Monday, February 21, 2011

Beast of Burden...

Everybody has a beast of burden. (I was going to share Beast of Burden---but the words don’t really work with this.) Mine is food. What IS it about Food that makes me so out of control? I suppose if I knew then I wouldn’t be out of control. And knowing me, it wasn’t food it would be something else. So Food it is.

I meant to get to a weight watchers meeting this weekend to speak with my old Leader and ask her to explain this new Points Plus plan. I can’t seem to get it together. But I have been “watching” and I have lost some 6 lbs it looks like so that is good. It’s not enough but I am thankful that my watching has resulted in some activity.

I was reading Olivia’s blog and she has some rewards set up for herself. I was thinking of incorporating that as an incentive for myself. For now I might just use hers and tweak it as I go along. Her ideas are great, but they may not work for me and my lifestyle. Especially that I don’t work out. Yet. I will. But I’m not ready yet. What I really like about her list is that none of it is food related. That would just feed the beast wouldn’t it?

Olivia’s Reward System For First 50 Lbs Lost


5 lbs- new nail polish
10 lbs- treat myself to a movie
15 lbs- new shoes
20 lbs- new purse
25 lbs- new workout clothes
30 lbs- $30 worth of new itunes
35lbs- lovely day trip
40 lbs- new outfit
45 lbs- concert or show
50 lbs- spa day

April’s Reward System For First 50 Lbs Lost


5 lbs: New Nail Polish
10 lbs: New Lipstick
15 lbs: New Cricut Cartridge
20 lbs: Spa Manicure and Pedicure
25 lbs: New Shoes
30 lbs:
35 lbs:
40 lbs: Spa Day
45 lbs:
50 lbs: New Outfit
60 lbs:
70 lbs:
80 lbs: Spa Day
90 lbs:
100 lbs:
120 lbs:
130 lbs:
140 lbs:
150 lbs: Trip! Someplace good. Seriously Good.

I know I'm getting ahead of myself. But I need to spur myself on...

Sick...

I’m sick. Or almost sick. I’ve been battling a cold or something for weeks now. I have an ear infection. WTF? Why do I have an ear infection? Last year, at some point in October I think, I had an ear infection AND whopping cough. Apparently I have the immune system of a Victorian era toddler. I hate being sick.

Everyone at work is sick. We’ve got strep throat, staph infections, flus, colds, sinus and ear infections.

I swear I work in a Petri dish.

I hate being sick.

On the upshot I haven't eaten much.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

I want you to want me...

I want you the right way. I want you, but I want you to want me too. 
 Want you to want me, baby. 
Just like I want you. I give you all the love I want in return, sweet darlin'. But half a love is all I feel. It's too bad, it's too sad. You don't want me now, but I'm gonna change your mind. Someway, somehow, oh baby. 
I want you the right way, I want you. But I want you to want me too. Want you to want me, baby just like I want you. This one way love is just fantasy, oh sugar to share is precious, pure and fair. 
Don't play with something you should cherish for life, oh baby. 
Don't you wanna care? Ain’t it lonely out there? 
 I want you the right way, 
 I want you, 
but I want you to want me too. Want you to want me, baby, just like I want you. I want you the right way I want you, 
But I want you to want me too. 
Want you to want me, baby Just like I want you. – Marvin Gaye

“I want you, that’s what I want.” Said Big to Carrie. (They showed SATC, The Movie on NBC the other night.) Yes I know it’s a fictitious man speaking to a fictitious woman. But is that so out of the realm of possibility? That a man could say that to a woman and mean it?

I’ve been trying to convince myself that I am ok being alone. And obviously, if I never meet a man, I will have to be ok with it. It happens to lots of people out there. Good, funny, smart, attractive people who never find a partner. So I know you can live with it. But is life worth living without a man who loves me? Is life worth living without a child ever calling me Mommy? I literally feel an ache in my center when I imagine my life with out a man and child who love me. Who appreciate me for the things I stand for and the (fierce) way I love them.

When I think about him, TG (that guy), I am overwhelmed with the idea of this man loving me exactly that way that I loved him. It just would have been nice. I promise that I am going to get over this and I promise that things will get better, I just am feeling so alone and the feeling is overwhelming.

