Dating Hiatus

Just as quickly as I fall into something, I can fall right out. I'm fickle like that.

And for the moment, I have totally fallen out with online dating.

We've had a fight, OKCupid and I. A little lover's spat. Weeks of depressingly unoriginal emails and shirtless douchebag mirror pics, not to mention a few randomly insulting messages, had started to wear down my enthusiasm for the whole endeavor. And then there was the Ginger Problem.

Ginger #1, as you know, disappeared off the face of the Earth in a very mature fashion when I got back from Spain. Me being me, I couldn't just let it go without getting in a final word, so I defriended him on Facebook last week with a sharp little reprimand about courtesy. I actually got a pretty instantaneous reply, and it was an apology...sort of. Really, it was the worst apology ever, and ended up just making me feel absolutely terrible about myself. (Hence the last week of food shame spiral. Stupid boys fucking with my brain.)

Then, there was a Ginger 2.0 on the horizon. We chatted on the phone. We set a date. I was throughout optimistic about this apparent upgrade, better job, better smile, older and theoretically wiser. Not so much. He totally blew off our scheduled dinner, and that was that. 2.0 failure.

Ugh. FUCKING GINGERS. My affection for them is waning, I will say.

I just had zero enthusiasm left for strange Internet dudes after these back-to-back incidents, and have decided it is time for me to take a little rejuvenating break. And truly, when I started this experiment a few months ago my goal was just to date. It had been awhile, and I wanted to make sure I hadn't forgotten how, plus I was in need of a little attention. I was not on the hunt for an insta-boyfriend. So I got a little experience, I got some fun, and I'm allllll set, for now.

This is not to say I won't return to online dating in a few weeks or months, but for now I just don't feel the need to search for anything. I wouldn't turn something wonderful away if it happened organically, but I have more important things to do right now than go on first date after first date trying to force a connection.

I'd rather reconnect with myself. I need to focus on getting myself back on track, on yoga and maybe running, on getting myself to the place I really want to be. Then maybe I'll feel ready again.

Me, this morning.

I DON'T WANNA MOVE.

Forever Clothes

When you adopt a pet from a shelter or rescue, it is often said that you are giving them their "forever home".

Well, I realized on Saturday as I spent the day shopping with my mother, that I am close enough to my goal weight that I am now buying "forever clothes" (badumdumchh). Aside from pants, things that I get now are going to fit pretty much forever...you know, ideally. This. Is. Exciting.

For months, I've lived in this strange limbo state of in-between-ness, buying things I know I'll shrink out of in a matter of weeks, or drowning in things I used to love. It's hard enough to feel fully comfortable in your skin when you're losing weight, and harder still when you're constantly pulling unfamiliar fabric up or down, not sure what now looks bad, or good, or wondering just how fat you still are.

If you haven't noticed from my outfit posts and general shallowness, I really really love fashion. I always have, but have never really felt like I had the "right" to wear what I wanted to wear at my size, or it really just looked terrible on me, or I felt too noticeable, looked like I was trying too hard, or WAH WAH WAH. Priority #1 was always camouflage and concealment, then I could try to wear something at least halfway cute. I did okay, I think? Color and print and lace and frills, feminine with a funky edge. Always layers, lots of dresses, cardigans always necessary to cover my arms.

Over my adult life I have amassed a lot of clothes. A very large amount. Huge quantities. A shitload, okay?  Some items I haven't worn in years, and some I recently wore at least once a week. Yesterday, armed with a little bit of confidence after fitting into a pair of sixes while shopping (though I didn't buy them), I went through my closet and started the kind of emotional process of sorting. Keep, donate, sell (or, attempt to).

Don't judge my pain. First of all, I'm a pack-rat, and it's hard for me to convince myself to get rid of anything, clothes especially, even when they're way too big. I have really strong memories attached to certain dresses or outfits, and I always think, well, I could maybe get them altered? Plus, my paranoid little mind kicks into overdrive: I can clearly imagine some day in the future when I'm standing at my closet, and the perfect thing to wear is something that I stupidly gave away. UPSETTING.

