The Virginity Monologues

At an official total weight loss of about 22 lbs to date, I've noticed a few things that I love about losing weight.

1. My clothes are decidedly looser and I can officially fit perfectly into the pants that I once pulled a muscle in my neck trying to squeeze my fat ass into.

2. The incredible shrinking waist. I've always been blessed with a weirdly small waist, which makes me about as hourglassy as a person can be. My waist is also the first place I start losing weight. Small becomes smaller. Its kinda nutty, but totally awesome to look at every time I take my shirt off.

3. The ability to fit into more seats on the subway. There is a game that everyone plays on the subway, the Does My Ass Fit Game. We assess a seat, our own ass size, the ass-size of the surrounding people, whether its the end seat or not and evaluate how desperately we want a seat (this sometimes will override any other factor) and then make a decision to sit or not. These days, I feel more confident about sitting in seats that I would have otherwise completely avoided.

4. Clearer skin. My skin is officially the clearest it has ever been in my life. I don't know if its the rampant exercise (yes, I still go to the gym about 3-4 times a week) or if its the more rationed consumption of fried foods, but its definitely, definitely noticeable.


Things I hate About Losing Weight
1. Looser clothes. Most of my pants now look like my "comfortable, baggy" pants. But I don't want to buy more clothes, because I don't plan on fitting into them in another 2-3 months. What's a fashionable girl to do????
_________________________________________________________________

I'm going to completely switch gears now. Sorry, if I give any of you whiplash.

This morning at 7:15, my doorbell rang. Terrified of what it would be, I staggered down our ridiculously long hallway. On the other side of my door was my favorite neighbor.

Her husband had died that morning.

We knew this was coming, and I had asked her to come by and let me/us know if she needed anything.

I took her in my arms and she just pleaded with me to come and visit her that night. To which of course I agreed.

Karen and I just returned from spending the evening with her. We laughed. We cried.

This comes in conjunction with some fairly intense recent sessions with my therapist. And I'm doing some pretty heavy thinking.

I find myself in an interesting position. I'm willing to admit that I would like to find love. As much as the idea of giving another person that much of myself terrifies and repulses me, somewhere deep inside I believe that the real thing would be worth it. The catch is- am I even capable of it?

I have a great capacity to love.

But I find that the longer I am delightfully single and drama-free, the less I am inclined to want to risk. And the stronger my walls become. I WANT to feel. I want to ache. I want to feel butterflies. But I also want to stay in my safe little cocoon of numbness. I want to allow myself to love someone so much, that to lose them would destroy me.

What's a single girl to do?

Today's Title from: Same Mistake by James Blunt

So, I lead this weird kind of life where I vacillate wildly between amazing and god-awful rotten luck.

The Bed Bugs? God-Awful Rotten Luck.

The taping of The Colbert Report last night? Amazing luck.

When I first arrived, the people checking me in gave me a Klondike bar. I should have refused it, since they are 13 points!!! (BTW- total weight loss to date is 18 lbs). But I ate it anyway. Then, after a lengthy security process, we were scuttled into the studio. Before the actual taping of the show, Stephen Colbert does a Q&A with the audience.

I raised my hand.

Me: Stephen, did you enjoy the R.E.M. concert last week?
Stephen: Yes, yes I did. Were you there?
Me: I actually met you backstage.
Stephen: Oh? Did we make out?

Hahahahah. THAT was awesome.

What was even more awesome?

The guest..... was......

WILL SMITH

That is not a lie.

What is even more awesome than being within 20 feet of Will Smith?

He hugged me.

After he was done taping his interview with Stephen, he came over to the audience to shake people's hands.

Note, I said, SHAKE PEOPLE'S HANDS.

Did he shake my hand?

No. He gave ME a HUGE hug.

I floated on a Will Smith Shaped Cloud the entire way home. Once I got home, though, I had to put everything I own into plastic bags for the new exterminator coming today.

That, was not awesome. And will continue to not be awesome while everything I own remains in plastic bags for the next 5 weeks.

However, at the end of those 5 weeks, there should be NO bed bugs left. And then I will feel like I have the most amazing luck in the whole wide world.

