A Writer's Life

Targeted

In my job, we use disclaimers.  Since I am used to them now, I will start this post with one.

DISCLAIMER: I love Target.  I shop there at least once a week.  Maybe more.  I know that the employees who work there are only doing their job.  I have put my time into working the floor of a retail establishment for minimum wage.   

*At Target, have you ever wondered why it's called "Target?"  From the time my daughter was two, she's been able to identify the bulls-eye.  I always thought that they were targeting low prices, but today, I found out that they are targeting the customers.  And I found this out after being in the store for two minutes and being asked three times if I needed help.

It kind of annoyed me that it happened three times in a row, so I said something to my daughter, and the girl behind the meat counter heard me.  And she told me the truth: at the Target near my house, the customers are targeted.  Whenever a customer is within a ten foot radius of any Target employee, then it's a BULLS EYE for the customer.  The darts come in slightly different forms: "Do you need help finding something?"  "Are you finding everything okay?"  "Did you need help with something?"

As soon as I learned that I was the target, I started extracting the darts.  When the guy came up to me in the dairy section, I actually was looking for a smaller carton of heavy whipping cream.  When he asked if I was looking for something, and I said YES, you would have thought I'd just told him that he'd won a million dollars.  He was beaming because he finally had a customer who didn't yell NO and run away to finish her shopping in peace.  There were no small cartons of cream, but he was still happy.

Now that I know I'm the Target, I'm preparing a list of responses to the questions.  When I'm asked in the meat department, I'm going to say, "do you have any wild ostrich?"  When I'm asked in the produce section, I'm going to ask, "can you tell me which of these salad mixes has the most nutrients for the least amount of calories?"  When I'm asked in the shampoo department, I'm going to ask, "can you tell me if it's really true that you can use Suave coconut conditioner for shampoo?"

It's either that or a measuring tape with me and make sure that I'm at least 10.1 feet away from every employee. 

Weight and See

After my first week of actually following some kind of eating plan, I am down 2.9 pounds.  Which is a good start, and as my daughter told me, it's happier to think of losing 7.1 pounds instead of losing 10 pounds.

Happy with my initial loss, I took my blood pressure at some mall store today.  My doctor told me that he couldn't rule out "white coat syndrome" with me, aka anxiety at the doctor's office (even though this high blood pressure thing just started making an appearance this summer.)  I was advised to take my blood pressure when I was out shopping, aka not around any doctors. 

So, the results today were on this electronic thing that announced my results aloud.  If there'd been a shush button, I would have pressed it because I really didn't need everyone in the store hearing that my blood pressure was ONE FORTY OVER ONE HUNDRED WHICH ACCORDING TO THE WORLD HEALTH ORGANIZATION IS HIGH.  Nice.

I wonder when the benefit of losing weight will kick in on my blood pressure.  In 7.1 pounds, will everything magically fall back into normal range?  Is there a correlation between pounds and points?

I guess I will just have to weight and see. 

Build A Rachel

We were at Fashion Place Mall today, and a lady in red approached us.  I tried to run away, but she handed me a couple of coupons that I liked, so I ascertained that she was not a Mary Kay lady trying to book a party with me.  One of the coupons was for Aeropostale, where they were having a "buy one hoodie, get one free" sale.  So, I bought one for me and one for Jaeme.

The other coupon was for one of those stores that I can't stand.  Hello, Kitty? No.  Claires?  No.  Build A Bear.  I just can't bear to be in that place (ha ha) but my daughter still loves it, even the horrible part where they ask her to kiss the bear's heart before they stuff it inside and sew said bear shut.  The whole story is a candy-colored upsell machine, and although I love the Build A Zebra that she got me for my birthday last year, I just hate stepping inside.  Today, to make it even more fun, there was a boy working behind the front counter who was loudly ringing a bell and telling everyone to clap. 

However, today at BAB, I found out that the bears and I have something in common.  Besides now adding shoes, panties, dresses, skirts, jeans, tops, costumes, and glasses to your bear...you can also buy your bear hair extensions.  In brunette or blonde.  

(Mine are blonde.)

Miles of Fun?

What’s the point of driving from your perspective?  I hate to do it, so for me, it’s mostly about getting where I want to go with the least amount time spent behind the wheel, while avoiding the Escalades, Suburbans, and Yukons that crowd the lovely streets of Draper.  The one exception is the drive from here to southern Utah, which is a relaxing drive that I love.  Most driving, however, is definitely not what I would call fun.

But people try and make it that way.   Just yesterday, I saw two people who were having fun driving (or at least I think they were.)  The first one was this guy who got out of his car at a stop light (busy intersection that I hate because I had a wreck there once) and proceeded to dance all the way back to the truck behind him.  Yes, his car was running, his driver’s side door was open, and the music was pumping.

Then I saw another guy speeding  through the “pond” of water that accumulates behind a local outlet mall.  Pond is not the right term—think small lake instead.  He gunned his engine and was going about 50 and there was (murky) water spraying everywhere.  It must have been super fun because then he turned around and did it again. Could have been a good photo op, but I didn’t have a camera handy. 

I guess I do have some fun observing other drivers.  Enough to blog about it, anyway.

Notable

My daughter is taking a logic class this semester, and the topics are fascinating.  For a recent test, we were talking about words and how the same word can have different meanings to people, depending on their age, culture, and reference points.  I found the perfect example today.  