Obviously, I got over it.

Just a portion of the discards, including
a homecoming dress from high school,
my college graduation dress,
my last suitable interview shirts,
 and three of my former favorite dresses.

Let's just say I used to have to hunt for a hanger.
And some of these are still
too big
not right
too special to get rid of.

It's kind of cathartic to get rid of years of memories like this, almost like I'm shedding my old skin. It's freeing to be without my uniforms, my armor, starting afresh as a mostly different person.

And now it's time to shop.

Excuse me...

Spinach, Mushroom and Sausage Quiche

Y'all, I cooked.

Spinach, Mushroom and Sausage Quiche

From Trader Joe's Recipes

Modifications: 

• Sweet Basil and Pesto Sausage
• 5 whole eggs

WW Point Total: 4pts for one piece, 7pts for two.

Notes:

I took it out too early, despite calling and getting advice from my ever-so-wise mother about what to do when it started to brown on top. I should have just put a little foil over it so the crust could finish cooking, but it smelled amazing and I was hungry. And I am not known for patience. Aside from the slightly soft crust, it was totally delicious, and easy to make. The polenta was really flavorful and filling. I'm going to try it again next week with a different kind of sausage, and a full 45-50 minutes in the oven. 

Seven in Seven

My biggest problem?

I often eat my feelings.

You probably know just what I mean. (And if you don't, lucky you.) When I'm experiencing the raw feelings of disappointment, or anger, or even just loneliness, it's so tempting to try to fill whatever void with something, anything, and food is just...easy. I know consciously that nothing I put in my mouth is really going to fix what's wrong, but a) food is delicious and b) for a little while, I do feel better. I have a distraction. I have an activity. Plus, again: delicious.

This problem has reared its ugly head recently. Hard. And I'm angry at myself for allowing my emotions control me, allowing other people to affect my emotions, getting stuck in this cycle of giving myself permission to indulge then taking it too far. It's insecurity, it's self-sabotage, it's destructive, it's super fucking annoying. 


I've been a yoga ninja this week. This morning's class made seven days in a row, finally succeeding at that self-assigned challenge from a month ago. It's sort of weird how the more I go, the easier it gets? It's like practice makes perfect, or something. Odd. Anyway, I even hiked this weekend too, almost 900 calories of sweaty hilly goodness. Way more exercise than I have ever gotten in one week in my whole life, quite literally.

And I've balanced it out with dark chocolate, peanut butter filled cupcakes. Chipotle burritos. Nutella via spoon. Et cetera.  But, I guess in the grand scheme of things I haven't been doing too terribly? At least I still exercised, and balance is good, sometimes.


So, seven days of yoga, plus seven pounds on the scale.


Obviously, I didn't really gain seven whole pounds. That's impossible, I would have had to eat a ridiculous amount of calories, something like 20,000+! But with unfamiliar sugars and sodium and carbs in my body and tons of exercise straining my muscles, that's the number that greeted me this morning. Lovely.

It's so easy to slip into bad habits, and so hard to fight against that backslide. It's just so much simpler to give into the familiar, to return to the ways you used to find comfort, to give into that voice in your head that says "might as well..." I get stuck in negative thoughts, rationalize why it's really fine. And no matter what I tell myself, I always regret it.

My Weight Watchers week starts over on Wednesdays, so today is a fresh new start. And we know how I adore those. I will not stay stuck in this cycle of punishment, of permission, of pain, when all it does is make me feel worse in the end. I will find my way back to the positive, kind way I've been treating myself for months. I will not regress back to that weak person. I will get the fuck over it.

Shit happens. Mistakes are to be expected. Anyone can succeed with ease if pushed and pulled forward by the power of momentum, but being able to start again when you've lost your way---that's a sign of true strength. 

Personal History: Me and Tree

My family adopted Bentley when he was just over four weeks old, and I was eleven. 

This picture was taken in Capitola, California when we'd had him for just a week or two.

And I was on my way to Christian camp. 

Because for a brief time there, religion sounded like a good idea to me. 