Today's Title from: Best I Ever Had by Vertical Horizon

"Why do you think that you will never find love?" she asked me.

"I'm fundamentally unlovable," I tell her, my canned answer, in complete belief that this statement is true.

"The problem," she says, "is not that you actually ARE unlovable, but that you BELIEVE you are unlovable."

And in one brief sentence my therapist has pinpointed the root of all of my problems. We have discussed my irrational sensitivity to rejection and abandonment and as a result, rarely allow myself to be vulnerable, but instead wield an almost impenetrable shield. She tells me that I'll never be able to BE vulnerable until I actually do it. She tells me that self-esteem comes from esteeming actions and behavior. She tells me that people will treat me however I let them.

She tells me to remind myself that I am lovable as often as I remember to, even when I don't feel it or believe it.

The path in front of me feels daunting. Its easier to be pessimistic about the future, to hide behind untruths about myself to avoid opening myself to hurt and rejection.

I hope.

I hope that I can believe in myself. I hope that I can have relationships where the smallest actions don't cause me to be seized with anxiety that someone isn't interested in being my friend anymore. I hope that I can stop being the ugly-duckling in my head.

I hope I can love myself enough to let someone else love me.

Today's Title from: Incomplete by Alanis Morissette

Okay, so my continual adamant insistence that I am NOT dating is getting old. So, from here on out, you can just assume that I am not dating unless I say otherwise.

My houseguests are gone!!!! I've had 5 days of not being able to be in my living room because it was infested with my semi-skeevy cousin and his masquerading-as-a-nice-guy friend, neither of whom are particularly tidy. And after the day that I had yesterday, I'm rather enjoying spending some quality time just lounging in my living room.

They day began at 8:00 am, when I met Spatch at the marina at the World Financial Center. We boarded a boat for a day of sailing, my birthday present to her. It was a perfect day, the sun was just hot enough and the wind was just cool enough. Both of us have been stressed beyond all reason for the last week, so this was exactly what both of us needed. After landing at our destination, we had lunch at a local seafood restaurant, then boarded the train to return to Manhattan.

Upon arriving home, my houseguests, my BFF Karen and other roommate all got ourselves gussied up before heading down to the Brooklyn Bridge. First we ate at my favorite pizza place, Grimaldi's before I walked them across the Brooklyn Bridge where everyone agreed that it was, in fact, a vastly superior experience at night as I had told them. Then we headed to the West Village where we wandered around for a while, showing them New York City nightlife. After about an hour of this, my cousin needed to head home to catch his flight, so Karen went with him, but his friend and I headed to the club where The DJ was spinning and my girl, Nicole was working. We shook our booties for a few additional hours before finally getting home around 4, when he needed to start getting ready to head to the airport. I should have been a good hostess and seen him out the door, but I needed sleep with a desperation beyond all comprehension. It had been a long week of not enough sleep, and my body had reached its breaking point.

I crawled into bed and slept until noon. Something I haven't done in probably years. Sleep has never, ever felt so good.

This week is looking much less busy, and I couldn't be happier.

Today's title from: What a Difference a Day Makes by Tony Bennett

So, I have previously mentioned that I have a connection with the band, R.E.M. This connection landed me at a private party for said band at a Mario Batali restaurant and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame after party about a year and a half ago.

Having recently released an album, R.E.M. is on tour. I watched their concert at Jones Beach on Saturday from back stage and was privileged enough to hop a ride back into Manhattan with them in one of their tour buses. Tonight, I watched them at Madison Square Garden from the 5th row on the floor. To my left and a few rows back were Maggie Gyllenhaal with Peter Sarsgaard and to my right about 20-30 feet were the Olsen twins, acting like the most obnoxious, attention hungry brats in existence. The concert was amazing, even if they didn't play my favorite song, Nightswimming, despite my personal request to Peter Buck (lead guitarist).

As I walked from the floor to the V.I.P. area after the concert(did I mention my All Access pass?), I walked past One of My Obsessions.

When I love something, I tend to love it passionately.

And I love Stephen Colbert passionately.

I had heard earlier that he was on the guest list, but I didn't believe that I would be lucky enough to actually be in his presence. And yet. There he was. Talking to Susan Sarandon.

