The Virginity Monologues

Despite the incessant rain this weekend, I've managed to stay outrageously busy.


Yesterday morning- I ran 5 miles. In Central Park- which means- NOT on a treadmill. Now, to runners this probably doesn't seem like much of a feat. But to me- this is amazing. This is the farthest I have ever run in my entire life. And to have done it outside, which is considerably more difficult than treadmill running, makes my accomplishment THAT much sweeter. Especially because I ran during the short span of time that it had stopped raining, and I was forced to exert twice the normal amount of effort dodging the puddles around The Reservoir. On the subway, on the way home, I found myself getting a little emotional (I'm also PMSing) about how far I've come in the last year.


I'm probably not going to make my 50 lb goal by the end of the year, special thanks goes out to that totally kick-ass pulmonary embolism, and subsequent ban on working out and 2 month long plateau as a result, for that. But I'm gonna be close. Which means that I will weigh a number that I haven't weighed since I was in HIGH SCHOOL. About 12 years ago.


I was at brunch yesterday morning with someone who is in a pretty dark place. I listened to her talk about her life and all the changes she wants to make. I feel bad. I feel bad that she is so unhappy. I feel bad about being so spectacularly happy myself. I don't know what to say. I don't know how to make it better. I can't make someone else want to find happiness from within. I can't force someone else to understand that happiness doesn't come from another person or from a relationship. I've been there. I've felt this way. I've waited for someone else to come along and make all the bad stuff go away. A person doesn't move past this way of thinking until they are ready. She isn't ready.

This morning, I stood in the mirror admiring my newly prominent collar bones. The incredible shrinking waist. I think about the conversation that I had with my therapist about my self-image. She asked how I see myself, even after a 35 lb weight loss, my answer was, "fat". And wonder when, or if, I will ever be able to start seeing myself differently. Will I ever be comfortable flirting with boys in a bar, not wondering if they're hoping the fat girl will stop talking to them?

Here's hoping.

Today's Title from: Stop this World by Ne-Yo

Labels: running

Honestly, the last weekend may very well be the most perfect weekend of my life. Not for anything big, but for random little things.

Friday night, I had Shake Shack burgers and saw Burn after Reading (fantastic movie!) with one of my most favorite friends. And after walking out of the movie, I saw that my phone had been assaulted with text messages. One was from another kick-ass friend of mine wanting to go out that night. The rest (4 total) were from Mr. 11. Apparently he felt very strongly about communicating again before he left. It unnerved and flattered me.

I did end up going dancing with my kick-ass friend, Betsy, that was fun for about the first hour, while we mercilessly made fun of the 'dancer' in our group who spent most of the evening showing us her 'skills'. But the meat-packing district always turns into a pumpkin for me after a certain amount of time and I feel desperate to escape the vapidness of the Bridge and Tunnel crowd and the sheer amount of skin on display. Luckily, Betsy is always on the same page as me regarding this matter.

Saturday morning, I got a hair cut and highlights. This is HANDS DOWN one of my most favorite things in the world. I try to keep it interesting, and walked out this time with cool copper lowlights that accent my blue eyes perfectly. Also, my stylist told me that everyone in the salon refers to me as, "The girl who everyone wants her hair." HAHAHAHAHA. Isn't that awesome?

After I left the salon, I went shopping. Shopping has become almost a painful experience for me these days. I am smack in the middle of a horrific fashion crisis and can't EVER find anything that I like that looks good on me. I have doubled my trouble by no longer allowing myself to buy empire waist tops because as a female with large breasts and a tiny waist- I have done this style to death and I feel very strongly about making some dramatic wardrobe changes. And as a result, I never buy anything. And I spend the rest of my life crying when I open my closet because I have nothing to wear. Breaks your heart, doesn't it? I did go home with a beautiful new Tahari sweater that certainly brightens my fashion outlook. And yes, I'm a total label whore.

Saturday night I kept very low key with my BFF. We had our usual date night, then came home and went to bed because I planned to get up early the next morning to go running. An early am emergency phone call (nothing bad for me, just a friend in a crisis) and a desperate need to sleep ruined this plan for me, so instead of running in Central Park, I pounded out 4.5 miles at the gym.

I had to hurry because I had plans. I had plans to go to church in Brooklyn with a new friend that I have a major girl crush on. Church is fun and interesting and I like it. After church, we have the most delicious mac and cheese in maybe all 5 boroughs and never, ever run out of intelligent conversation. She is warm and witty and her laugh makes me laugh. And she tells me that I need to stop being so hard on myself. And I find myself wanting to be less hard on myself- just for her. :)

Today's Title from: Glory Box by Portishead

The text message read, "FYI, I really liked you."