Fabulous Friday

It's like suddenly, the sun came out.

Yoga last night lifted my spirits, and the Universe seems to be on my side now. I'm just in a glorious mood, excited for my self-made weekend plans and a hike with a friend. It was just a good day.

Work was work. I went to yoga at lunch, nailed crow for my longest time yet, and planned on a delicious Trader Joe's orange chicken dinner. Except, being me, I didn't actually have it. My freezer was tragically empty. Yeah. Did I let this get me down, and drive me to the nearest burger joint? No, my friends. I just ordered sushi and am walking (!) to pick it up in a few moments here.

I let Bentley pick the movie, and we'll be watching one of our favorites, "Across The Universe". A mellow Friday evening, just how I like them

.

Modern Day Love Letters

Most messages I get on OkCupid max out at five words. They often look like this:

"Hey sup"

"You're gorgeose, wanna chat?" 

"yo mama"

Obviously, I am completely flattered by these messages and feel a near-irresistible pull towards the fine gentleman who send them, but there's only so much time in a day. And I have to save my energy to reply to the winners who send messages like these:

"Hello..........For sure your Dad must be a Big Drug Dealer"

(No? But...thanks?)

"i thought you were attractive, so i just wanted to say hi and see if youre interesting..."

(Not even a little bit.)

"What's your policy on casual sex?"

(I don't feel that good about it.)

"What exactly do you mean by you're perky?"

(It's a word, look it up. And no, I'm not talking about my boobs.)

"Hey I have a 7 inch dick and no refractory period meaning I'm like the energizer bunny when it comes to sex. I can go all night. Would you be up for meeting for drinks? If you're, I'll send you a picture."

(A picture of WHAT?!?!)

And the winner...

"boring chick but with a little bit of fire, nice for some grudge banging and leaving"

(We're eloping this weekend.)

For more exposure to the terrifying world of online dating, check out OKCupid Enemies, It's Not A Match, and Annals of Online Dating.

The Cure

Sometimes, I just get lonely.

There's no reason for it, or relevant correlation that I can find. I'm by myself a lot, and most of the time I'm fine with that. I come home to my cuddle-monster kitty and my little studio apartment and my comfy pajamas, and I'm perfectly content whiling away the hours with a book or movie or bad TV.

And then sometimes, I'm choked by such a terrible overwhelming loneliness that I can barely breathe without wanting to cry.

I felt that way tonight, even before I left work. I saw the night stretching out ahead of me, without plans or friends or anything to get excited about. By 6:30 I had eaten all my points for the day, and I was feeling a pull towards a binge, or some booze, or another bad decision. McDonald's was sounding mighty delicious.

But I fought it back. And I went to yoga. And I had the absolute best class I've had in ages.

Isak Dinesen said, "The cure for everything is salt water---sweat, tears or the sea."

Sometimes you just need to sweat it out. And I did. I think I'll fall asleep tonight with a smile on my face, my Tree snuggled up with me, feeling not quite so lonely.

100th Post, 100 Goals

I have started countless blogs in my time. They always end up neglected, abandoned, no more than 10 or so posts before I get distract---ooh, shiny!


I'm a magpie.


This is my 100th post on this blog, and I'm not planning to stop. Apparently, I have a lot of stupid shit to say, and I'm really enjoying saying it here. 


So, to commemorate my 100th post, I'm going to share with you my Live Life Love List. (Yes, this is a Bucket List. But I HATE that term. So I made up my own. It's cheesy and amazing, like most cheesy things. Mmm. Cheese.) It's not a complete list, not yet, but I'll come back to this post and update as I think of more things. Once I hit 100, I'll stop. Maybe. 


First on the list was start a blog. CHECK!

Wait, are you allowed to put things on your list that you've already done, just so you can check them off? 'Cause I did that.

Okay, seriously.


Join me below the cut!

First World White Girl Problems

Ridiculous problem of the week: when is it too soon to defriend a guy on Facebook who's blown you off?