I waited and waited. I wanted to shake his hand. I wanted to tell him how much I worship him. I wanted to tell him that I actually have tickets to a taping on Tuesday, and could he maybe give me a shout out?

I did none of these things. I was a complete chicken. My friend that I was with had to instigate a conversation with him for me, and as I shook his hand, a million other people swooped in, stealing my moment. No conversation was had.

And yet, I shook his hand. I looked him in the eye.

I am complete.

Today's Title from: Leaving New York by R.E.M.

I'm here! I'm alive!

The new job is going great. But its a much smaller company than my previous employer and I'm much more concerned about posting at work, so i haven't had as many opportunities to write as much as before. But I bought a new laptop last weekend, so now posting will be much more accessible and hopefully you will hear from me more!

My life seems to be a series of crises these days insterspersed with moments of pure undiluted joy. The legal battle with my apartment management company continues to rage, as well as additional battle that is brewing after they have done little to solve my 6 month bed bug problem. Apartment trouble occupies almost all of my thoughts and time. I'm gonna be honest, it exhausts me.

I'm also battling myself with a friendship issue. A friendship that I treasured is proving to be problematic and its hurting me. I am completely unclear about where to go with it from here and I'm praying for clarity that isn't coming.

No change in my relationship or dating status. I'm 5 months into my most successful break from all the bullshit. It still feels good and I'm not ready to end it yet, so I'll just continue to ride it out, I guess. My (completely fabulous) therapist is concerned about my complete lack of emotion where men are concerned and is thinking that we'll need to work on de-thawing my new-ish Ice Queen persona. But for the most part, I enjoy the numbness. I spent too many years feeling too much. Not feeling anything feels good. Damn good.

And that's about it. Not much else to report. I'm sorry, I'm ridiculously boring these days.

Hey everybody!!!

The new job is great! I love it! Its easier, I'm getting paid a shitload more money with all the same benefits and they have FLAVORED coffee! Yesterday I had the hazelnut, today I tried the French Vanilla and tomorrow I think I'll try the Rainforest Something or Other. Plus my boss is awesome and totally lets me tease him.

Also, everyone at the company pronounces Hermes and Christian Louboutin correctly. Its LOVELY.

Honestly, there's almost nothing else going on in my life.

I am still not dating, despite the many attempts from gentlemen that I met when I went out with my girls on Saturday night. None could penetrate my facade of bitterness.

I am still working out like a crazy person (I have started spin classes. They are hard). And I am still on Weight Watchers and have lost 14 lbs total to date (only 36 more to reach my goal!). Today the online program gave me a little lecture for losing too much weight per week and advised me to lose weight more slowly.

Clearly Weight Watchers online does not understand my self-esteem issues and my manic desperation to not be The Fat Girl anymore.

All in all, I would say that I'm pretty damn happy and content these days. Is this karma finally paying me back for all the shit that I went through last year, or am I a few short moments away from everything completely falling to pieces? I'm going to believe the former, cause if there's one thing I am learning in therapy, its that perceptions and thoughts make a BIG difference in lifes outcomes and its time for me to start being POSITIVE!

Today's Title from: Moving Mountains by Usher

Today is my last day.

Tomorrow is my first day.

And for as much as I’m enormously excited, I’m also very sad.

I started working at The Company 2 months after I moved to NYC on a temp assignment. Through a stroke of luck, I ended up getting hired on permanently and forever made my parents proud. The Company has been through some pretty difficult times in the last few years, and somehow I have made it through unscathed and constantly been moved to positions of more responsibility.

I can’t believe I’m leaving. I have defined myself with this job for so long, I feel like I’m losing a part of me.

I just have to keep remembering that something new and exciting and wonderful is just around the corner for me and in 6 months I will be ecstatic to have made this move.
Today's Title from: Complicated by Robin Thicke

My life is in major upheaval right now.

Remember how I dubbed this, The Year of Me? Well, I wasn’t kidding around about that.

Last Friday, I gave my 2 weeks notice at the company that I have been employed at for the last 4.5 years.

