Saturday, January 25, 2014

The Breakup Artist...


I broke with my boyfriend the other night. Yep. I’ve had a boyfriend. For the past 10 months I’ve been dating someone.  On paper, and in theory, he was it.  I wanted smart.  He is smart. I wanted someone who was successful. He is successful. I wanted someone handsome.  He’s handsome. I wanted someone who was nice/kind. He’s nice/kind.  I also wanted someone who was funny.  Well…fail on that. He’s NOT funny. (Red Flag) But I figured that because I’m funny, we’d laugh at the shit I said. And we did.  Trust me when I tell you that I have the enviable ability to be funny for several people at once. 
Anthony--- not his real name but we have to call him something-- and I met online.  He was a welcomed change to the derelicts that had approached me. His note to me was clever and smart and articulate. While he lived in the ‘burbs, he worked not too far from where I worked.
From the moment we met I just felt as though it was wrong.  First of all, we didn’t have THAT much to say to each other. The conversation was a struggle. (Red Flag) Second of all, I had never, in my years of dating met a man who wanted in my pants so fast. I mean I get it--- guys like to get laid. But he was down right annoying about it.  (Red Flag) Listen--- I am very sexual woman and I appreciate sex as much as the next person. However, my feeling is that I’ve known you for 5 minutes---what is it exactly that you think you’ve done to earn an all access pass to my vagina.  Answer---Nothing.  But in due time we had the sex and it was…fine. (Red Flag) Not mind blowing, but how often do you come across sex that is mind blowing?  I found his general personal hygiene lacking. (Red Flag) I am a shower twice a day person. He’s a shower every other day person. I find that disgusting. Sorry.

Another thing about him was his kid. He was slightly obsessed with her. A first I thought it was sweet. I know too many men who don’t spend enough time with their kids. He saw his every weekend.  This is something that I respected. During the 10 months we dated he would often say to me, “if you want to do something on the weekend, just tell me and I’ll get that weekend off”.  Yeah right. A friend of mine was getting married and I asked if would go with me. He right away agreed. As we got closer to the wedding he started asking me if the kid could come. (Red Flag) Ummm what? No she can’t.  This went on for weeks. Day of wedding he shows up and here’s how it went down:

Anthony: I won’t lie to you; I almost brought her with me anyway.
Me: What? Where would she have sat? We’re going to wedding that we had to RSVP to.
A: I dunno, my lap?        
Me: You’re out of your mind.

On the way to the wedding he lamented to me how much he missed his “little girl” and that we would have to include her in all future outings.  The next morning this man jumped up out of my bed at 7:03 am and ran out of my place in order to link up with his “little girl”.  (Red Flag)

The first time I spent the day with them I observed behavior that was just down right weird to me.  Nothing huge--- just little things that I found strange for 13-year-old girl to still be tolerating. I know I’m not a parent, but A. I have spent my life around kids and know kids really well. B. I have friends who have kids and I have seen them in action (and I would ask them questions) and finally C. I’m pretty intuitive and have the ability to peep out weird shit.  The big thing that I found bizarre was at dinner he took a napkin and methodically tucked it in her shirt.  I swear I thought it was a joke.  Every single time we went out, he did it. And she let him! I asked him about it and his response to me was “It’s our thing and she lets me do it. So what?”  It’s weird you idiot, that’s what. 

Why did I bother with this guy? In spite of everything that I’ve shared (and there is plenty more that I haven’t) I DID like him. He was a calming presence on me.  I introduced this man to my friends and family.  The feedback was pretty much what I expected.  “Seems nice” “Kinda corny---but nice” “He really seems to like you” “He’s really smart” Etc etc.  With the exception of one person. 

My cousin and I are really close. I love her tremendously and I know she feels the same way about me.  Things happen in our family and we are often the two who exchange the WTF look.  We are cousins by blood but friends by choice.  At our grandfathers funeral they wouldn’t let us sit together because they know we are foolish together.  She met Anthony and told me exactly what she thought. “Pompous” “Boring” “Arrogant” During dinner she texted me #teamotherguy (name of my ex—That Guy) Honestly I was pissed.  She met him for one evening didn’t really talk to him all that much, but came up with a definitive conclusion about him that I felt was unfair and frankly a little mean.  We’ve discussed it since, and she has explained that she just felt he was wrong for me. Which, actually, it turns out that he is. Just not for the reasons that she felt.

