I care very much what people think

I do. I must. If I didn't care, then why would I feel so guilty about not using the sewing machine my mother-in-law gave me three Christmases ago? I don't sew, so, why would I use it?
Sewing machines are very cool, btw, but I just do not want to take the time (or my small reserve of self patience) to learn how to use it. Perhaps, someday, when I'm a mother, I'll have more time (riiiiight).
I was sitting upon the toilet this morning, and, besides the obvious wave of expected relief, I felt another wave. A you-are-doing-just-fine wave. I'm not sure what exactly has been going on in my body/mind/soul this month, but August has been really heavy for me. I had a could-I-be-pregnant scare, conflicting discussions with my life mate on how to handle it (had I truly been pregnant), my cycle went all to f*ck, I was crying on and off for two weeks straight (one time the trigger was a rippin' annoying Rod Stewart song), and I had a friend's wife call me in the early morning hours to question my fidelity and, basically, call me a slut. All of this made me question my role as a woman, a woman friend, a wife, a sister, and a feminist. My body has been changing, and I don't know why or when it started to happen. It has been feeling things differently. I need to accept this gift from Mother Earth, or else. I will go crazy if I don't, and I feel like I've already had a touch of that recently, and it didn't feel good.

LIST TIME!!!

I will try to:

pat myself on the head daily
regularly make a list of things I've done in a day, not the things I need to do
find time for yoga, and, if I truly enjoy it, give more time for it
appreciate my legs for being strong, not flabby
defend myself if falsely accused-in a classy, memorable (blog worthy)way

That's enough for now. Yes, I will add "know when i've done enough before doing too much" to the list.