Remember that bookstore that I was angsting about?  Well now it’s truly all-out loathing.

After my entirely unsatisfactory attempt to try to return my books without letting my mom know (I don’t like telling people, “Thanks so much!  I’m going to take this back in a few days!”), I swallowed the bullet, screwed up my pride and bit my courage and asked for the gift receipts.  Without a receipt, my mom’s money was only going to waste, and that made me feel worse than bucking up and telling her that I was going to exchange her gifts to me.  That turned out to be pretty drama-free (there was simultaneous, unrelated massive drama that I can’t and won’t go into, it’s much too raw) and on New Year’s day I had a gift receipt in my hands.

Today I finally had time to swing over to Books-A-Million.  Yes, I’m naming the store.  I spotted Vaguely-Stoned Woman out wandering the floor, and the people manning the register were much friendlier today.  I got in line for my return, one of apparently many, and handed the cashier my receipt.   She looked at it, and pleasantly told me that since I didn’t have the original receipt, she would put the returned balance on a gift card.

Okaaaaay.

So it appears that  this bookstore will only allow merchandise transactions with an original receipt.  Fine.  However, an original gift receipt is not quite as valid as an original receipt with prices on it, and therefore can only be used towards store merchandise.  In essence, this business has made it so that once a purchase is made, there’s no way they can lose money.  The return policy sans receipt of  the lowest selling price in the last 6 months makes so much more sense now.  This bookstore is not in the business of (gasp!) selling books and magazines, they’re in the business of screwing over people who like to read any way they can.

I knew there was no use in arguing it.  Their return policy is written in terms of “an original receipt” and my defining a gift receipt as something else, they have free reign to do whatever they like.  I took the gift card because I had no choice, and the one thing I do not want is my mom’s gift to me to be useless, wasted money.  But at the same time, I am so livid about this store’s policies that thinking of buying anything from them is making me physically ill.  I wanted to return their merchandise so I could take my business elsewhere.  Now I can’t even do that.  In spite of myself, they have my mom’s money and there’s no way around it.

If I buy anything at Books-A-Million, I’m going to hate it and my mom’s gift will go to waste as surely as if I never returned the books in the first place.  If I buy nothing, the money is still wasted.  No matter what I do, I’ve managed to ruin a gift my mother chose for me, and it pisses me off nearly as much as it upsets me.  I hate crying because of someone else’s asshattery.

I’m going to hurt tomorrow.

Tonight was my first dance class in a few months, after taking time off to regroup and refresh.  We’re learning floorwork this session, so it’s a lot of thigh and butt work.  My teacher, Layla, took it easy on us but even so, I was all jelly-knees by the time I got home.  I’ve been vegging for a few hours now and can feel the ache; the morning should be interesting.

I’m starting to get my interest in bellydance back.  Layla mentioned she had a few shows lined up for us soon, and my ears pricked up at that.  Of course, my main concern right now is whether or not I’ll fit into any of my costumes.  Even that’s a good sign.  As of September,  I couldn’t wait for the season to be over so I didn’t have to worry about dancing or costuming or any of that.  It feels rather good to care again.

Thanks to the suggestions I got on this post, I was able to finish off my download allotment and cancel the account, meaning I won’t have to pay $12 US for a music service I won’t use.  It’s a good thing, since that particular service doesn’t provide music from many of the top-name artists (Sting and Elton John among many, many others) and actually obliquely suggests you go buy their music from iTunes.  At that point, why in the world would I pay for a subscription and get nothing from it but a redirection to a site where I’d just have to pay additional to get what I want?  However, if your music of choice can be found on CD Baby, you’d have better luck.

My happiest find, as well as the largest cohesive number of downloads, was a collection of drum rhythms by Solace that I’d been wanting ever since my instructor used it in class.  I’m hoping that a new infusion of music might help bring back the enthusiasm that I’ve been lacking lately.

In high school, I was that girl.  You know, the one who could eat anything and stay stick-thin.  My typical lunch consisted of a massive chocolate brownie and a can of Cherry Coke, dinners were usually French bread pizza, ramen noodles, or a (large) bag of potato chips.  Even so, my weight never fluctuated lower than 118 lbs or higher than 122.  I was 5′6″ and a verified beanpole.

When I went off to college, I bypassed the  “Freshman 15″ and went straight for the Freshman 25.  I’m not sure why, really, since I ate fairly balanced meals, regularly went to tai chi and water aerobics, and didn’t start drinking until I turned 21.  Honest truth.  But still I gained, and it wasn’t exactly a bad thing since even at 122 lbs I was underweight for my height.  By the time I graduated I was hovering around 130-135 lbs, solidly in a size 10 or 12.

Marriage came a year after graduation.  I unintentionally lost some weight for the wedding –the seamstress had to take in all the seams of my wedding gown that she’d just let out– but evened out again shortly thereafter.  Then with the time suck of a full-time adult relationship, a zero-impact desk job, and a serious aversion to cooking, the weight just gradually kept coming.  It’s now over 10 years since my wedding day, and I’ve easily put on 40 lbs or more.  That’s at least 60 lbs heavier than my high school weight.  And I haven’t even had kids.

To be perfectly fair, I carry the weight very well.  There isn’t a person yet who believes me when I tell them how much I weigh, and I probably look 20-30 lbs lighter than I am . . . but I’m not happy about it.  I have a few strikes against me.  The women in my family tend to the wide side of the spectrum.  I truly am, if not big-boned, then dense-boned.  I grew up with incredibly poor eating habits (see lunch and dinner above) and I HATE water as a beverage.  I don’t exercise well outside of a class setting.  I could go on.

Lately, every year I’d see pictures of mysef from bellydance shows, and every year I vowed that next year I’d look better.  Every year was the same as the one before, if not worse.  I look in the mirror and see a pretty girl looking back at me, and yet what I see in photographs is a puffy-faced woman with the beginnings of a double chin and a midsection squishier than half-melted Jell-o.  I don’t like what I see.

I’ve tried a variety of eating plans (I don’t “diet” per se) that have amazing results on everyone but me.  I tried South Beach because a friend boasted of how he dropped 10 pounds within weeks . . . I lost a total of 5 lbs over three months.  I tried the Special K challenge . . . I lost about two pounds over a few weeks, and got a grain bug infestation in my pantry (that was not a metaphor, thank you).

Starting later this week I’ll be trying again, but this time I’ve got an ace up my sleeve.  I’ll be trying Weight Watchers, and aside from the general support they promise as part of the program, I have a friend who has already lost 15 lbs since Halloween who is already my cheerleader and my support, and I have yet to go to a single meeting.  Since I hate to cook, I’m already planning what I need to be able to make bulk meals and freeze them for later (there is an upright freezer in my house’s future).  I tried out a recipe from the official WW cookbook tonight and was pleased with the flavor, if not exactly ecstatic about the portion size.  I’m ready to try to do this thing right this time.

I do not expect to make it to my high school weight.  Truthfully, I think that would be unhealthy for me.  But I am setting an attainable goal of losing 30 lbs, with a stretch goal of losing 50, which would take me roughly to my college weight.  That being said, I’m also going to be smart enough to let my body tell me when enough is enough, and as long as I’m happy with the way I look and feel, I’m not going to quibble over numbers on a scale.

Thursday is my first meeting.  I’ll let you know how it goes.