gratuitous baby pic of the week #... i've lost count.

tater tot has teef! a very big day indeed.

'tis my birthday.

me minus 27 years.

i am 33 today.

"the age Jesus was when he was crucified," The Cute likes to point out.

i'm spending it pretty quietly today. hanging at a local cafe, sending out some size ate p.r. emails, reading some Jane Kenyon poetry. later on, i'm going for drinks and dinner with a few friends. i was not feeling the big, sparkly birthday bash.

"where's your birthday tiara?" the Cute asked me yesterday.

"i'm wearing it on the inside this year."

i'm very very happy with my life these days. i told The Cute last night that i wouldn't change a single thing about my life right now. i do believe i am right where i am supposed to be right at this very moment. i don't mean i don't want more... bigger and better things, but i'm satisfied, pleased, thrilled with today and now and all of its blessings. i'm even dealing with the recent vicious outbreak of zits on my chin with relative calm. they just don't matter in comparison, do they?

nope.

but i mean, really. 33-years old and i still breakout?!?! not fair. i'll bet Jesus didn't have zits.

less hair = more me.

from a friends' blog - Twin Peeks. "C," by the way, is cancer (she said in whispered tones).

So in between laughing, I've decided that this should be a year of change. This is one of those things that happens either a) from age or b) after having "C" or c) perhaps a little of both.

I've decided to enroll in a writing course. I've only been talking about doing this for about, hmm, five or more years. I attended an open house at The New School last week and after talking to a seemingly suicidal poet and a chain smoking novelist, I decided I to sign up for Writing for Women's Magazines.

Last Friday, the day before the 41st anniversary of my being here on earth, I went to get my hair cut. The 2nd time in two weeks (far from typical). I opened a magazine, ripped out a picture and said, "Chop it off." B looked at me like I was crazy... Are you sure? she said... Yep. Get rid of it.

And so I did. I officially have short hair. Well, long short hair. Within the past three months, I've probably lost about 12 inches. In hair that is. And I can't tell you how good it feels. We all cling to our hair. Some of us hide behind it. Some choose to make a statement with it. Some wear it one way or another b/c a
boyfriend likes it that way. Some have no choice but to lose it. I decided that I put too much emphasis on it. Not that I don't style and slop some gel into it now. But I thought by cutting it, there'd be some Samson effect and my Bed Bath Beyond sheets would turn to salt or we'd fall into a recession.

Oh, shoot. Did I do that?

I kid.

Really, it was quite cathartic, losing all this hair. It's as if it had the anti-Samson effect. I feel that much stronger!

Many people have asked me, Liz, how do you think you've changed since this summer?

Well, I can't exactly put my finger on it, but, all of a sudden the little things like hair don't seem to matter. Less seems to be more. More seems to be a lot more. It's all good. Take it all with a grain of salt. Yadda, yadda, yadda, yadda.

My suggestion to YOU(!) is, do something today that you never normally do. Walk to work a different route. Wear green eye shadow. Eat a pomegranate. Make a concerted effort to make eye contact, smile and say hi to everyone you pass. These little changes will make a huge difference. Even just for a minute or two. I promise, you'll kinda like being hair, not there.

i chopped more of my hair off recently, and i keep getting closer to it's natural color. i too feel stronger, more ME with this lid. i may be less "pretty" in some people's eyes because i don't have long, wavy, blond hair, but that's okay. ME is better than pretty any day.

just so you know...

first, let me say how much it means to me that you all believe in size ate so strongly. with every email, every comment, you light the fire under my bum. a fire that does, unfortunately, occasionally peter out from time to time. i need the lighter fluid of your words.

but lately, i've gotten a couple of messages along the lines of:

what the fuck is going on with your show? why aren't you touring the world yet?

and my answer is:

i'm working on it.

i have a couple of tentative shows booked for the spring, and i'm working on more, but size ate is, in every sense of the word, a one-woman show. i have an administrative staff of one - me - and there is only so much i can do. sure, i could spend every free moment working on my show and getting it out there, but i also have, i am very proud to say, a LIFE, a life outside of my show and it's cause. i have a full-time job i want to do well. i have a boyfriend whom i love very much, and whom i want to spend time lollygagging with. i have amazing friends that i want to see and share chocolate bars with. i have a bed i want to spend long hours sleeping in. i have books i want to read. i have presents to wrap and errands to run. i have a LIFE! seven years ago, lightheaded and starving, i never thought i'd have one, and i'm not gonna take it for granted.

trust me, i spend plenty of time feeling guilty about not doing enough regarding the show, knowing that it's important and could help many girls and women if i can only get them to see it, but when the guilt practically overwhelms me, i stop and ask myself:

well, why the hell did you choose to get better in the first place?

so i could live my life, that's why. and that's just what i'm doing. my show is a part of that life, a part i am very proud of no doubt, but just a part, not the end all be all. not my raison d'etre. ya know, i can spend an entire day NOT thinking about eating disorders and body image, and that, my dears, is the whole point.

FREEDOM!!!

and here's the thing: if i don't fully live my own life, i'm not setting a very good example for those girls and women who are struggling to overcome their own eating disorders and body image issues. that may sound like a cop out, but i don't care. i didn't write my show and start this blog so i could develop a NEW AND IMPROVED! obsession. i did it to get over the old one, and to help others get over theirs. if i worked non-stop on size ate, it'd become an obsession, a different, less life-threatening obsession sure, but an obsession nonetheless. an obsession that would keep me from truly enjoying every morsel of this sweet life, morsels i'm not willing to give up, and neither should you. life is all too short for that kind of nonsense.

oh, so based on the contents of your brain, i think you'd want an empty shot glass.

sunday was The Cute's birthday. he had a little gathering of friends down at The Bleecker Street Bar that night. i made The Cute's favorite recipe for chocolate cake - Ina Garten's chocolate espresso cake - but i made cupcakes instead. i was desperately eager to use my brand-spankin' new Oneida cupcake carrier! a divinely perfect Christmas gift from r.

"that is so very Margaux-y," The Cute says.

at the end of the night, i'm enjoying my reign as Cupcake Fairy, walking around the bar handing out leftover cupcakes to strangers (i wish i could get paid to do this).

i approach the bar and offer the remaining two cupcakes to two guys. one is the bartender, and one, i determine by the girth of his forearms and his no-nonsense demeanor, must be the bouncer. they thank me, and the bartender returns the favor by offering me a free shot.

"oh, okay, but it's gotta be something girly and sweet."

"really?" the bouncer says. "something girly and sweet?"

"uh, yeah. why?"

"well, based on your size i thought you'd want something hard and biting."