And my heart shatters into a million pieces. Nobody ever says this to me. Especially not 11's. Its these words that I crave more than 'sexy' or 'beautiful'.
______________________________________________________________________

"You look... extra," he said.

"Extra what?"

"Extra hot."

I snorted. "I'm always hot."

"I know. If you weren't already hot, I would have said- you look hot- but since you're already hot, you look... extra."
________________________________________________________________

Its the morning and my alarm is minutes away from going off. He rolls over, wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close. He is pressed into the back of me from neck to toes. I am silent. I don't know what to say. Walking away completely is never easy and he has thrown me for a loop by moving to Florida. Tomorrow. He strokes my hair, and kisses the back of my neck.

"Stop thinking so much," he orders me.

We talk about nothing. Nothing is decided. We don't make plans for me to come visit him in Florida and I don't ask him when he'll be back in New York. He walks me to the train station and kisses me goodbye.

The End.

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

Labels: Mr. 11

So, D.C. was awesome, if also blisteringly hot. On Saturday morning, I got up much earlier than people should get when on vacation and having spent a large portion of the previous evening in a car, in a horrible thunderstorm, stuck in traffic, and ran down to The Mall and jogged around the monuments before running back to my hotel. All total it was about 4 miles, which is half a mile less than I wanted to go. Argh. I'm blaming it on the heat. I was literally drenched in sweat by the time I was done.

Interestingly enough, I heard from Mr. 11 (the way-too-pretty guy that I ended things with last week). I had expected that he would replace me right quick and that he would probably be the exception and be the guy that did NOT come back. He didn't come right and say that he wanted to see me, but the text message read, "hey sexy. Just wanted to say hi." Hmmm, I wonder what he could have wanted? (that was sarcasm, very, very thick sarcasm)

I had dinner with Email Boy tonight. Just so you can have an idea of JUST how amazing and fun our relationship is, here's the text messages that went back and forth today.

Me: What time do you want to meet tonight?
EB: Whenever you want, sweetie. I'm flexible, it just has to be after 6:30.
Me: Is 8ish too late? (I wanted to hit the gym after therapy and before meeting him)
EB: Yes, that's a wee bit late. Will be starving bro.
Me: Fine! I'll go to the gym on my lunch break! Want to meet at 7?
EB: 7 works. I'm excited. Also, how come you always book the gym on our dinner nites? U should go home and get gussied up for me.
Me: Bro- I go to the gym every day. It doesn't have anything to do with my plans with you. And I don't get gussied up for you because I'm afraid the 'cute' talk may happen again! (one night, when him and I went to a Mets game, he went on and on about how cute I looked. It made me all sorts of uncomfortable)
EB: Haha. Whatever u do, do not put your hair in pig tails again (my FAVORITE way to wear my hair). I may hit on you again.

Then he gave me a lecture about not going to the gym everyday and how my body needs to rest. I'll admit that after the power yoga, the running AND the total body conditioning class yesterday, I could have probably used a little rest. But considering that after dinner, we went and got some cheesecake, I'm pretty damn glad that I got that workout in.

All in all, I'm pretty damn terrified that I'll never fall in love because I'll never find anyone as great as him.

Today's Title from: Because of You by Ne-Yo

Labels: Mr. 11

Tomorrow my BFF and I are heading down to Washington D.C. for the weekend (she is participating in a triathlon down there). We are looking for restaurant recommendations, so if you are a resident and would like to chime in (Bad Girl- i'm lookin' at you), I would love some good ideas for dinner and brunch.

So, I am LOATHE to say this, because the last time I waxed poetic about how life seems to be shining its brightest rays on me, it only took a few short weeks for karma to give me a good, solid kick straight to the crotch (January... The DJ.... tears.... many, many tears.....).

But seriously, I can't seem to stop smiling. And its not solely because of the memory that I carry with me constantly of the boy on the treadmill last week that didn't seem to understand the mechanics of stopping the treadmill and went flying off the back end, a dazzling spectacle of windmilling arms and legs, as I stood to the side waiting and watching. Although that memory does bring me great joy.

Its also because I have really, really, really great friends. Old and new (Ms. Solly!!!). Its because I've never felt more secure in my future career (found out today that old job regrets having shat all over me and is creating a new position that they would like me to take). Its that therapy is working and I am making better decisions and berating myself less. Its my incredible shrinking waist. Its that everytime I run, I can go faster and farther. Its that I'm alone and I'm totally and completely fine with it.

Shit. I'm just gonna stop there. Before karma notices and decides I'm too damn happy.

