Scared

The last time I was this scared, I think I was gestating a human being. I participated in an interactive chat with the admissions department of my first choice school and left feeling like I was going to be ill. Most of the other applicants were foreign students asking questions about Visas and TOEFL waivers. Then of course there were the applicants that said they had been working in finance for seven years and wondered if it was really necessary for them to take the GMAT. Question after question rolled in about the number of applicants this year in response to economic downturn. The admissions department firmly refused to answer questions about how many applications they had received and responded to. All I know is that 120 students will comprise the Class of '11 in their full-time MBA program and another 120 in the nights and weekend MBA program.

I also learned that the average GMAT score was a 660, not a 620 as I had thought.

I sank a little lower in my chair when I read that. I thought I was a strong applicant before I started studying for the damn test. I have a great GPA from a good school, but do I really know what I'm doing applying for business school? I feel like I know so little about so much that I don't even know what I'm ignorant about.

All of this has brought up many of the insecurities that I keep down most of the time. I feel fat and lazy - disgusting. I haven't exercised in over two months and when I scratch the back of my arm, I can feel my back fat roll around my bra strap. I can't even really stand to look in the mirror, especially since I had another chin procedure done last week and I'm swollen and bruised. I've been falling asleep at work for the past two weeks, even though I've made a conscious effort to stop that behavior - mostly because I like to think that I can control it. I can't say, "I need to push myself harder" because I can't. Even after sleeping a 8-9 hours a night, I still fall asleep mid e-mail. I can't wake up before Zac and study. I can barely get myself out of bed. I can study after he goes to sleep at night, as long as I never try to get less than 8 hours of sleep. Less than that and curbs around Houston start to quiver with concrete fear when they see the front tires of my car aimed for them when I fall asleep while driving.

I wish I had less to do at work. Right now every task is taking me longer than I expect because I can't actually focus on one thing in particular. My mind is everywhere and nowhere. The only thing that I can count on is the feeling of failure in my stomach and anxiety constricting my chest.

That Bad

I rescheduled the GMAT exam for January 16th after taking my first full-length practice exam and getting a score that wouldn't qualify me for entrance into a business program at a community college. I've never been great at standardized testing, but I really, really bombed that test. I actually gasped when I saw the score come up on the screen. As in, "Really? That's what I got?" I've never been in that quartile before.

I immediately called my reinforcements, also known as people who are amazing good at standardized testing and could kick my butt any given day at trivia. The consensus among the reinforcements was to move back the date of the test to give myself more time to study. Apparently my geometry skills are really that bad. Let's not even mention my ability to determine the sufficiency of data. That's a skill set that I failed to cultivate during my existence. I've always gone with the, "If someone nice tells you something, then it must be true" mantra, which has only let me down five or ten times.

The folks in the admissions department recommend giving schools six weeks from the date of your test to receive your score. This includes receiving the scores for the graded essays, which are evaluated by a computer and a human. A second human is called in to force a peace treaty between the two entities if the scores on your essay are more than .5 off. Anyways, January 16th gives the schools approximately 5 1/2 weeks to receive my scores before the second deadline in late February. It was the best I could do.

Since my first practice exam I've studied and raised my score 40 points. With that score, I could actually get into the local community college, although I still probably couldn't get a MBA. AEP reminded me that it was ok to be on the low end of a range of scores. I reminded her that it's important to have a score that is at least in spitting distance of the range. Somehow I think my pity factor is on the low end. A single Mom with a liberal arts degree and a non-profit background probably isn't as rare as it used to be.

I hate standardized testing. Review courses for the GMAT cost anywhere between $600 (online) and $1,700 (in person, over a weekend or spread out over three months). I would have to infer from this data that the more resources you have, in terms of time and money, to devote to the test, the higher test score you will receive, unless you are a natural genius that remembers every lesson from 8th grade geometry and 10th grade English.

It all just makes me feel behind. I feel like I should have started studying back over Thanksgiving when I got my first book from the library. One of my reinforcements started studying for her standardized test three months before the actual exam date. Every day, for three months, she studied. I'm looking at two weeks and wondering how the hell I'm going to convince an admissions officer to let me in. I imagine saying something along the lines of, "I promise that I'm not stupid! Promise" in my admissions interview.

Update

Hmm...how did that month happen to go by? What was I doing during December? It's interesting that I don't remember.

