Sizzle Says

I had posted earlier but after reading my friend Neil’s post, I realized that I would rather talk about something else entirely.

Today my friend Sophia is having surgery. I want to ask all of you to hold good thoughts, pray to whatever gods you believe in, do whatever you can in your power to send Sophia healing energy.

If you’ve ever met Sophia you know that she is a force to be reckoned with- a light that shines bright. She is colorful and magnetic and beautiful. The first time I met her I felt an instant camaraderie and kindred spirit. Her poise and strength and inquisitiveness are just the beginning of a long list of wonderful attributes. But we all know that even the strongest of us need a helping hand, need someone to lean on, need people to care. So please, take some time today to think of Sophia. There is a great deal of power in that.

“There’s a love that transcends/All that we’ve known of ourselves/And I’ll wait for it to come/I’ll wait for it to come/Well it’s got to be strong to touch my heart/Through its shell/And I’ll wait for it to come/I’ll wait for it to come” -Copeland, Coffee

It looks like Blogger is bullying me into moving over to the “new blogger.” When I logged in this morning it threatened me with “you can only do this once” in reference to not signing in using my gmail account and just skipping right to my dashboard. My gigantic fear is that my two years of blog posts will be lost to me once I make the switch. I already “accidentally” used my gmail account to log in once and none of my blog posts followed me there so I’ve continually signed in with my username and password, purposely avoiding the “new and improved blogger.” I have not heard ONE good thing about the change.

So let’s hope this isn’t my last blog post.

I promise to find my way back to you. I’d miss you too much.

I’m self-diagnosing but I am pretty sure that I am a sugar addict.

Admitting is the first step, right?

So after Sunday’s post and some more soul searching, I’ve decided to bite the bullet and enter sugar detox. I’ve been researching and picking people’s brains (smart people with varying views) about it. This week, each day, I’ve tried to make smart choices. Maybe for the first time in my life I am not seeking perfection, rather I just want to do better.

I know I can do better.

This got me thinking: Why is it that offices are a breeding ground for crap food? It’s like we all want to bring in the candy, the cupcakes, the cookies, and homemade breads so it gives us permission to over-indulge. The other day it was a co-worker’s birthday and someone brought in cupcakes though the package called them “fun cakes.” It was 3:30pm and I was craving a pick me up and those stupid fun cakes were taunting me. Instead of eating one (because really, they didn’t look that great and frankly, if they aren’t Cupcake Royale cupcakes, forget it) I emailed my friend berating the offending cupcakes and bemoaning their hold over me.

I’ve had a headache since yesterday but I haven’t felt as hungry. I feel full before I’ve eaten my entire lunch. This could very well be the first step I’ve been looking for. Too bad I timed it with my PMS. Awesome fun for everyone within a mile of me. I’ve told my co-workers I’ll stick a warning label on when it gets really bad.

“Ah Sugar, oh honey, honey. . .you were my candy, girl and you’ve got me wanting you.”

Before I reveal my answers (don’t cheat and scroll down!), I have an important announcement.

Today marks the two year anniversary of my very first blog post.

(Please put on your party hat.)

I’ve never celebrated my blog anniversary but there’s something poignant about this year. I’ve come a long way- not just in physical distance (Santa Cruz to Seattle) but internally too. Sure, I am not where I want to be but I’m learning to face life’s challenges with more panache. The best part of blogging, for me, is not just the catharsis of sharing my feelings and experiences but sharing it with all of you. I don’t know where in the hell you all came from and most of you I have never met face to face but every damn day I am SO grateful for you. Thanks for coming here. For listening. For sharing your thoughts. For being my friend.

(End Sentimentality.)

Now here’s what you’ve all been waiting for- the answers to my true/false stories. . .

1.) TRUE. She really did have fake teeth and she really did scramble to put them in. Do you think I got this crazy all on my own? Votes: 6

2.) TRUE. And, uh, while bathing the dog, he suddenly jumped at her in her nakedness. When his paw hit her breast she thought, quite possibly, that he had ripped off her unclothed nipple because it sure as shit felt like it. Her unclothed nipple! Did your nipple just feel sympathy pain? Uh huh. Mine too. Votes: 10

3.) TRUE. And here I thought that 179 responses in one hour was impressive. Pshaw! Apparently not. But yeah, I did it. I was that bored. Those lonely, horny men? They also aren’t so smart- they send cell phone numbers and pictures of their, uh, members without knowing who in the hell you are. Hmm, that’d make an interesting post… (P.S. Does this mean I have a “rep” now? Sweet!) Votes: 7

4.) TRUE. The Flatulence Offender is the same lady as the Teeth Lady in #1. Yeah, I have no problem talking to her without running to my cubicle to laugh. Or to throw up. Votes: 1

5.) FALSE. It wasn’t me who came upon them, it was my neighbor though my memory has recreated the scene so vividly that I feel like I was there. And they weren’t having intercourse, rather she was blowing him. I still firmly believe that safer sex is really important. That’s why I carry condoms with me all the time. Ahem. Votes: 0

Snackie told me I should, so I am.