The other day I was on the subway, and I saw a man. For the first time in I don’t know how long, I got the “feeling” by looking at another man. He was very handsome, and had the swagger that I like. I was standing in the corner reading, Dead In the Family (whatever, I won’t be judged!) when he stepped into the car. And he looked at me. Really looked at me right into my eyes and smiled. I smiled back and held his gaze for a moment. There was a moment. The earth didn’t move, the angels didn’t sing. But Yankee hat, Navy Pea coat, Gray sweater, Blue Jean, Timberland Guy and me had that moment you have when you see someone and there is a mutual attraction. It doesn’t happen often but it happens. And I had the briefest of moments to decide, to hold his gaze a few seconds longer and see what comes of it? Or do I delve back into the world of Sookie and Eric and save myself? I choose to save myself. I could tell by my reaction to this stranger, that he would also lead me nowhere good. I could feel him staring at me while I read. No matter. I stopped really taking in what I was reading, but I was on a mission to save me. The train got more and more crowded and he got closer. I refused to look up. He got off at 7th Avenue, and I watched him walk away. Relieved. Annoyed. Embarrassed. He must have known I was watching because he looked back and sort of smiled a me quizzically. Train rolled out, I shook my head at myself and went back to exploits of Sookie and Company.

At the moment, the world of Vampires seemed a lot safer.

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Peice of my heart...

(Come on…)
Didn't I make you feel like you were the only man, well yeah, An' didn't I give you nearly everything that a woman possibly can? Honey, you know I did! And each time I tell myself that I, well I think I've had enough, But I'm gonna show you, baby, that a woman can be tough. I want you to come on, come on, come on, come on and take it,Take another little piece of my heart now, baby, (break a..) Break another little bit of my heart now, darling, yeah. (have a..) Hey! Have another little piece of my heart now, baby, yeah. You know you got it if it makes you feel good, Oh yes indeed.
- Janis Joplin

I was exited and nervous to see him. I heard the doorbell ring and I went to answer it… my heart did that thing. The fluttering, floating thing. He looked different. Older, puffier, grayer. His teeth… the smile I loved was different. But he looked at me and looked happy to see me. That is undeniable. He was happy to see me. As happy as I was to see him? Maybe. I don’t know.

I let him in and we hugged and did the face-rubbing thing that we did. He smelled familiar. We talked for a moment and I lead him in my bedroom. It didn’t take long, before we were holding and kissing and touching. He said he missed me. And I told him the same. I could smell the liquor and the weed on his breath. For the first time, it was off putting. Not off-putting enough for me stop him. But off-putting, nonetheless.

April: You’ve been drinking love?
That Guy: Yeah I had to take a few shots.
A: Why?
TG: My mouth.
A: Why don’t you take the medication he dentist gave you.
TG: That Oxishit made me feel fucked up.
A: You think it’s a good idea to have oral surgery and drink Rum and spoke pot?

It doesn’t take a shrink or professional to know that he is self-medicating. I self-medicate with food. More kissing, more touching him telling me that he missed me, that it had been too long etc. We had sex then. Every way possible. And it was… not like I remember. Better than sex with others. But not as good as it used to be for me. At one point in the middle of it, I remember feeling… this is awful and I don’t want to be here. But I couldn’t stop; it was almost like punishing myself. And afterwards… I cried. He looked at me and I could see the tears in his eyes as well. I asked him, what are we doing?

TG: We don’t have to. I don’t want this if you are going to be so upset.
A: But I do want this… I just don’t want this.
TG: I knew it. It was wrong but I just needed to see you and be with you.

And then the sobbing… about how he knew he was failure and asking me why he was a Cancer on everyone.

TG: I don’t know what to do I don’t know what to do. I just want to run away. Will you come with me if I run away.
A: You can't. You don't really want to, and I won't go with you. That's not how I want you. You don't mean it anyway.

He was crying like a child. It was heartbreaking. What should I do? Should I tell him that enough was enough and we needed to be no longer or should I protect him and bolster him? I tried to do both.

I told him that I knew he could make the changes that he needed to be the man that his family needed. I told him that he should go back to school and turn his life around. I also told him that he and I couldn’t be together in any way, that our being together was thwarting any effort of his being with his family, as well as, getting in the way of my happiness.

I’m not sure if I made it better or worse, at this point he and I are both crying. He looked at me, with those eyes that I loved forever, and kept telling me over and over how much he had loved me and how torn he had been.

I left my bedroom and when I came back he was sitting at the edge of the bed, looking forlorn. Honestly, it broke my heart just to look at him.