Here are some updates on life, in bullet form because I woke up this morning fearful that I was going to click the wrong button on the GMAT and fail miserably. My brain needs a little organization, and possibly some anti-anxiety medication:

• I turned 28! I've heard good things about this age. I'm looking forward to leaving 27 behind, even if it does push me one year closer to 30.

• FOB has started paying child support. Right before Christmas I received $170 from the Attorney General's Office of Texas. I assume that either it came from the FOB or the AG's office luvs me and decided to share their Christmas spirit.

• No, I don't know how to format this so the bullets are closer together. I've been trying. Looking at the html didn't help me much. Sorry.

• I just got back from a whirlwind trip (or two very long plane rides early in the morning where I showcased my refined ability to sleep while sitting up in an uncomfortable position) to Seattle for Christmas. Seattle was snowy, icy, a little foggy, and all together filled with precipitation in a multitude of forms. Turns out that a state that gets snow once every five years doesn't have a fleet of snow plows on hand. Parking lots, side streets, and residential areas went completely unplowed for two weeks. While walking in the parking lot of a mall on Christmas Eve and navigating the slush, ice, and water holes, Zac fell down in an ankle-deep hole in the ice. His pants got soaked from the water and he cried. I wanted to cry as well. I had forgotten to where my waterproof hiking boots because only in Seattle would appropriate footwear to a major shopping venue require five eyelet holes.

• Seeing my extended family was great, although a couple of cousins seem to not recognize me. I spent a good five hours at my great Aunt's house repressing the urge to say, "Hi! I'm B. We spent 18 years eating Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner together. This is Zac, my son. He's three and a half years-old. Last time you saw me I was pregnant on my way to Hawaii. I know I've probably changed since then considering I was a giant whale while pregnant, but can you at least pretend that we're related?"

• January 8th is GMAT day. It makes me a little sick to my stomach to think about.

• Although I like to martyr myself by saying "I have two jobs, and I'm forced to volunteer to support a Montessori school, and waa waa waa...my life is so hard," in actuality, Pier 1 has dropped me down to 1 or 2 shifts a week, for a grand total of 6-8 hours of work. I'm wondering whether to see this as a blessing or if I should get a third job. I didn't really view my paycheck from Pier 1 as "extra money". I viewed it as a way to pay my cable bill and keep the electricity on.

• Still dating Dew. We are officially "in a relationship" on facebook. There was actually this funny moment where he and I debated over e-mail the merits of going public with our relationship on a social networking site. For Christmas he received a set of keys to my apartment, just in case he ever needs them. He's officially the first person, outside of my father, that I've ever keyed. At least now he can lock the door behind him when he leaves at 6am. I'm practical if nothing else. Dew has started blogging.

Perfection is a Tough Place

I probably could look back in my personal history and pick a worse time to be studying for the GMAT exam. There is the time when I took the GRE. That was pretty awful. I was pregnant in my first trimester with Zac. I did fairly well considering that I had to go to the bathroom every 10 minutes and only briefly glanced at the review book. Looking back, though, I was only two years out of college and had been teaching English and learning a hard language. If my brain is a car, it was finely tuned and running smoothly then. I can't say as much for my brain now. I frequently forget where I park the car and have been known to fall asleep while sitting up. Really, the only worse time than now to take a graduate entrance exam would have been the periods when I was severely depressed and in and out of hospitals.

Yet I've decided to study for a difficult exam and enter graduate school, upon admission to the school of course, in summer 2009. I've been debating this decision for the past six years. I graduated college in 2002 and finally, just finally, decided that this was the year that I should get a graduate degree. It feels like now or never, even though rationally I know that isn't the case. I just feel committed. I bought a study book and CD. I have asked my people to be my references, for the first time ever. I've requested copies of my transcript to be sent to various schools. I'm farther along in the process now than I've ever been in the past. Usually I just look at programs and dream wistfully about possibly studying again in an academic environment.

Thinking about getting a MBA has been completely new to me. I always thought I'd get my masters in public policy or international development. I didn't even think about a MBA until I was sitting in my last fundraising class and the speaker talked about getting her MBA because it was one of the most widely recognizeable degrees across the non-profit and for-profit sector. Something struck a chord in me. Maybe it was because I'm feeling so burned out. I thought I was dedicated to non-profit work, but all of the work on nights and weekends, the fights to earn a decent market wage, and the non-existent benefits have started to wear on me. If I include my senior year of college when I did an internship for a non-profit, I've been in the non-profit field for seven years. Eighteen months of that time, I lived in Mongolia and ate more sheep meat then one person should consume. Since I've been back in America, I've been my own administrative assistant for longer than I care to admit. I'm getting tired of working alone in a office. I'd like to work collaboratively with a team, to be excited about going to work, to have coworkers that I can talk to, at the very least professionally.