Next Friday I start a new job. In fashion. The promised land. I’m so excited, I’m jumping out of my skin.

In the meantime, I’m saying a lot of goodbyes and preparing myself to leave something behind that has been an enormous part of my life for a long, long time.

Bear with me while I struggle through the next few weeks of major adjustments. I’m still here, just stressed.

Today's Title from: Have a Party by Mobb Deep

Dear Oscar,

I can’t remember the last time you didn’t have a hold over me. I don’t remember what its like not to ache for you. Not to miss you. You are my continual bruise, occasionally I just run my fingers over you, marveling over the depth of the injury, and sometimes I poke and prod, examining the layers of pain hiding underneath the surface.

Lately, I’ve been noticing that you, and please don’t be upset, but you’ve been fading. Its been an interesting journey, and there were moments when I wasn’t sure that I would ever feel whole again. Melodramatic, yes, I know, but it’s the god’s honest truth. I can listen to that song, the one that reminds me of you, without the accompanying searing pain in my chest. I pine for you only when I’ve been drinking heavily and that’s because I pine when I’m drunk, and you’re the easiest thing to pine for. There’s no more tears. Every day it gets easier and easier to NOT dial your number. There’s only a residual ache and a fondness for your face and that crook in your neck.

I hope you’re happy. I hope you find it within yourself to become the man I know you want to be.

Love,
Chloe

Today's Title from: So Long by Guster

Labels: Oscar

I have shin splints. It’s from the running. I’ve been running a lot. I’ve discovered a few secrets that I wish I had known the last few times in my life that I attempted to be a runner.

1. I cannot run every day. I absolutely must take a break in between running days. This has proven to be my most effective tool for not burning out with my running.

2. I have to eat within a few hours before I run. I cannot run on nothing. I’ve discovered that the best trick is these 100 calorie balance bars that I eat about a half an hour before I hit the gym. Perfection. Sustenance without being too much. Plus they’re only 2 points. HOT.

All total, I’ve lost 12 pounds. In 4 weeks. I’m ahead of myself to make my goal by December, but I figure its going to slow down at some point. Plus, I’m not going to have this level of will power forever. At some point I’m going to stop believing that Diet Coke is an acceptable alternative to a chocolate milkshake and that my movie theater popcorn is desperately in need of some butter.

Overall, things are going well. I’m seeing a new therapist that I adore and has declared herself to have great faith in me and is incredibly solution oriented. I like her spunk and her youthfulness and that I feel very safe with her.

However, I’m not going to lie. I’m in a bit of a rough patch. For one thing, I’m hungry all the time. ALL THE DAMN TIME. I feel like no matter how much I eat, I could still eat a TON more. Its unpleasant.

And there’s something else I can’t identify. I’m feel… unsettled. Almost all my thoughts these days are preoccupied with the idea of going on a date, holding a hand, or running my hand across a bare back. I long for a crush, SOMETHING to occupy my mind, so I’ll stop thinking about Oscar. In my head, I know I’m not really willing or ready to date at this point. The rest of me is aching for affection. It’ll pass, right? I just have to get through a few tough weeks, right?

Today's Title from: So Far to Go by J Dilla

I have a confession to make. I’ve always hated Mariah Carey and her incredibly diva-ish ways. But, as I am reading this week’s People magazine, which is plastered with pictures of her “Secret Wedding”, I find myself feeling envious. That’s right, I’m jealous of Mariah Carey and not just because she dated Derek Jeter.

And no, I don’t want to be married after dating some ridiculous ladies man for 6 weeks. But, they both look so ridiculously happy.

I have never felt that way. I’ve never even felt a smidgen of that.

I am very quick to get on friends’ cases because they allow their relationships to take over their lives. I get mad at friends who suddenly disappear when in new relationships, pissed that they don’t make time for me. I’ve always deeply rebelled against the idea of letting a man/relationship become the focus of my entire life.

However, I have no frame of reference. Having never been hit by The Mac Truck of love/lust/infatuation, its easy to be on the other side, shouting, “you should be a better friend!” when its always been easy for me to maintain my friendships due to my own personal lack of involvement in my relationships.

