly envy men. I imagine I would have and do have better relationships as a woman.