I sat beside him and told him what I think I had always wanted to say. I told him how I had loved and only wanted him. I came right out and told him that I had wanted us to get married, make a home and have some babies. I explained that I had spent the better part of 10 long years wishing and hoping and praying that he would open his eyes and be proud to be with me, even after I knew that it was never meant to be. Finally I told him that the finality of that knowledge was devastating. I went on to tell him that I was not sorry that we had met nor was I sorry that I had fallen in love with him. The only thing that I was sorry about was that I had always been too afraid to tell him exactly what I wanted when I realized I wanted it. At this point, this man that I have adored for over 10 years began to wail.

TG: I know. I knew what you wanted and I knew I couldn’t give it you. I am a cancer April. I knew that you would be better with out me, because I can’t give you shit. I knew it but I couldn’t let you go because you are so good. You did everything right. You are smart, and beautiful and doing your thing and making moves. I’m a piece of shit. I’m not good for anyone. I’m not good for my son, my daughter, my Moms, my wife; she’s been waiting for me since she was 12 years old. I’m not good for you.

I sat there looking at this still beautiful man and my heart was breaking…it hurt to watch him. It hurt to be in the same sentence as his wife. He has a wife. And he should be with them. He should be with his family. He made a choice, regardless of the reason, and it wasn’t me. It was someone else. They should have him. And I am not saying that in a mean or angry way. He and I will never be right. This woman who has been waiting for him, deserves to have him. She deserves to have him with out my interference. He and I ruin any chance of he and she being together and successful.

Now, with all of this crying and sadness, you’d think we would stop having the sex. But we didn’t. We had sex 4 more times. Once in the kitchen. And it was still sad. And we both still cried.

When he said goodbye to me he held my hand and looked at me in a different way, all I could do was look at him back and shrug.

There is no moral to this sad, pathetic little story. I don’t know what is going to happen.

At some point, the crying, wailing, sobbing simply become too much and you have to move aside and let the smiling, laughing and sounds of joy back in.

Friday, February 18, 2011

Sometimes it's ok to give in to the trash...

I wanna do bad things with you. When you came in the air went out. And every shadow filled up with doubt. I don't know who you think you are, But before the night is through,I wanna do bad things with you. I'm the kind to sit up in his room. Heart sick an' eyes filled up with blue. I don't know what you've done to me, But I know this much is true: I wanna do bad things with you. When you came in the air went out. And all those shadows there filled up with doubt. I don't know who you think you are, But before the night is through, I wanna do bad things with you. I wanna do real bad things with you. Ow, ooh. I don't know what you've done to me, But I know this much is true: I wanna do bad things with you. I wanna do real bad things with you.- Bad Things; Jace Everett (True Blood theme song)


While I do have a few relationship and weight loss woes to discuss, I am at work and can’t really get into all of that. Yes, I am taking the time from my “busy” work schedule and blogging about nothing important at all. You know you do it too.

Last year at some point, my coworker a chain smoking, Diet Mountain dew chugging, no fruit or vegetable eating, yet as thin as can be, delightful slip of a southern woman was all over me about True Blood. April, you have to watch True Blood. You just have too. I protested I was over Vampires. My sister had tried to get me into Twilight and while I read the books (likely the most poorly written books ever) and watched the Twilight movies (so dim. So so so dim). I was just not interested. Besides, I’m already a Harry Potter GEEK and I don’t want to be THAT fat girl. You know, a cat lady, living at home with mother, who scrapbooks and is also a science fiction weirdo. But she kept on me and I finally acquiesced.

Oh. My. WTF? WTH? OMG…

I LOVE True Blood. It’s just so kitschy and ridiculous and chock full of gratuitous violence and sex. I literally watched 3 seasons in less than 2 weeks. Hooked Hooked Hooked. And now I’m reading the books. Which BTW, are so much better than Twilight. Not only are they written in a much more fluid way, Sookie Stackhouse novels, while silly, are written for adults. I think my frustration with Twilight was that they never really get to the sex. A part of me is definitely like, Geez, just fuck already. But, Twilight is written for young girls. So they really shouldn’t just fuck already. They should wait. Till they are ready.

Now let me just say that I am in school, desperately trying to better myself though education. I have no time for shenanigans of the characters in wonderfully written novelettes of Charlaine Harris. I mean I am in the midst of trying to “Summarize modern Jewish beliefs—Orthodox, Conservative, Reform and Reonstructionist—on God, the Torah and the Halakhah (Jewish Law, the Mizvot)” and that is pretty heady stuff.

However, I eagerly (happily, joyfully) tossed aside the Torah to see what would happen next to Sookie, Eric and the good folks in Bon Temps, Louisiana.