Whenever friends ask me for advice on their relationships these days (which, strangely, is often), I am always happy to tell people what I think, but I always add this caveat-

“But, keep in mind, I have never been in a successful relationship.”

I mean, what do I know? Nothing, clearly. How do I know, that when/if this elusive emotion ever does come down the pipeline, that I won’t behave like everyone else? That I won’t forsake all friends/acquaintances to spend time with this mythical creature who adores me as much as I adore him?

I am getting antsy-ish, about my affectionless life. For the most part, I am content and totally fine with how things are right now. But, I have my moments (doesn’t everyone?) where I pine, I ache for a tender touch. I think, “maybe I’m ready to try something again”.

Then I remember- the disappointment, the sleepless nights, the searing pain, the mistrust, the tears, the pure unadulterated anxiety, and I think, “nah, I’m not ready to go down that road again just yet.”

And yet, I am still jealous of Mariah Carey.

Today's Title from: Thing About Love by Alicia Keys

I am deliriously tired.

Monday night was the last time that I had an hour to myself to just sit and chill. That’s right, Monday. That was 3 days ago.

Tuesday night- I met up with Spatch directly after work and the 2 of us hit the gym together, then headed out to Brooklyn for happy hour and dinner at the most delicious barbeque restaurant ever- Fette Sau. Mmmm. I just think of the pork and my taste buds immediately begin producing massive quantities of saliva. It was that good.

Last night- I trudged all the way out to Brooklyn again for a meet-and-greet that Dooce was doing at a bar in Prospect Heights. I got there, I saw the incredibly long line and how unbearably slow it was moving, just to shake someone’s hand who will never again remember me, and I immediately turned around and headed up to Harlem. Pissed that I just wasted an hour and a half. But glad, because now I was going to have time to go to the gym. WHO AM I? I am not a person who makes going to the gym a priority. I’m not going to lie to you- I’m a little scared of this New Me.

Side note- I went to Subway the other day. I got a turkey breast on honey oat, no cheese and fat-free honey-mustard instead of mayonnaise. Which was weird enough. THEN, and if you know me at all you will probably not believe this, as I stood at the register, I found myself asking for a combo (because I have been having MAD Diet Coke cravings) and asking the Register Man, “Can I have apples instead of chips?”

APPLES instead of DORITOS?!?!?!

I almost wept.

Anyhoo, last night, after an hour-ish at the gym, I dashed home, got together all my laundry, including the sheets and comforter from my bed and headed up to the Laundromat. The Exterminator had sprayed my room that morning, so washing at this point was imperative. (Yes, I still have bed bugs. Don’t even talk to me about it, because I will start crying). While my clothes washed, I ran back home and ate some dinner.

Around 11:30, I lugged it all back home, put my bed back together, put all my clean laundry into Bed-Bug Protective plastic bags, and then crashed.

Tonight, I am going to the gym, because today is a Run Day. And my training schedule requires at least a 20 minute run. Which I feasibly could have done on my lunch break, but I don’t like to sweat that much at lunch, so I went to a yoga class instead which actually was hard enough that I still ended up sweating too much. So, I’ll go run after work. But, I haven’t seen my friend, Betsy, in a while and I miss her. So I texted her last night to see if she wants to hit the gym with me, then grab dinner.

I did it to myself! I can’t even help myself!

And in the meantime, every single muscle in my body hurts.

Today's Title from: Bullet With Butterfly Wings by Smashing Pumpkins

Other than a few of the visits with my former therapist (starting with a new one tomorrow! So excited!), I can’t remember the last I had myself a good cry. Well, actually I can and it was the week after The DJ Debacle. Which was almost 4 months ago.

Four months since the lowest point I may have ever reached in my life. Four months since my relationships with Oscar and The DJ blew up simultaneously.

Destroying me.

So, I got off the horse.

And except for 2 unspectacular dates with The Trainer, I’ve stayed off the horse.

And it’s been the best 4 months of my life.

I’m busier than I’ve ever been. Ever.

I’m ridiculously content and just all around- HAPPY, which may be almost exclusively due to the working-out endorphins, since it has never been very long since my last gym visit.