There are four “stories” here. One is not true. Can you guess which?

1.) I once walked into a coworker’s office to ask her an innocent, work-related question. She scrambled to grab something off her desk as I entered. I tried to not look but it was distracting. My eyes darted down in time to see her teeth in her hand. I had no idea she wore fake teeth, let alone that she took them out while working at her desk. I took that opportunity to quickly divert my gaze out the window and comment on the weather. She acted breezy and answered my question quickly.

I have still not really recovered.

2.) While on the phone the other night, my friend told me she bathes her dog in just a thong because he splashes too much and her clothes end up soaking wet.

That’s just in her underwear.

3.) I once posted in the Casual Encounters section of Craig’s List. I was bored on a Friday night and wanted to see how many responses I would get. All it said was “How do you want it?” with a photo of breasts- in a bra, mind you. No face shown.

I got 179 responses within one hour. There are a lot of lonely, horny men out there.

4.) I was in the public restroom at work the other day when someone came in and entered the stall next to me. They made quite a fuss with the toilet seat cover and the unzipping and the pulling down of underpants and what I could only discern as support hose. I heard peeing and then “pttttttttthhhhhhhhhhh.” Then silence. Then more loud farting. So of course I rushed to get out of there before I would be forced to come face to face with the Flatulence Offender and have to pretend that I didn’t want to laugh.

Clearly, I am an 11 year old boy.

5.) Back in college I came across a young couple as I made my way up a remote staircase that led to my street and house. They were in the middle of coitus. The girl ducked her head, averting her face from me but the young buck looked me straight in the eye and said, “Hey, how’s it going?” as if they were just doing their homework or something.

I almost offered them a condom. Safer sex is really important.

The truth will be revealed in tomorrow’s post!

How do I follow my last post?

After unburdening my load on you, my initial reaction is to write something funny and light. I’m good at funny and light. Funny and light has saved many an uncomfortable situation for me over the years. But I don’t have any fluff to share with you. Writing that post took a lot out of me. Normally, I am pretty open about sharing “my stuff” but for some reason this one . . . it’s all encompassing. Feeling like I don’t belong in my own body- how does one escape that? You just don’t. So you talk about it on your blog and hope to god you can do something proactive about it.

I really have to DO something now, don’t I?

I’m trying not to over-plan it though, you know me, over-planning is my forte. If I don’t take baby steps I am likely to fail and then kick myself more. Enough with the kicking! I’ve always struggled to understand what comes first- do I lose weight and then I love myself or do I love myself and then I lose weight? I’m not a gambler so I’ve always hovered in the middle with a combo pack of weight loss and self-love. But I think the trick is being able to love yourself all the time, not in spite of what you look like or because of what you look like or when you are your most thin. Those kinds of conditions only alienate you from yourself. And like I said, I want to feel like I belong in my own body.

All of your comments were so touching to read. Your support is so heartfelt. I can’t thank you enough for listening and responding. One message I heard loud and clear is that we’re all walking around with our own struggles. Even when we feel most alone, we aren’t. Thank you for that.

I was reading The Book of Awakening today and this spoke to me:

Ten years ago, I walked through the door. I said to myself, enough of prettying the outside of this entrance, it is time to enter. That door I opened and walked through? My first successful attempt at self-acceptance and self-love. Having recently broken up with my boyfriend of a year plus, I stopped smoking pot, stopped eating crap and actually exercised (and liked it). The result was the shedding of 60 + pounds. I was entirely focused on myself. And within that focus, a more confident, attractive me emerged. As the years have passed, I’ve gained the weight back and along the way, lost sight of that confidence.

People who meet me think I am confident. I am told this all the time. It’s ironic because inside I’m thinking about all the ways I could be rejected. And all those reasons for the imagined rejection? My weight. Not my stubborn streak. Not my bossiness. Not my anal list making and over-organizing. Not my ability to give unsolicited advice. Not my moodiness with peaks of complete hermiting. None of that. Just. My. Fat.

I walk into every situation worried that I will be seen as incompetent because I am heavy. That I will be seen as not worth getting to know because I carry extra weight. That people will think about how I would be attractive “if only” I lost weight. I’ve been told that before. These fears are not unfounded. I overanticipate situations because I want to be able to hold it together. I don’t want to run to the bathroom crying because someone made a joke about fat people. I don’t want to be caught off guard by someone’s disapproving look. I don’t want to not fit in the chair or booth at the restaurant. I don’t want to go get a massage at a spa and have the robe not fit. I actually waste time thinking about these things! Writing this, I realize I am more guarded then I thought. I wonder if I come off as guarded? I must or else I am a really good actress.