Sometimes it’s ok to give in to the trash.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Love for Sale...

When the only sound on the empty street is the heavy tread of the heavy feet that belong to a lonesome cop I open shop. The moon so long has been gazing down on the war ward ways of this wayward town my smile becomes a smirk, I go to work. Love for sale, appetizing young love for sale. Love that’s fresh and still unspoiled, love that’s only slightly soiled, love for sale. Who will buy? Who would like to sample my supply? Who’s prepared to pay the price for a trip to paradise love for sale? Let the poet’s pipe of love in their childish ways. I know every type of love better far than they if you want the thrill of love. 
I have been through the mill of love old love. Knew love, every love but true love, love for sale appetizing young love for sale. If you want to buy my wares follow me and climb the stairs. Love for sale. – Ella Fitzgerald (written by Cole Porter)

Recently, I went to the Dominican Republic on vacation. I spent the bulk of my time at a resort with my cousin and brother. While there I watched the members of the “Animation” Crew. The animation crew, are the entertainment. During the day they try and engage the resort patrons by playing various beach or pool type games, doing “impromptu” dance routines etc. In the evening, they perform in the various shows and mingle among the guests, talking, drinking, dancing, etc. The interaction is overtly sexual, very aggressive and determined. I watched as the male members of the animation crew behave like heat seeking missiles. If you are alive and breathing, they were all over you. Equally as interesting to me, was the behavior of the female guests. Regardless of age or martial status they were reduced to giggling, blushing little girls. We had the chance to speak with a few members of the team who told us a little about what they do. Each male animation crewmember, and we spoke to several, in not all, told us about their “girlfriends” in Holland, England or Germany. One member told me that he much preferred the white women as opposed to the women of color. He made a point to say that the black women are just too just difficult.

Because of snow at home, I ended up staying two extra days, and on one of those days I was alone. This is where the story gets fun. So my routine was to wake up have breakfast, go the beach. After lunch I would sit by the pool. That’s where it happened, at the pool. I became the target of a heat-seeking missile, code name “Sexy Bomba” (I’m serious, his name tag said “Sexy Bomba”) I was sitting by the pool, drinking an ice cold cervesa, reading a trashy novel, and listening to my Ipod when SB (Sexy Bomba) approached me. Here’s what happened:

SB: Hello Mami
AL: Hey how are you?
SB: Good Good… I see your brother and prima (Spanish for cousin) have left you alone.
AL: How did you know that?
SB: Ay please, Sexy Bomba? He know everythin’.
AL: Well yes, it was sno---
SB: …Snowing in Nueva Jork, so you stay.
AL: Well yes.
SB: So April… you and me we have sexy party before jew go.
AL: You and ME? Have a sexy party before I go?
SB: Jes.
AL: Umm no.
SB: Jes, and Mami? (Whispering and giving me the knowing look) I do everythin’.
AL: I’m sure you do, but still sadly no.
SB: Si, give me jor room number; we have a berry sexy time, jew and me.
AL: A sexy time?
SB: Jes, a berry sexy time. And after, I do everythin’? Jew give me geeft. Big, small whatever. Jew give me geeft.
AL: I give you gift?
SB: Si, but what you want.
AL: How about you go and find a nice blonde?
SB: Aye no, I like jew. I prefer my color… Our color jew know? (Wink, Wink, Nod, Nod)
AL: Ummmm yeah, listen, how about I give you gift right now… no sexy time.
SB: Just geeft, not sexy party?
AL: Yeah (reaching into my beach bag for 10 US dollars) here you go.
SB: I geeve jew sexy kiss.
AL: There is no need for sexy anything. But thanks.

And off he went, leaving me to my cervesa, no longer fria but caliente. I sat there for a moment, laughing to myself and shaking my head.

I shared my little story with El Shrinko. And he asked me, So did you? “Umm no I did not”. Why not? First of all, I really did not get the sense that SB cared if I was male or female. I don’t think he was gay per se, I just think that he was an equal opportunity gigolo. Second of all, I really think that once you pay for sex, you have gone to a whole other side, a dark side, and you can’t really come back that. Yeah I know, we all PAY for it one way or another, but still.

While I can still see the humor in my little encounter, it also gave me pause for thought. This is someone’s life. I am not participating of the victimization of SB, and trust me, whether or not he knows it, Sexy Bomba is a victim. When the only way that you can supplement your income is by selling yourself? You ARE a victim. That is one shitty situation. It’s not funny, it’s tragic.