When I was a child, if someone told me to bring a notebook to class, I would have grabbed a binder.

When I did a search for notebook on the Walmart.com site (I am writing an article about notebooks, the old-fashioned kind!), guess what came up?  A list of notebook computers.  Which you could definitely also take to class with you!

The next time someone asks you to buy a 499 notebook, don’t just say yes.  They may be talking about a $4.99 binder stocked with notebook paper—or they could be requesting a Dell.

Stuck in the middle

After my skinny jeans story, I thought it was important to muddle through my middle story.  So, here I am, at this particular age, and I have what the authors of the 6 Week Cure would call a "middle-aged middle" and what I would call the muffin top.  It's not the yummy kind of muffin top featured on Seinfeld, either.

Now, not everyone knows that I have m.t. because I'm pretty good at dressing around it.  And as long as I don't wear tight jeans and a fitted t-shirt, I can pretty much keep it under wraps.  However, the eating of muffins (and other corresponding sugar and flour concoctions) has contributed to more than just a few "vanity" pounds: it may also be connected to a few recent bouts of high blood pressure readings over the summer.  My doctor rx'd more exercise and a ten pound loss, so here I am: back to a low carb diet until I lose another 8.4 pounds.

I know, I know.  Just what you wanted.  More posts about me losing weight.  Don't worry, I'll have a hair extension post for you in just a couple of days.  It will be just like the good old blogging days. 

Rachel

-8.4 to go

The Skinny on Jeans

I was never even going to try a pair on.  After all, I've watched enough episodes of "What Not to Wear" to remember that bootcut is the way to go.  And although I'm a single-digit size, I'll never be skinny, which I thought meant that skinny jeans were just never going to work on me.  I never planned to try them on or to buy a pair, but a recent discussion on my nutrition board, on how short women should try on skinny jeans to elongate their legs got me to thinking about it.  And then I thought about it again when J. and I saw a local diva-ite's daughter trying them on today.  That's when I realized that my daughter might be able to wear a size 0 in junior's...and that's when she decided that SHE (of the same build as me) decided that she wanted to try on a pair of skinny jeans.

What's a supportive mom to do?  Of course I went to Aeropostale and tried on skinny jeans, too.  And then to Wet Seal.  And finally to 5 7 9 where we found skinny jeans that we both liked for less than fifteen dollars per pair.   I was actually so surprised that they didn't make me look heavy, that I bought myself a pair.

Now all I need is a pair of skinny boots to go with my skinny jeans.

P.S.  Did I mention that I'm thrilled that my daughter is just about three years away from being old enough so that I can steal her clothes and wear them?  As it is, I'm thrilled that she can wear the smallest of junior's sizes because it means that we can shop in the same stores, and that I never have to go into The Children's Place again. 

Falling for Feathers

When I worked at a different magazine, one of my most favorite things to do was spot trends in fashion.  I haven't gone trend spotting for a while, however, when I'm at the mall on a Sunday afternoon, I can't help but notice what's in.  This fall, the feathers are flying...onto t-shirts, dresses, and earrings.  There's a mix of faux feathers, illustrated feathers, and featherlike brush strokes on graphic tees.  I didn't happen to see a feather in a cap, but if you find one, put it in yours and call yourself stylish.  I guess feathers are the next wing of "animal prints"...watch for feathers to be fluttering onto shoes and purses near you, oh my!

P.S.  Title for this blog post is from my daughter, J.  I was going to call this "Feathers For Fall," but she suggested "Falling For Feathers," which I liked much better. 

Don't be Chicken

Did you know that you can get a value meal at chik fila for $6.13 for one person or that you can roast a chicken at home for $1.50 per person and still have leftovers for the next day?  Of course, at chik fila, you're gonna get fries with that, and a drink, too, and the service is so super fast that you'll be eating chicken in two minutes instead of two hours. 

Of course, roasting a chicken is just as easy as driving a car through a drive-through window because all you have to do is buy a neck-free chicken, put it in a pan, and cook it at 350 for 2 hours.  Plus, along with the neck-free thing, it's also free from breading and preservatives and can count as a "whole food."

Roasted chicken smells fabulous and cooking one makes you feel like a real cook; chik fila, I will admit, also has a delicious smell, but since it doesn't involve turning on an oven and putting something in a pan, it's not going to fool anyone into thinking that you're some kind of chef.  

When you roast your own chicken, you get a chance to save the wishbone and get a wish.  Of course, at chik fila, you do have a chance to meet the chik fila cow, and if you're into free food and have a kid, there's this night when they can do a craft and eat for free.  That's if you're willing to be subjected to screaming toddlers in the playplace, something that I lost my patience for about seven years ago.  At home, there's no cow, but roasted chicken and rice is practically free, and if you're got some crayons, you can call that a craft, and it's relatively quiet, even if you're watching Tom and Jerry.

I agree with the chik fila cow.  Eat more chicken. 

Ant Chant

Today I watched

All the cars

Colonizing the parking lot

(the one by target and the bookstore)

And thought about how they

All looked like ants

Foraging in a group

Following a the pheromone trail

Or the smell of French fries

And making a bee-line

(ants are related, you know)

To the chik-fila.

 

From Wikipedia: “A forager that finds food marks a trail on the way back to the colony; this trail is followed by other ants.”