The Virginity Monologues

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

Hello! I’m here! I’m alive!

I’m just tired, and battling a migraine. Last night I returned to NYC after a few days at home with the fam, for my mom’s 60th birthday. The migraine began the night I decided to crash on my brother’s sofa. And intensified on my flight to Chicago (where I had a layover) last night, which was complete with a great deal of turbulence and an extra hour’s worth of circling the airport.

I actually shed a few tears as the second leg of my flight landed at LaGuardia about 15 minutes early. I was HOME. And I walked out of the airport, immediately onto an M60, the lovely bus that takes me almost all the way home in under a half an hour.

And honestly, my life is pretty damn boring these days. I’m ridiculously busy and ridiculously stressed about work. I honestly can’t believe I made it to the end of last week still employed.

I’m still not dating and still absolutely LOVING my alone time.

Yesterday was Spatch’s birthday, so tonight I am taking her out to a new fondue place.

I am attempting to eat healthier, although I still cannot walk out of Duane Reade without a bag of some form of junk food.

I am still in therapy, and can definitely see differences in myself. Let me give you an example.

Even in non-dating times, there have always been men in my phone book who pop-up every now and then pretending to be interested in my life under the guise of wanting to ‘hook-up’. Cam. Mr. Wrong. Jay (my ridiculously hot neighbor). Generally, I will agree to see them. Especially when someone is as persistent as Mr. Wrong tends to be. (Yes, I realize this bullshit has been going on for about 3 years now). Partly because I have a ridiculously high sex drive and partly because it’s been a form of validation for me.

Side note: Mr. Wrong has actually been an incredibly interesting case study for me. Back when we were first ‘involved’, and I was desperately in love with him, he treated me fairly indifferently, only answering my texts/calls to him occasionally, and definitely treating me like garbage all around. Then something fairly major happened one night, and I stopped speaking to him. Almost immediately, the whole relationship flipped. He called me with a great deal more frequency (sometimes 10ish times a night), despite my stalwart refusal to talk to him. After about a year of ignoring him, I eventually gave in again and agreed to see him. But even then, I maintained the upper hand. I would agree to see him, then string him along all night, and then end up ditching him. All sorts of really evil things. And I knew I was being evil. And I absolutely didn’t care. This only went on for a few months, before I got tired of it again, and stopped seeing him at all.

He still calls, almost every weekend. And texts me constantly.

And, I have learned the value in playing hard to get.

Anyhoo- back to what I was saying. I had a few booty calls in my back pocket.

I’ve gotten rid of all of them. And it feels pretty damn good. I actually got into a big argument with Cam about it, who could not comprehend why I wouldn’t see him anymore.

It’s because, at heart, I am a relationship girl. If I’m sleeping with you, I want to be the ONLY person you’re sleeping with. I want to leave a toothbrush at your place. I want you to call me your girlfriend. Not your ‘girl’, not your ‘shorty’. Your GIRLFRIEND. I have to be true to me and what I want. And I do not want to be your girl of convenience. I want to be your everything.

So take your casual sex and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.

This shop is closed.

Today's Title from: You Got Me by The Roots