Today's Title from: Groove is in the Heart by Deee-Lite

I held the phone in my hands. My finger poised over the 'call' button. I knew what I needed to do. But did I have the strength in me to do it?

I told myself that this would get easier each time I did it. I told myself I was saving myself from a whole lot of hurt down the road. I reminded myself of all the reasons that this was what was best for me.

I still choked up as the words, "I don't think we should see each other anymore," left my mouth.

I'm surprised at how upset I am about this. I mean, we've been seeing each other very, very casually for only about month and a half. And I've never been crazy about him, obviously, since I've never written one single word about him. I've mostly continued to see him because, physically, on a scale of 1 to 10, he's an 11 and its been an incredible boost to my ego that this man finds me attractive. And, its been nice to have someone to wake up next to every Sunday morning.

However, the relationship is very clearly not going anywhere, and I have to be true to what I want. And what I do not want is a purely physical relationship. Which is what I told him. He didn't fight or argue or try to get me to change my mind. And that was it. The end. No more Sunday mornings.

I've been beating myself up pretty badly at having even let this relationship last as long as it has, considering all of the reasons why it should have never progressed beyond date one. But I have to admit to being pretty proud of myself for getting out of it now. Before letting it go on for months/years, like I have in previous relationships with all of the same red flags.

There is a poem, that sits in the waiting area of my therapist's office. That has been at the forefront of my mind a lot lately, called An Autobiography in 5 Short Paragraphs by Portia Nelson.

1. I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I fall in. I am lost. I am hopeless. It isn't my fault. It takes forever to find a way out.

2. I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I pretend I don't see it. I fall in. I can't believe I'm in the same place, but it isn't my fault. It still takes a long time to get out.

3. I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I see it is there. I still fall in. My eyes are open. I know where I am. It is my fault. I get out immediately.

4. I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I walk around it.

5. I walk down a different street.

I am at 3. I can't wait to be at 5.

Today's title from: The Fear You Won't Fall by Joshua Radin

Labels: Mr. 11

I've decided to run a 10K next month. 6.2 miles. In about 5 weeks. This may or may not happen, depending on how the training goes.

I've also decided to run a half-marathon next year. April or Mayish. I need about 4 months to train, and I'd like to lose about 15 more pounds before I start the training. (FYI- when I initially started with my weight loss plan, I wanted to lose about 50 pounds. While 50 pounds will be phenomenal, I'd actually like to lose more. Probably between 60-70 pounds total. It's going to be a very long journey.)

So, today, I ran 4 miles. Maybe the farthest I've ever run in my life. It felt pretty damn good. Especially when I still had enough in me to sprint the last lap. Next week I'm going to have to start running outside though because road running is much, much harder than treadmill running.

And, as long as I'm letting y'all in on my goals- I've also decided that I am going to marry an Irish guy. Interestingly enough- in the last 4 years of my life, the only white guys that I have gotten involved with (as minor as the "involvement" may have been) have all been Irish. All of them have been outrageously funny and have taken my sarcasm and acerbic wit with aplomb. So, if anyone out there knows any irish guys who love strong willed chicks with long blonde hair, a big ass and a fantastic rack- feel free to send them my way (seriously- the ass is out of control. I was talking to a trainer at my gym about some training sessions and he said, "Yeah, I've seen you around, and you've definitely been losing weight, but not in your ass, so that's good!") Make sure to mention that I'm a great cook and have developed some very fine blow job skills.

Labels: running

Well, it was a whirlwind of a labor day weekend, where even on the days where I wasn't flying from coast to coast, I still did at least 3-4 hours of traveling. Of course, on one of those days, the traveling was done to and from my brother's house in my dad's Porsche Boxster, with me driving and quite frankly, life doesn't get any sweeter than that.

Everyone oohed and ahhed at my weight loss, which really surprised me, as I feel like I still look like I did 35 pounds ago. And I definitely still feel ridiculously fat.

The wedding was beautiful. The time with my dad was eye-opening and cathartic. I feel like I'm made quantam leaps in the last few months regarding my relationship with my father. And its maybe the best thing that could've happened to me.

Life just seems.... so content. I've noticed that since I've been off birth control, that I am much less emotionally volatile. I cry less. I get anxious less. I feel considerably more in control of my emotions. I never feel like I am just one small step away from a breakdown. Its beautiful. I'm also MUCH hornier, which is not quite so beautiful. Luckily, me and my right hand have developed a beautiful relationship.

Man alive, when did I get so friggin boring? At least I didn't mention my stupid pulmonary embolism once! Or how much it sucked to have an open bar at the wedding with CHAMPAGNE that I couldn't really take advantage of. Progress!

Today's title from: Rising Down by The Roots