When the Grass Under Your Feet is Actually a Meadow....

Prepare for a post of vulnerability.

So, as few may know, I entered a weight loss challenge at work rightly called "The Biggest Loser." In the past three weeks I've lost 6.5 lbs...a small but very normal and healthy amount of weight to lose. I kick box twice a week, and get the gym one to two more times in addition to that. I've been jogging, learning about what happens when my muscles decide they don't want to work that hard (ace bandages are my new best friend) and eating very healthy. I'm not "dieting" I'm making a lifestyle change. I eat very little to no processed food/fast food/sodas/sugary snacks..etc. I'm conscious of what I drink and I try hard to work out all parts of my body. I've fallen in love with kickboxing and have seriously developed an addiction to eating right/exercising/becoming a healthy person. I've become so addicted that I've lost sight of other things in life...

Like my social life. Granted, I've been busy with various things, including a lot of work special events...but I've sort of pushed my social life to the side. Going out drinking all night sounds horrible after working out AND I've become a lot more tired (despite the energizing feeling you're supposed to have) by all this work/working out. I'm not a total bum, but I've made plans and cancelled with my friends a few times due to injuries and exhaustion. I feel bad, but I'm just focusing on the fitness right now.

Life isn't like that though. I'm coming up on my 25th birthday and can't help but shake my head when I think about how long I've been single. I'm not getting all whiney or anything, I actually had a self revelation this evening. See, I'm not single and alone because no one wants me. I'm single and alone because lately, I've stopped putting myself in situations where I could actually meet someone.

I decided to go out to my favorite bar for a drink and maybe strike up a conversation with a lone male patron if possible. This was a stretch for me, because when I go to bars alone (which is not that frequently) I am struck with a sense of self-conscious vulnerability. I'm thinking that everyone thinks I'm desperate because I'm that big girl, alone at the bar with a drink in her hand. Granted, no one is paying attention to me because they are with their friends. But still, I over freak out about it.

Well, I went to the bar and there weren't a lot of patrons there anyway. At first I was discouraged. I knew that I looked a helluva lot better tonight than I did two months ago. I knew that my stomach was narrowing, I was getting an hour glass figure, that I didn't have to worry about a double chin sneaking in my DMV picture today, that my arm fat jiggled less and my legs were getting really strong. I knew all of this, but I still got down. I figured that I didn't measure up to the super petite hot bartender and that I was still a long way from my personal health goals and an even longer way from the societal standard for beauty. I don't want to be a supermodel. I just want to have a nice clear bright face, shiny hair, white teeth and a non-obese figure. These are perfectly attainable goals!

A group of guys came into the bar and ordered drinks. The male bartender said "there is no one sitting from her on down." He was just exhibiting good customer service, but that is when I lost it. That’s right fellas, no one is sitting near me on either side. Then another terror ran through my body. What if one of these guys tried to talk to me. What would I do? What would I say? I began to freak out about this as I watched the women's Beach Volleyball match play on the flat screen in front of me.

As I picked up my Long Island for a sip, condensation ran down the glass and spattered on my leg. After about 10-15 spatters...I began to wonder if by the time I left this bar it would appear I peed myself.

I finally gave up, finished my drink and left...stopping at CVS for a sugary pick me up...nothing that would destroy my hard work but just something to induce endorphines.

As I walked home....alone...I thought about a few things. First of all, there weren't that many guys at the bar. It wasn't that I wasn't attractive, it just wasn't a good night for putting myself out there. Second of all, my looks weren't the problem, my attitude was. Granted I sat there with great posture, shoulders high...deep down I was worried about what others would think about me and if someone talked to me what I would say. I'm known as a master of words, I'm witty, scarcastic and can make even a surley elderly person laugh...but at that moment I was weak. I'd probably resort to my defense mechanism which involves me "bro-ing down" with the male speaking. I'd prolly look at him and say "this is my shit" and point to the Olympics or something. Because that is what I do. I bring myself down to the guy's level because that makes me feel more comfortable and yes....less attractive.

I over-thought it. I then decided that it wasn't just my body that wasn't in top shape for being on the prowl, it was my mind too. I'm doing the best I can for my health right now, but I still STILL feel the sting of hurtful words said to me by strangers who have called me fat, big, and considered me a grenade. Those days are way behind me but I can't seem to shake them. I'm not that girl anymore, but I'm also not the super sassy girl who thinks she's out of everyone's league.