Breaking up with someone is hard. Especially if they feel blind sided, which he apparently does.  He also thinks that I broke up with him because (due to the WLS) that my life is going to change and I'm going to want someone "better".  This is not the case. I feel badly, not because I think I made a mistake, but because I hurt someone who cares about me. But this is my life and I owe it to myself to seek out happiness and not settle for anything less.

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

27 days out...


This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name! – Fort Minor “Remember the Name”


27 days out…

The weeks since my surgery seemed to have flown by. I am in the pureed stage and am approaching the solid food stage.  To be honest, the pureed stage has been disgusting. Like my friend said to me today, mush is mush. Boy is it ever! 

I won’t lie kids; this past week has been rough.  I got my period January 2nd and have only lost 2lbs since then.  Please do not get me started on the fact that I got my period a week early and it’s been dragging on for 7 days, with no end in sight.  Being 41 currently sucks ass and can move on to sucking all the dicks.  I’m beyond frustrated by this. I was loosing weight really quickly and it was exciting.  However, I am happy to share that  as I type this I’m wearing a pair of pajama bottoms that haven’t fit in years.  That makes me happy.  But WTF is up with the stall? I called my doctor’s office and the nurse said that sometimes this happens but I have not reached the slow down stage yet.  Let me tell you right now, I am not interested in any stall or any delays. I want to reach my WLG (weight loss goal) YESTERDAY. 

I’m having a hard time with food too. I’m still watching the Food Network like its porn and I spend a lot of time thinking about food.  Things that are juicy. Things that are savory. Things are tasty and crispy and full of buttery goodness.  I know that the hunger is in my brain.  Over the past few weeks, I’ve had lots of company.  I know I probably should not have been cooking and baking for other people, but I have been.  I know I know, bad idea.  Being in the kitchen so much has made me keenly aware of how often I start to eat or lick this and that.  Kudos to me, because for the most part, I haven’t been. (Keeping a sugar free sucking candy in my mouth helped that, quite a bit) I will tell you something. I have found it interesting/appalling/eye-opening to me that my natural way of being is to sort of eat mindlessly.  Here is the thing and this is the thing I know for sure. This is it. My last shot at looking, feeling and being normal. Oh I’m sure that the Fat Acceptance Movement (FAM) would have a field day with me. 

If anyone from FAM is reading, calm down a second and hear me out.  I am supportive (no, really I am) of everyone’s right to accept themselves the way that they are, so long as they feel that they are the best "them" they can be.  I terrible truth is that I just don’t feel that I am at my best right now.  I think that the best of me is yet to come… in every way. Not just my size. 

I have said this before and it stands true. I will not be happy until certain things happen for me. In order for me to be happy I have to finish college, become a better writer, find my purpose in life, become a wife (a mother?), own a home and be at a desired weight.  There are more. But those are, in no particular order, the top 6 life goals of yours truly.  Happiness will not begin and end with the size of my waist or the number on scale.  I know that.  I could be a size 6 (which I don’t want to be) and be miserable.  But I know that I will feel better when I can walk up the subway steps without the wheeze. I will feel happiness when I can tell someone, honestly, that I went to such and such College and graduated with a degree in whatever.  There will be a certain pride when I purchase my own home where I can paint the walls whatever color I want or better yet, knock down a wall just cause I want to. I will find satisfaction when I have a piece that I have written and can share with people. Not like a secret blog where I mostly bitch about the bullshit that happens to me.  There will be joy in my heart when I introduce a friend to my new husband.  There will be no greater jubilation then when I finally figure out what my purpose in life is.  Like it or not those are, just a few, of the things that will make me happy. I don’t hate myself. I just know that I can be better all around. 

I would like to see myself do it.