Part of wanting a MBA is wanting the chance to experience another kind of work environment. I'm ready for a change. God help me, though, this change is coming at a high cost. I feel like I need to be on top of my game to pull off working two jobs, "volunteering", and studying for the GMAT, and applying to schools.

Last night I stayed up later than I wanted working on a short essay for an application to a "Women's Weekend" at one of the schools I'm applying to (all three are in the Houston area. I can't imagine moving right now, not when I still have boxes that I haven't unpacked and roaches that I haven't killed yet). I was invited to apply for the weekend, which made me instantly long for Smith. I realized that in my essay about why I would like to pursue my MBA at such and such business school, I didn't even write about their support of women professionals and how much their active recruitment of female MBA students means to me. I didn't write about it because it feels instinctive to me. I'm more shocked when colleges DON'T do that. Only 30% of incoming MBA graduate students are women. It's an understatement to say that I appreciate institutions supporting the advancement of women. I was spoiled by attending a college that was dedicated to that purpose.

Unfortunately, this post has taken me almost two full weeks to write because I just can't seem to find enough time for everything that I need to do. The mandatory volunteer work involved me drafting up a solicitation letter and printing a 1,000 copies of the letter, solicitation card, and envelopes. I had to cut the solicitation cards into thirds and staple the entire packet (letter, card, envelope) together for distribution. Now I need to write another letter for my own organization and make sure that we pass the administrative and site review that's scheduled for tomorrow.

I know that I don't need to be perfect, but I need to be pretty damn good and the realization of that is hard sometimes. In order to make this all work, I need to avoid falling asleep in an idling car for an hour in the parking lot of my son's preschool. I need to keep doing the dishes and unloading the dish washer so the ants don't find Zac's syrupy plates and milk-rimmed glasses. I need to rely on family, friends, partners, and coworkers to help and support me. There is too much to do and not enough of me to be able to accomplish everything.

I'm never going to be perfect.

Can of Worms

Seems like I was right to be worried that writing about my weight would open up a can of worms inside my head. I've started obsessing about daily fluctuations and worrying that the scale is going to keep creeping upwards and upwards. With the holidays coming, I'm wondering how I can possibly keep losing weight. It seems like my best bet would be to maintain until I can figure out how to work exercise back into my daily routine.

When I lived at my parents house, I would wake up early in the morning and go for walks. Now that Zac and I live alone, I haven't been able to do that. I did wake up one morning and put on Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred . It was the first time that I've ever tried a workout video for anything other than yoga. Once I got over the awkwardness of doing jumping jacks in my own living room, I enjoyed the tough workout and my legs felt it the next day. Once I'm able to exercise again, I'm definitely going to be trying out some of the other workouts on the DVD.

Not being able to exercise is the second part of the can of worms I was mentioning before. I can't exercise right now because my stomach is riddled with deep, painful bruises. Short of being beaten, I can't really imagine anything more painful over a large portion of my body. Ahh...vanity. If you can afford to get liposuction or a tummy tuck, take my advice and just do it.

August 29, 2008 - Before Photo

I've been doing lipotherapy since August and each time I get it done (alternating between my genetic double chin and my distended post-pregnancy belly), I'm amazed at how much it hurts. Turns out that the process of injecting a chemical solution into your fat cells to explode the cell walls hurts. Who would have figured? The spa I go to ensures me that the pain is worth it for the results. I am seeing results, but I'll be honest, not being able to bend over for three days and having people ask me if I've been in a car accident when they see my head wrapped up is embarrassing. So embarrassing, in fact, that I didn't want to admit that I was getting it done to my coworkers, or on this blog.

10.29.08 - Two of Eight Treatments

So, yeah. That's the full story. I'm struggling with my weight and getting a cosmetic procedure done to help me with pockets of fat that would be there regardless if I lost 30 more pounds or not. That's my confession. My secret can of worms.

(edited to add: For the love of all that's holy, can someone please comment? I feel like I'm exposing myself to the world and getting 1) shocked silence or 2) extreme boredom. Also, does anyone else think that I have large ears? I never noticed before I started being photographed from the side once a month.)

