The Virginity Monologues

'When did I stop reading?' I asked myself as I wandered the aisles at Barnes and Noble, inhaling one of my favorite smells- books and coffee. I couldn't remember the last book I had finished. I used to devour them. They used to be my escape, my haven. My first incredibly lonely 6 months in New York City were spent in the cafe at the Lincoln Center Barnes and Noble. Reading anything and everything while eating cheesecake with hot chocolate (one of the many reasons I became such an unbelievable fat ass).

I passed the Relationships section, not even pausing, as I am a complete and utter failure at relationships and don't need a book to tell me this. A title caught my eye, How to Marry a Fabulous Guy. I mentally scoffed. 'That's easy. In order to marry a fabulous guy, you have to be a fabulous girl,' I thought.

Am I a fabulous girl?

The answer is a resounding 'no'.

The motivation behind fabulous girls' actions are not validation and fear of rejection/abandonment. A fabulous girls acts out of self-respect, not desperation.

A fabulous girl would NEVER let the men back into her life who have previously treated her like complete shit.

A fabulous girl does not continually allow relationships to develop into something that is purely physical, then get upset because that's all they want from her.

A fabulous girl knows what she wants and she doesn't compromise or accomodate.

A fabulous girl recognizes the signs of a man who is interested in only sex from her and HEEDS them. For fucks sake.

I am not a fabulous girl.

Today's Title from: (Another Song) All Over Again by Justin Timberlake

current mood: PISSED

Okay, I'm going to get a little technical on you here.

So, I went to get my blood tested today. I do this often as my blood needs to be regulated very closely while I'm on Coumadin (my super-power anticoagulant). My INR level (International Normalised Ratio) needs to be between a 2.0 and 3.0, which is essentially the speed that my blood clots at (the higher the number, the slower my blood clots). When I started on Coumadin, I couldn't seem to get below a 3.0, which isn't horrible, but it increases my risk of bleeding out (i.e. bleeding into the brain). So we decreased my daily dose from 5 mg to 4 mg. And since then, my INR has been steadily declining. 4 weeks ago it was a 2.9. 2 weeks ago it was a 2.0. When it hit 2.0, both me and my dad thought that my daily dosage should be increased. My doctor left it at 4 mg a day and told me to come back in 2 weeks. And I knew that I would come back and that it would be below 2.0. I was right. I went in today and my INR was 1.7. And they didn't change my dose!! They kept me at 4 mg a day! ARE THEY TRYING TO KILL ME??? When INR goes below 2.0, it dramatically increases my risk of developing clots again. Oh, and did I mention I have 7 hours worth of flying to do on Friday? (long flights are a main cause of blood clots, I have been instructed to get up and walk around the plane at least once an hour to maintain blood flow).

So, I called my dad as soon as I walked out of there. He was furious and declared it 'unacceptable'. He is a doctor who has been doing this for 30 years, so I trust him implicitly (especially since he diagnosed me with a pulmonary embolism 3 days before I ended up in the ER). He upped my daily dose to 5 mg and hopefully that will take effect soon enough that I don't die while flying to Seattle on Friday.

Current mood: once I get over my frustration with my incompetent doctors, ECSTATIC

1. All of my genetic testing has come back negative, which means that my clotting isn't a chronic problem and I will be able to get off Coumadin sooner

2. While talking to my dad, he suggested that on Saturday, that him and I drive to my brother's house, which is only an hour and a half away from my dad. I ecstatically agreed, since my brother and his wife recently had their 4th child and I haven't had a chance to meet the little tyke yet. I called my sister-in-law to make sure it was ok that my dad and I come calling on Saturday, and learned that all of my family that lives in my hometown were ALSO coming to visit that weekend. And so, I will get to spend Saturday with my ENTIRE immediate family. My mom. My dad. My sister. My two brothers. And my 9 (yes 9!) nieces and nephews. I am ridiculously excited.

3. We have been babysitting 2 cats for a month now. At first I was ridiculously excited. I am a MAD animal lover and my life feels incomplete without a pet. Both cats are about a year old, so they have ridiculous amounts of energy and are very needy cats. After a few weeks with them, their welcome began to wear thin. One of them always sleeps with me at night. She wakes me up by taking a swipe at my face (which I could not get to stop bleeding, thanks coumadin!) and this morning by digging a claw into the bottom of my foot. Most of the time, I kick her feline ass out, especially cause she starts to get really vocal about needing attention around 6:30 in the morning, but I like having something curled up to me, so sometimes I let her stay. However, they are leaving tomorrow.

No more living room covered in litter.

No more cat hair everywhere.

No more bodies CONSTANTLY underfoot.

No more waking up in the middle of the night to my incredibly expensive makeup brush collection being strewn about my room.