You don't want to be too soon, 'cause then he thinks you're all sad and hurt and crying into your Ben and Jerry's whilst watching "The Notebook" over and over and over again. (Note: I am not doing this.) And despite the fact that he obviously does not give a single shit, let alone two, you still care what he thinks of you. And you don't want him to know you're a total clingy crazy who's mentally through with him after ten days of no contact. (Note: I am not mentally through.)

But you also don't want to wait too long, because what if he defriends you? That would be the worst. And honestly, having him show up on your newsfeed and chat window irritates you, because it reminds you he still exists in the world and isn't, you know, dead. If he was dead, at least he'd have a decent excuse.

So you block his posts from showing up on your homepage, and fix your settings to hide him when he's online. But that doesn't stop you from searching his name every other day, checking his profile and finding inane statuses (statii?) that prove that, yup, still not dead. Just livin' his Ginger life, happy as a clam, not giving you another thought.

Of course, you post pictures of yourself looking skinny and hot and happy, write statuses (statii?) about how awesome life is, check in at restaurants and hope he thinks you're with another dude. Because you are very, very mature. This is pointless, of course. If he cared enough to check your profile to see what you're up to, he'd care enough to you know...text you. Ask you out. SOMETHING.

Seriously, a PSA to everyone out there: once you get past three dates, maybe four, you owe a blow-off text at the VERY least. GOD.

Okay, so for now, we'll stay friends.

Facebook friends, anyway. It's not like he's treated me like a real one.

#firstworldproblems #whitegirlproblems #ohbabyjesus #iamsopathetic

Favorite Songs: "Everything You Wanted"

"Summer lovin', had me ablast..."

Ways To Tell Someone You Don't Want To Date Anymore

Good:

• Make a call.
• Send a text.
• Write an email.
• Smoke signal.
• Billboard.
• Tell the truth.
• Craft a lie.
• Blame work.
• Blame your ex.
• Blame the moon.
• Blame your penis.
• Write a poem.
• Carve a sign.
• SOS.
• "I'm sorry, I like men."
• "I'm sorry, I like animals."
• "I'm sorry, I don't like you."

Bad:

• Just fucking disappear.

Visual Memories: January 27th, 2007 4:46 PM - Seattle, WA

Single Girl Cliché

Mr. Tree yells, "HE'S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU!"

Disappointed GirlTalk Texts

(Unfortunately, I think the Ginger has revealed himself as the craftiest of Stealth Assholes. Haven't seen him nor talked much since I returned from Spain. He has a very small window of opportunity in which to redeem himself...but I don't think he cares.)

Me: Dating is just HARD. And stressful. I don't have the energy to deal with a bunch more douches.

BFF: I hear ya, sister!

ME: Men. Psh. Must they ALL be such cliches?

BFF: If they weren't, we wouldn't get to feel so superior.

30 Days Till Vegas

Every year since I turned 21, my best girl friends and I have journeyed to Las Vegas for a weekend of grand debauchery.

And every year, I've been big.

Now, that doesn't mean I didn't get attention. Nay, I found that in such a huge pool of horny desperate dudes, the ones who are attracted to the larger ladies definitely sought me out. But still, even with guys coming up to dance with me, I still felt painfully self-conscious standing next to all my stunningly gorgeous friends. I'd feel awkward at the pool, covered up in my one piece with size twos shaking their asses in my face. I'd feel embarrassed, like I didn't have the right to be out, having fun, when I looked the way I did.

Just this weekend, I thought to myself how nice it would feel to be in the 130s for Vegas this year. That decade is my holy grail---anything under 150 is foreign to me, but the 130s to me mean THIN. They mean SUCCESS. I got down to 133 before my freshman year of college, and have never been lighter than that, except maybe middle school. But I'm a realistic girl, and that meant losing about 9 pounds in a month, and I try to never set myself up for failure. So I stuck with my goal of 145 for the trip, which was entirely doable.

And then.

This morning, I had my weigh-in. I lost 3.8 pounds, putting me officially at a 50+ pound loss, making my BMI no longer overweight, making me 144. Making the 130s a mere 5 pounds away.