I hate it when people patronize me with the usual “you’ll find someone when you least expect it” bullshit. I no longer wander the streets, staring into the eyes of every attractive person wondering if they are my soul mate. I quit online dating because I was typecasting every guy who messaged me and ruling even the average ones out due to several glaring flaws in my head. I’ve been focusing on self improvement and health and personal happiness and letting life take me where I need to go. However, I haven’t had opportunities to even accidentally find someone. I shouldn’t expect much since I look like hell after a workout and work with homeless women and children. Haha

Honestly, after all of this, I learned that I need to work on building confidence. I’m already repairing my body to make it better and stronger. But I need to repair my heart. For the longest time no one would even look in my direction unless they were elderly or homeless because of the way I looked and the attitude I had. Its time to change that. I need to convince myself that I’m not that big girl anymore. I’m healthier and getting sexier by the day. It’s just going to be a long process, however I’m grateful for the lessons learned tonight.

Until next time…

Wait...you got pregnant ON PURPOSE?

A few posts ago, I ranted about the velocity in which my friends are getting engaged, married, and popping out children. Today I will focus strictly on a rant regarding popping out children and of course, a philosophical take on FaceBook.

Every 20-something is going through this phase where pregnancies among one's social group is now a normal thing. I mean, let's face it...everyone is having babies. Its kind of funny, lately I think I'm being stalked by pregnant people I don't know. I think its because I'm hyper aware of pregnant women these days. Last night I had a dream about my pregnant college bestie (who is due a few days before my birthday). Pregnancy is EVERYWHERE.

Clearly that study on the news stating the US birth rate is declining was WRONG.

Anyway, Facebook...love it or hate it, our society is ADDICTED to it. You stalk people from Kindergarten to see if they're hot or not...you follow your college friends and post annually on their wall for their birthday...you creepily check out family members...etc. But Facebook is a megaphone for good news. See, users can filter the bad shit out of their lives and only post positive things on Facebook. This makes viewers believe that individual's life is PERFECT.

Think about it, you're on Facebook and all you see are pictures from vaycay in Europe, your ex-roomate's hot boyfriend, a very extravagant wedding, oh...yes...and ultrasound pictures with status updates like "OMG +1 SO EXCITED" followed by 50+ comments which all say "holy shit, congratulations"

Now, what you may not know about your "friends" who seem to have it all is that their dear Aunt Susan has cancer (unless they status a prayer request) or that their trip to Europe has now put them in a state of debt where they have to move back in with their parents. Or that their hot boyfriend just cheated on them with another guy. These are the updates you DON'T get to see on Facebook, rightly so because that's not classy.

So, back to babies. I have a point I swear. When damn near all your friends are posting positive pregnancy test pictures and ultrasound pictures of tiny fetus like peanuts or using the famous BABY TRACKER APP which states "3 weeks...my baby is the size of a pencil eraser omg" you start to wonder...am I doing something wrong?

There is an age old experiment where people get in an elevator and face the back wall. The one person that isn't in on the joke feels self-conscious and is like "but the doors are here...." Pressured by the need to conform, that person faces the back wall as well. They don't want to be an outsider and perhaps the wall facing riders know something he or she does not.

Conformity. We're at an era where people are having kids in their 20s and that is great, however Facebook makes it seem like EVERYONE IS DOING IT which is not so great. I have a decent salary paying job, I live in a 1 bedroom apartment in Center City Philadelphia, I'm in graduate school studying a craft I love and the only baby I see myself having anytime soon is my writing career....but am I doing it wrong? Like, should I be trying to nail down a man and pop out kids? DID THE INTERNAL BABY CLOCK SPEED UP AND NO ONE TOLD ME???? I'm in the elevator, knowing the doors open to the front but wondering why everyone is staring at the back wall.

Fear not friends, I am not going to go out and get knocked up. The majority of my "friends" who are preggers are actually in love with someone and want to raise a family. I'm in love with Dunkin Donuts Iced Coffee and I want to raise the world's awareness of myself. But it does make you wonder.

In my engagement rant post I stated I'll probably be that drunk grandmother sneaking martinis before noon...but perhaps I'll be that woman that has no family but many lovers. I'll have an annual lover name Gustavo who I hook up with every time I go to Italy. I won't get married....(or divorced) and I won't have to support kids (just my Boxer dog, Bronx and perhaps...my parents). I'll write until I die, drink until my liver gives out, and try a lot of things that my soon to be homemaker friends will never experience until their kid go to college. That sounds good to me.

Until next time...