4. Okay, so the weight loss thing was sidelined a little during my initial recovery. Somehow I managed to maintain the weight that I had hit and not gained anything back, even though I wasn't working out at all and not exactly staying on points. I went back into working out with a vengeance mode last week and lost 2 more pounds as of this morning. Total weight loss to date- 35 pounds.

Today's Title from: Everything I am by Kanye West

Some days, I recognize that Karma is finally paying me back for all the shit that it sends my way.

I had an amazing night last night. I went to a Mets game with Email Boy, a relationship that I don't talk about much on here, mainly because it requires no dissection. Outside of my family, he is the most important man in my life. He brought me flowers while I was in the hospital, and visited me multiple times. He is my constant. One of my best friends. To say that he means the world to me is a minor understatement.

Work kinda kicked my ass today and in the middle of all the trauma, I had to haul my ass down to the courthouse for another battle in the War Against the Landlords. I didn't win, but I didn't necessarily lose. After work, I went and met up with Spatch to have lobsters (she had lobster, I had seared sea scallops and grilled vegetables- cause I don't believe in working that hard for my food) before she leaves for burning man. Dinner was an interesting combination of people, but the food and the company was dynamite.

After briefly stopping to see some friends at a book release party, I headed home. And my subway karma has never been better. The B train pulled into the station RIGHT as I walked down the stairs at Grand Street, and when the B (local train) pulled into 59th st, an A (express) train pulled in across the platform. Living at an express stop is really, really fantastic. And I made it home from the Lower East Side to Harlem in under a half an hour. That is New York City magic right there.

And once I got home, I decided that I should maybe be going to my cousin's wedding in Seattle next weekend. So, I did myself some researching and found a reasonably priced ticket and will officially be in Seattle for Labor Day weekend and will get to spend some time with my dad, who instructed me to get up and walk around the plane once an hour. Isn't he the best? Seriously, why did it take me SO FUCKING LONG to recognize that he loves me?

No news on the Oscar front. We haven't spoken since The Jets Game Debacle and I'm okay with that. Its lovely to finally have my rose-colored glasses off and actually recognize him for the douchebag that he is.

Today's Title from: Both Sides Now by Joni Mitchell

I've started a million blog posts in the last week. But can't ever seem to get a handle on my emotions and loathe to put something down that I know is probably going to change in a matter of hours/minutes/seconds.


A lot has happened.


I went on a business trip to Cincinnati. This was, for the most part, completely unremarkable.


I had an amazing dinner and subsequent pot of tea with 2 friends that I find that I love more and as I learn more about them.


I had a horrible evening with Oscar at a Jets game that only even further steeled my resolve to not get involved with him romantically again, especially when the evening ended with a bitter argument. The entire 4 hour time span that we spent together may go down in my personal history as one of the dumbest things I have ever done.


Most importantly- I ran again. For the first time since I threw my hands up in frustration after an agonizing 20 minutes on the treadmill at our hotel in Baltimore (2 weeks prior to my hospitalization), I stepped on a treadmill. I was nervous and scared. And 2 beautiful miles later, I learned that I can run again. And I don't remember the last time I felt so good. Then I did some elliptical, then I walked to the grocery store. Then, I got home, and I remembered that my medicine makes me unbearably tired and had to lay my exhausted head down.

I'm not going to go into another bitchfest about how much I hate my medicine and the side effects that have started ruling my life, but needless to say, I am counting down the days until I don't have to take it any more.

Today's Title from: The World is Yours by Nas

So, I have not actually broken the bad news to Oscar yet, that I will not be accepting his kind offer to rekindle our flame, so really, all y'all should hold off on your praise until I have actually made it through that conversation still holding true to my decision. Although, I did have a phenomenal session with my therapist today that definitely helped to steel my resolve.

Can I tell you, though, that I have the world's greatest friends? This weekend, my old roommate and one of the most important people in the world to me, Abby, came into town and I spent every single second that I could with her. We shopped, we went to eat at all of her favorite restaurants, we walked around the city, reminiscing about all the crazy shit we used to do. And somewhere in there, I managed to go on the most perfect bike ride in history with my BFF, Karen. Although, my lungs weren't QUITE up to the challenge of the uphill parts of the Brooklyn Bridge. But getting to yell at all the tourists to get out of the bike lane? TOTALLY made up for it.

Honestly. I'm sort of ridiculously content. Other than my frustration with my physical state (seriously how long does it take for these fucking clots to go away?), I'm just so damn pleased with My Year of Me and how it's progressing. I'm ecstatic that I'm managing to resist the pull to try things with Oscar again and not just because I know its not the right thing, but because I genuinely don't want to. Out of my hormone-induced crying jag of last week, I can't think of anything worse than another sleepless, anxiety filled night waiting for that motherfucker to call. I'd rather be alone, and I really genuinely mean that. I'm at a bit of a plateau with the weight loss, but mostly because I lost my motivation for a few weeks there, and I'm pleased to announce that the motivation is back! I can't wait to lose the NEXT 30 lbs.