That is definitely possible.

We leave in exactly 30 days. I am going to kick my ass into high gear. Hot yoga for health, running for my legs, and weights for my arms. I'm going to cook. I'm going to stop eating Cheetos.

And maybe, just maybe, I'll rock a bikini this year.

Visual Reminder

I know that I've lost 50 pounds.

I know that I've shrank in size.

But sometimes, I look in the mirror and I don't really see that much of a change.

The dozen or so compliments I received this weekend at the wedding really affirmed what I should already know: I look completely different.

Let's compare, shall we?

July 2011: 195ish
July 2012: 145ish

October 2011: 195ish
July 2012: 145ish

March 2012: 174
July 2012: 150

March 2010: 185ish
July 2011: 145ish

Summer Wedding Style

• Dress by Valerie Bertinelli
• Earrings and Bracelet by So Good Jewelry
• Shoes by Nine West

Heartless in San Francisco

Rehearsal Dinner Style

Oh, hello morning.

I'm tucked in bed in my own private hotel room, feeling like a very fancy adult...you know, an adult that would rather starve than put on pants and go search for something healthy to eat. Far too much work. I'll play on the Internet instead.

Last night was Event #1 of Wedding Weekend. I have known the bride since we were in kindergarten, and she has been with her soon-to-be-husband since high school. They are an absolutely perfect couple together, and I'm so happy to be in San Francisco celebrating with them. I attended the weddings of her two older sisters and both were very swanky occasions, so I'm excited for tonight's festivities.

The rehearsal dinner last took place at the Press Club underneath the Four Seasons Hotel. A very classy wine bar, I would definitely go back on a night they're open to the public. We drank and made merry, I kept myself pretty much in check so I can go a little crazier tonight at the reception, and I looked really damn adorable.

Yeah, I said it. What?

• Dress by Connected Apparel (Marshalls, of course. $30...and the first size 6 I have ever worn in my LIFE. EEEEEE.)
• Cardigan by Halogen
• Earrings by Owlita
• Ring by So Good Jewelry
• Shoes by Steve Madden

Pretty Pretty Princess

Today I lived the life of a spoiled trophy wife.

I began my day with a haircut. Then a massage. Followed by a facial. Topped off with a mani/pedi.

I am buffed and polished to perfection, ready for a fancy schmancy wedding this weekend at the St. Regis in San Francsico.

Style posts to come, of course. And hopefully hilarious stories of drunken shenanigans.

Happy Birthday, America!

Scenes from Spain

Phase Two

Have I mentioned how much I love new beginnings?

The first of the year. The first of the month. My birthday. Any random Monday. I love the idea of starting afresh, new and shiny, staring a blank slate right in the face (mixing metaphors much?). Everything can change, improve. The past can be wiped clean from my memory, and I only look forward.

For years, I would try to begin new diets and healthy lifestyles on these kinds of days. Sure that I could restart my brain and my habits and become an entirely new person. It never really worked, of course. Until this year.

On January 1st, I swore that 2012 would be different. I would be different. I would not longer wallow in self-loathing and abject misery. I would not longer abuse my body like I had another one waiting in the wings. I would not spend the second half of my 20s the way I spent the first, huddled by a window, hiding from the world and myself, watching life pass me by.

On Monday, January 2nd, exactly six months ago today, I joined Weight Watchers.

In that six months, I've lost almost 50 pounds (official number to come on Wednesday at weigh-in). I've overall lost about 5-6 inches everywhere, less in my boobs, 'cause they are apparently going to stay the same size. I've discovered that I actually can learn how to eat like a normal person. I've found that exercise is not punishment for being fat, and even more than that, I can actually like it. And I might actually like cooking. I've cut the tie between my weight and my self-worth, and I've found the desire to be healthy. I've learned to be patient, to be mindful, to find balance. I'm kinder to myself.

But I'm not done. There six months left in the year, and there are still changes I want to make to be the best version of me I can be.

(Do you hear the swelling inspirational music? I do.)

Follow me behind the cut for a look at my plan for Phase Two of 2012.