For many months, I lost touch with the physical world while immersing myself in a virtual political one. To sustain that, I had too much coffee and too much beer; coupled with the fact I was no longer getting outside to move, I gained a lot of weight.
I’m not too concerned with my weight as an isolated factor. I see it as a symptom, not itself a problem. Happily, after almost four years of figuring out which foods hurt my body and which ones heal it, I know exactly how to tackle the root causes of my feeling-crappy-ness. Doing so, I’ll feel much, much better … and my weight will change as a result.
What had bugged me, then? My clothing! I got to the point where I had four skirts and zero pairs of pants that fit me. I didn’t want to invest a bunch of money in clothing I’d only wear once or twice, so I spent a month wearing my least favorite clothing before deciding I had to change something.
How, I wondered, could I spend only a few dollars to cover a transition period? The answer came to me by virtue of my work in software licensing.
For ages, most companies bought their own hardware to run their software. Maintaining hardware was expensive and time-consuming, so that cloud computing was pretty exciting: all the software benefits, none of the hardware costs!*
Using software in the cloud, someone else has to maintain the hardware. With that “someone else” investing in all that infrastructure, the client company can use a little or a lot of hardware capacity … without having to constantly worry about hardware itself.
In a word, cloud computing offers easy scalability.
I needed that, but in clothing–something that would easily scale up and down with its hardware (me).
You know what provides scalability? Maternity clothes!
I bought a few pairs of pants and a few pairs of shorts. For the first time in a month or so, I actually felt good in what I was wearing.
It cost me all of $40, and will keep me covered across many sizes.
So, hey! Here’s to scalability, and making small investments to feel a little better now!
* There are plenty of other costs, by the way. Just don’t expect techies to care too much while oohing and aahing over new technologies!
I’ve kept a journal since I was eleven or twelve.
My mom read my journal starting when I was eleven or twelve.
I sought out every possible hiding spot in hopes I’d find the one she couldn’t discover; she, knowing me and our house better than I understood, found them all.
I couldn’t admit defeat. Hope compelled me to keep searching for that mystical place of unfindability.
The search became ingrained. We’re talking the kind of ingrained where I instinctively still hide anything and everything containing any journal-like text a full five years after my mom’s death. Because, as you can see from reading my blog at this very moment, my life is shrouded in secrecy.
I recently hid my iPad. Read more…