So, I apologize. I teased y'all with some good juicy drama, but chances are, it'll very shortly go back to my insanely boring life where all I talk about is The Gym and the new Boca product that I discovered that I'm in love with (chik'n patties! How good are they?!?!).

Today's title from: Better in Time by Leona Lewis

Labels: Oscar

I've made my decision. It wasn't easy and it's involved a lot of crying on my part at the most random and inopportune times. Like in the shower this morning.

But, yesterday at worked while I debated the pros and cons, I remembered The Crazy Days. The days when my feelings for you and your apathy towards me sent me spiraling into a place of uncontrollable emotions. I look back on those 3-4 days last August, when I cried practically non-stop because all I wanted was for you to return my fucking call, and cringe. How did I let myself get to that place? How can I ever put myself in a position where I could be there again???

I mean, fuck, you are THE REASON I went to therapy. I wanted to make sure I was strong enough in my myself to never allow myself to stay together with someone who doesn't want to be with me as much as I want to be with them.

Its not that I don't love you. Because I do. Irrationally, ridiculously so. And making the decision NOT to try things with you again is tearing me apart. I love it that you remember the color of the sheets on my bed and exactly how I'm going to react in almost any situation. You know all the little things, the trivial details that make me who I am. And you STILL want to be with me. But, I know where this is going to go. I know exactly how much effort you aren't going to put into this. It wasn't enough for me the first time. It wasn't enough for me the second time. And you haven't changed enough in the last 6 months for it be enough the third time.

You COULD be The One. You have the potential. But you're not willing to put in the effort required to find out. And I deserve better. I have to believe there is someone out there, who wants to fall in love with me, who wants me to become a major part of his life. We both know, that's not you.

Today's Title from: The Hat by Ingrid Michaelson

Labels: Oscar

You looked different.  You cut all your hair off. I almost didn't recognize you when you walked in with your sunglasses on and looking so dashing in your suit.

Labels: Oscar

So, someone that I love very dearly is also going through a health crisis currently. They haven't been able to diagnose why she's covered in red bumps and quite frankly, in her situation, I would probably be home crying every night and eating pints of Ben & Jerry's for every meal. So, imagine my surprise when she told me last night that I was 'an inspiration' to her.

I was under the impression that I did nothing but complain about my situation. Apparently, I need to do more of that.

Dear Pulmonary Embolism,

I HATE you. I absolutely, positively LOATHE you. You have managed to wiggle yourself into every single aspect of my life and... FUCKED IT UP. And it sucks.

Lets start with the one thing that used to bring me constant and incessant joy. The Gym. Oh, how I loved my gym time. So much so, that I used to go twice a day. Those were beautiful, breath-filled days. For the last month and a half, you have ruined this for me. First you made it suck, then you took it away from me completely. I'm SLOWLY getting back into things, but may have pushed it a little too hard at a total-body conditioning class. I sensed this because every time I bent over, then stood back up, I got light-headed and saw stars. No joke. Every single time. So now I will be cancelling my appointment with my personal trainer later this week. And attempt to force myself to take it slower.

You have also ruined birth control for me. I used to enjoy a beautiful world where I knew TO THE HOUR when I would get my period and when it would end, 3 very short days later. Now that it has been taken away from me FOREVER, things are happening willy-nilly, without much warning, when its not supposed to be happening, and dear god, because of the Coumadin, I have one word for you- HEAVY. Like ridiculously heavy. Seriously, I hate you.

Coumadin. Of course you have to be treated with The Worlds Most Annoying Drug. Only 2 drinks! I need to celebrate LIFE! I can't do that on 2 drinks!!! I'm okay with removing the leafy-greens from my diet, I'm not a huge spinach lover, but sometimes, I miss broccoli. And cranberry. And I don't know for sure what the cause of this is, but did I mention the pounding headaches? Every single day? They are unpleasant. And because of the coumadin, i can't take aleve, advil or excedrin. The only option available to me is tylenol. Which is essentially useless. I will not go into my complaints about not being able to take Diflucan (the wonder drug used to treat yeast infections), because some men read this, but this is also a complaint at the top of my list.

It was suggested to me that I may go through the 5 stages of grief over this Crisis. If this is true, then I am QUITE confident that I have hit ANGER. Although, I'm pretty sure I already went through depression, so maybe that's something else that you've fucked up.

I want to be NORMAL again. I want to get on the treadmill and RUN. I want to make plans to go paintballing with my friends and not worry that getting hit by a paintball will cause enough internal bleeding to kill me. I want to go out and drink until I'm done drinking and not worry about every single drop of alcohol that passes my lips. I want to stop cataloguing every single pain that I feel in my calves (a symptom). I don't want to go back and get my INR tested ANYMORE.

Please. Go away. Take your chest pains and shortness of breath and leave me in peace. Haven't you done enough???

Love,
Chloe

Today's Title from: Running to Stand Still by U2