And I don’t know if it’s because I’m so uninterested in dating that it emanates from me, but I’m definitely “OFF”. I NEVER get hit on anymore. The even weirder thing? It doesn’t really bother me. The less I have to deal with all the bullshit- the BETTER.

Something is different. And I can’t put my finger on it. I can’t identify it.

But I like it.

Today's Title from: It Ain't Hard to tell by Nas

Dear Oyster Bar-

Wow. I hardly know where to begin You were something else last night.

First of all, your hostess. Is she always that rude? I recognize that you are in Grand Central and your restaurant is heavily populated by tourists and believe me, I KNOW how fun it is to be mean to tourists. But, I am not a tourist. Neither were either of my 2 friends. Don’t treat us like we’re insignificant. Kay? It pissed me off. Especially when only about 5 minutes after she told us it would be a 30 minute wait, she was screaming my friends name across the bar, as if we had somehow wronged her. Ugh. She was spectacularly unpleasant.

But, we were pleased to be seated earlier than anticipated after our extra hard workout, having attended a 30 min abs class after our usual hour in the dance class. We sat down, we excitedly discussed our options. Our bus boy was quite attentive with our water glasses and the bread bowl, while we waited for our waiter/waitress to show up. And waited. And waited. And waited.

We tried to flag down multiple other servers while growing more and more irate, asking them to please find out waiter and send him to us. Almost every single person we spoke to was rude, insisting that they weren’t out waiter and essentially being completely useless. It was HOT.

Finally, I took matters into my own hands. I found the restaurant manager and asked him to please send a server to our table. Immediately. Luckily for him, the manager was cute and both of my friends agreed that they would happily have sex with him (not me though. I’m not particularly partial to the white and skinny), so we did not unleash our wrath on his cute face.

And then, glory be, a WAITER arrived! He took our order! The heavens sang! My friends’ oysters arrived. And all was good in the world. Then, the empty oyster shells were taken away. And we eagerly anticipated our entrees. And waited. And waited. And waited. Meanwhile, drinking glass after glass of wine, because we had been promised comped drinks and dessert.

After waiting way too long, we saw a waiter approaching. We saw on his tray 2 lobsters and a covered dish. This HAD to be us! And it was! Yay! And then, my friends’ lobsters were COLD. COLD LOBSTER that should have just barely been pulled from The Steamer. My food wasn’t exactly on the hot side either, which means, it had been just sitting there forever. You guys really know how to treat your guests, don’t you?

And so, the lobsters went back while I dug into my spectacularly unremarkable shrimp that I was paying a totally unwarranted $27 for. That’s right. $27. For shrimp and some steamed veggies. Ahem. That’s highway robbery. Thanks.

By then, we had a designated waiter who was doing his absolute best to make up for the sins of his predecessors. He was great. If I ever go back, I will ask for him. However, I will never go back. EVER.

I don’t care that your pecan pie was delicious.

That was, hands down, one of the worst dining experiences I’ve ever had. It’s a good thing for you that Spatch and Ana are the exact friends that a person would want to be with when stuck in this situation.

Thanks for nothing.
Chloe

So, as I’ve said in almost 100% of my last 10 posts, I’m kinda a busy girl. Especially these days. As the weather gets warmer, my social life tends to explode. Work has been hectic. And I’m trying to get in as much gym time as possible. I’m not going to lie. It can be… overwhelming.

Let me help you to understand what I’m talking about.

Last night, at the beginning of the day, my only plan was to hit the gym and head home after work. For my 5K training, I had to get in at least 20 minutes of running. By later that afternoon, I’d added dinner with Spatch to celebrate her last day at her job before she begins an amazing new job with lobsters at Essex House after the gym at 7:30.

At dinner, I asked her if she wanted to go to Trader Joe’s with me. I’ve been devouring this website recently, www.hungry-girl.com, and they had strongly endorsed the Trader Joe’s 100 calorie chocolate bars. And trust me, I am a girl who needs her chocolate fix. So after dinner, we headed up to Union Square, where we meandered around Trader Joe’s for a while, only to be incredibly disappointed because the 100 calorie chocolate bars were all out of stock. L

As I walked out of Trader Joe’s, Nicole called, wanting me to meet her uptown. So, I took my multitude of bags and hit the uptown A train. After spending about an hour with Nicole at our favorite local hangout spot, I heard from Betsy, who I haven’t been able to see much of lately, wanting me to meet her and her roommate at another nearby restaurant. It’s about 10:45 at this point.