Less of Me

When I stepped on the scale in August 2007, I weighed 204 pounds. I gasped when I saw the number come up on the digital screen. The last time I had been that heavy was when I was pregnant with Zac. I had just gone through intensive out-patient therapy for depression, lost my job, and was using food to comfort myself on a nightly basis. I knew that it had to stop. At 5'5, 204 was putting me in pre-diabetic, hypertension range.

I started losing weight very, very slowly. I joined WW briefly and then quit, but I didn't go back on Jenny Craig or Quick Weight Loss. I started trying not to binge at night when the panic and sadness found there way back to me.

In September 2007 I started my new job and was able to normalize my eating patterns for breakfast and lunch. Two packets (eventually down to 1 1/2) of weight control oatmeal for breakfast, one morning snack, and a Lean Cuisine for lunch. For dinner I usually ate what my parents made and tried to eat after dinner.

Part of the reason that I haven't written about my weight loss is because it feels like it isn't all completely under my control. In November I started a medication that had a couple of huge side effects: 1) I fell asleep all the time, including while driving a car, during meetings, at work, and while watching tv. It was like I was constantly sedated for about six months; 2) It decreased my appetite significantly. For the first time in my life, I wasn't constantly thinking about food or when I would eat next.

Over the months (and after more than a few flat tires from running into curbs while dozing off at the wheel), the fatigue lessened. I started to feel more in control of my body and what I put into it. I lost more weight and started exercising. I would wake up in the mornings before work and go for a walk that eventually turned into a run.

More than a year later, I've lost almost 35 pounds. I stepped on the scale this morning at 173. That's actually under my pre-pregnancy weight and closer to what I weighed in college while I was working out twice a day.

Now I'm living by myself with Zac in an apartment, working two jobs, and have a healthy dose of mandatory "volunteering" that I have to do and I've found myself slipping back into old habits. Those days of comforting myself with food aren't completely gone. The difference now is that I know what I'm doing and I usually feel sick while I'm eating. and let's call it what it really is. I use the term "comforting" rather loosely, especially since I usually feel sick and angry at myself for overeating. What I'm really doing is binging and I end up hating myself for it. Almost immediately afterwards I wish that I hadn't done it. I wish that I was strong enough to let the urge pass me by.

I have 20 more pounds to go until I get to my goal weight. Honestly, I weighed more than 150 at my high school graduation, so I'm not sure how realistic that number is, but it's just a number to me. I feel healthier than I did a year ago. I'm generally happier with how I look and I don't see myself going off any of my medication anytime soon so at least I don't have to worry that I'll regain the weight from that. I just wish that I had a better handle on the binging and purging cycle. The next 20 pounds by the hardest ones to lose if I don't figure something out.

Karma

I was hoping that I had a little extra karma built up so that when I threw some negative energy out into the universe (aimed squarely at the FOB), it wouldn't immediately come right back at me. As my friend Betsy used to say, "Karma has wide hips and what you send out always comes swinging back around." In my case, it came swinging back around with the flu and diagnosis of strep throat.

I knew as soon as I woke up on Saturday that I had strep. The last time I had it was my sophomore year in college when my tonsils constricted so far that I was having problems swallowing. Not surprisingly, I had a tonsillectomy at the age of 19 and not had strep throat since then. Any idea how hard it is to actually get strep when you don't have any tonsils? It's pretty hard. Doctors actually treat reoccurring strep infections with tonsillectomies. I was unlucky enough to find a way around the lack of tonsil problem and still contract group A streptococcus. I've been on penicillin for almost a week and I'm still sneezing and coughing out chest congestion.

Regardless, someone looked cute on Halloween. I actually went to a wedding right after work on Halloween so my parents took Zac trick-or-treating. The Yankee in me died a little bit when he told me that he wanted to go as a cowboy. "Cowboys say 'Yeee-Haww!'," he'd shout at me, usually while driving. So, one night at all-purpose store, we picked up a cowboy hat and vest outfit.

I was told that he had a great time. My Mom said that he would let her hold his hat, but he never once relinquished his candy. He's a very smart cowboy.

Fortunately his costume is so big that two years from now he can be a cowboy again. At the very least, he can learn to dress stylishly in a vest and jacket for kindergarten.

"Where are my feet Mom? Nana and Poppa buried my feet!! Good thing I have this candy."

Sorry for the late posting of Halloween pictures, but it's been a rough week. I'm hoping that by sometime Sunday I'll start feeling better. I have a fundraising event tomorrow morning and working at Pier 1 tomorrow night. In lieu of karma, I'd settle for some more energy.