I jump into a cab and meet Betsy and her roommate for a few very quick (and very tiny) bites of cheesecake.

Around midnight, I crash (literally) into bed.

And somehow, I managed to stay within my points. God, I love Weight Watchers.

Did I mention I’ve lost 7 pounds?

Today's Title from: Work it Out by Jurassic 5

So, before My Great Life Upheaval, I would write my posts while munching on whatever incredibly unhealthy food I had opted to eat for lunch that day, generally involving French fries, of course.

Since joining Weight Watchers and developing a fanatical obsession with not being The Fat Girl anymore, my lunch breaks are generally spent at the gym. Occasionally on The Elliptical, or the The Weird Machine That Pretends Its an Elliptical but its NOT. But at least twice a week, I am at a Yoga or Pilates class. Now, I think that Pilates is universally acknowledged as hard-ish. And depending on your instructor it can be OUTRAGEOUSLY hard, or just mildly painful, but either way, I always end up holding my sides when I laugh or cough for days after to try and ebb the pain.

Yoga, however, I thought was for pansies. That’s right, I said it. Pansies. I imagined a lot of deep breathing (which there is) and basically just stretching movements. And since I was a gymnast for 10ish years when I was younger, I figured I could Ohm with the best of them. Um, NOT so much. It was harder than I expected and there were positions that even I’ve never tried before (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) and that made me more than a little uncomfortable.

So, I apologize that my posting has been fewer and far betweener. But I also am living the most utterly boring life imaginable these days. I continue to not date and enjoy my solitary state, although I do often dream of long, slow kisses (jonathan?!?!) and hand-holding. Although, I feel that my life should be completely bed-bug free before I begin a new relationship and judging by the last 4 months, it could very well another 12.

Today's Title from: Hurt by Nine Inch Nails

According to my training schedule, I’m supposed to run for about 15 minutes today. I’m not going to. My lower back is KILLING me (the curse of big breasts). Plus, I did my big run yesterday (I was supposed to do it on Saturday, but on Saturday I was recovering from Friday), and there should be a day of rest in between runs. AND I like to have at least 45 minutes of cardio on my gym days, so I went to the gym to on my lunch break to squeeze in 20ish minutes on the elliptical, and I ended up on the weirdest machine that is masquerading as an elliptical, but was WAY harder than an elliptical. It was a half stairmaster-half elliptical. And it was FUNKY. But I kept at it, only to find myself sweating like a frigging demon after 20 minutes, which was not what I had planned. I had to go back to work after that! It was not pleasant.

All in all, this new plan seems to be working. I spend so much time fretting about eating too many points, that I often end up eating not enough points. Except for Friday night, when KingBob was in town and I convinced him to have dinner with me and Spatch at Amy Ruth’s.

Guess what his first words were to me?

“Wow! You DO look like Britney Spears!”

Son of a bitch!

He’s lucky that the prospect of fried shrimp and waffles was enough to keep me in good humor.

But all in all, it was an incredibly fabulous, Spatch-tastic weekend. Even though my lower back may never forgive me.

As a side note, my mother has begun texting me. It cracks me up every single time. They are always short, perfectly spelled and filled with exclamation points. I know what she’s doing and it fills me with warmth all the way down to my toes. She’s trying desperately for the 2 of us to be closer. I stopped telling her a lot of things about my life awhile ago, because I knew it would hard for her to hear them and I recently learned that she’d rather know than not know. So, we are having more random chit chats. More texting.

Its cute.

Today's Title from: New World by Nas

Current mood: deliriously happy

And I don’t have a good solid reason for it.

It’s about the incredibly awesome lunch that I just had, that I can’t talk about just yet, but if everything pans out as I want it to, you’ll hear all about it, I promise.

It’s about the mahi-mahi that I had for dinner last night. Why am I excited about mahi-mahi? Because, I was at Cafeteria with Spatch and Ana after the 3 of us had attended a totally kick-ass gym class. Cafeteria has deliciously good food. Mac n’ cheese. Fried chicken. Mashed potatoes. Incredibly tempting items for a foodie such as myself. Under normal circumstances, I would have eaten the bread provided. I would have ordered the fried chicken. And I would have had more than one bellini. Instead, I did not eat the bread. I ordered the grilled mahi-mahi with avocado and mango salsa, and I had ONE bellini. And I loved it. It was one of the most delicious things I have ever eaten.

Its about the endorphins from all the gym time I’ve been putting in.

Its about my plans to eat at my FAVORITE restaurant, Amy Ruth’s tonight. And because I have managed my week really well so far, I can have fried shrimp. And sweet iced tea. Mmmmmm.

Its about a fairly empty weekend in front of me that I am going to enjoy endlessly after a full week of almost nonstop activity.

Today's Title from: Vindicated by Dashboard Confessional

So, its kinda a big day for me.

I fired my therapist and started calling around for a new one. I feel bad and am worried that I hurt her feelings, but… I don’t like her. I don’t feel safe with her and she’s a little older and a little fuddy-duddy and I have a really difficult time discussing sex with her. It just feels weird and awkward. And sex is one of my biggest issues. Obviously. (BTW- the hot guy that I met last week? Biggest douchebag I’ve ever met. I’ve already gotten rid of him completely. I don’t care if he does drive a 500 series BMW. And no, I did not sleep with him).

Also, I joined Weight Watchers. Every time I’ve stepped on the scale lately, I’ve been hoping for some sort of miracle and well, just not seeing it. And it’s a FRIGHTENING number, which I will not reveal. Plus, I got a good solid look at myself in the mirror at the gym last night, and well, I recoiled in horror. Spatch and I have decided to brave it together, because I am the type of person who does much better with The Buddy System. This means curbing my voracious hunger for soul food these days. I suppose I’ll have to find something that makes me happier than chicken and waffles. Although I can’t even begin to imagine what that would be.

Seriously- by the time I turn 31, just you wait, I’m going to be a completely different person.

Today's Title from: Its Time to Build by The Beastie Boys

So, every now and then I manage to truly surprise myself at my ability to pull outrageously hot men.

Case Study #635

Last night. I met my absolutely awesome friend, Betsy, for dinner at a restaurant in Harlem. The two of us are determined to find every decent restaurant in our neighborhood. Anyhoo, last night, we hit The Den. A delightfully cozy little restaurant on 5th ave that serves hot music and soul food with awesome names like Not Yo Mama’s Chicken and Waffles. Which was delicious.

So Betsy and I are eating, having a semi-serious discussion, and I am only mildly distracted by the constant stream of hot men entering through the front door. One in particular really catches my eye and Betsy has to ask me to focus multiple times as I ogle unashamedly. He’s just… beautiful. I knew it the minute he noticed me. I saw the double take out of my peripheral. It was everything I could do not to give myself a champion’s hurrah right then and there. Instead, I played the game with him where we surreptitiously look at each other constantly, for about 20 minutes.

Apparently, he tired of this game. And came over and asked if he could join us. We were basically done eating at this point and just chatting over the rest of our drinks. We agreed. He sat. I was so flustered, I could barely manage to form coherent words to come out of my mouth. And the first time I touched his arm, holy shit, I sizzled all the way down to my toes.

After him and Betsy argued heatedly for about an hour, while I sat and watched in bemusement, we all decided it was time to go home. Betsy lived a few blocks away, so she opted to walk. I lived much farther. He offered me a ride. I accepted.

He pulled up in front of my house and didn’t seem inclined to make any sort of move at all, except ask me if I was going to invite him up.

I sort of laughed/snorted out an emphatic, “No.” (Despite every single nerve ending in my body begging me to say ‘yes!’)

So he asked me for my number. I gave it.

Then, I couldn’t even help myself. I HAD to kiss this man. I leaned across the car and planted one on him.

Ah. The sweet smell of victory.

Today's Title from: You Give Me Something by James Morrison