There are many things I don’t do because I worry what people will think of my size. If I am walking around alone or if I go out to eat by myself, I am convinced people are thinking how sad it is that the fat girl is all alone and maybe if she ate more vegetables she’d lose weight and not be so sad. I eat a lot of vegetables. Vegetable consumption is not my problem. And the irony is probably no one is thinking these things or if they are, they are fleeting thoughts. What does it matter what they are thinking? I’m completely overly concerned about what everyone thinks about me. If they think I am fat, they wouldn’t be wrong. I wear a size 18/20.

Do you know how scary that just was to type that number? That number somehow defines how attractive I am in my own mind. Maybe in yours too.

I am tired of holding myself prisoner in my own body. I am tired of carrying around this built in excuse to never be MORE than I am. I am sick to death of the excuses I make for not trying. I am really fucking annoyed with myself that I have let it go on so long. This is about wanting to belong… to belong inside my own body.

So I see the door this time. My hand is on the door knob. The key is unlocking the dead bolt. I’m poised to walk through. I have no idea what will happen once I cross the threshold but the time has come.

“There is no substitute for genuine risk.” -Mark Nepo

I hate the song “Big Girls Don’t Cry.”

My loathing really makes no logical sense. It doesn’t matter that the song is not about fat girls who need to buck up and not shed a tear. As a child I somehow got it into my head that that was the hidden meaning behind the song. To my credit, the lyrics are somewhat vague but reading them now, as an adult, it’s clear that the guy in the song was dumped by a “mature/grown up” girl (aka “big girl”) who said she didn’t cry but then (silly girl) it turns out she lied and cried in her bed.

It’s really a lyrical masterpiece.

This must be part of the aftermath of growing up as a chubby child. You hear a song with the word “big” in it and think “big” means fat and then internalize it as a message that you aren’t allowed to cry even though people may be mean to you because you are chubby and can’t wear Esprit jeans. Whatever the point of the inane song, it conjures negative feelings inside me and whenever I hear it I have to turn the song off immediately. If you sing or hum or whistle this tune around me, you are putting your life on the line.

What song do you have to turn off because it makes you cringe inside? What’s your story?

*Thanks Hilly for the inspiration.

I’ve been noticing more and more that people lack manners. Forget the thank you card. That’s obsolete. Holding the door for someone is few and far between. Saying “thank you” and “excuse me” are probably more common but not as much as is warranted. And you can just forget about eye contact. It’s probably not gonna happen.

I have a friend (I use that term loosely) who completely lacks the ability to engage people in conversation. He doesn’t ask the person he is talking to questions about themselves. Conversations with him either consist of him going on and on about himself or silence unless you ask prompter questions or resort to going on and on about yourself. Once when we were out to dinner with a couple (a husband and wife, the husband being one of his best friends), he sat directly across from the wife, next to me and kitty-corner from his best friend. I swear he hardly looked at her the entire meal while he went on and on and on. Instead, he looked over at his friend and spoke to him, occasionally looking sideways at me but frankly I didn’t care if he looked at me because then he’d see how bored I was. I’d heard all his stories and wasn’t particularly amused by them the first time I sat through them. Later, I mentioned to the wife how he never looked at her and she just shrugged saying that’s how he is. How he is is kinda r-u-d-e.

This guy is also a cheapskate- the worst kind of cheapskate. He’ll be sure to mention how much money he’s been saving up but then never makes a gesture to pick up the tab. Or he’ll invite me out to see a movie but by that he means, you buy your own ticket (even if I have covered his portion enough to warrant at least one friggen movie ticket). His friend, the husband I’ve mentioned, he’s a generous guy and often will pick up the tab when we all go out. I’m always surprised and thankful and I offer to pay my way, the tip or to pick up the dessert/the movie/the drinks depending on what we are doing next. I feel it’s proper etiquette to offer (and mean it). What do you think?

And what’s your biggest peeve with manners?

You’ve probably heard the rumors. Let me just give you the low down here and now. Yes, it is indeed true that Karl, the man behind Secondhand Tryptophan, is indeed coming to visit me for a week in Seattle in March post- TequilaCon ‘07. Yes, it is indeed true that, for those of you who know me well and particularly those of you who have stayed with me for my general maximum of three days and two nights, know darn well that a week long visit is unheard of in my world. Every time I have mentioned that Karl is visiting and that he is staying a week I am confronted with shock and awe. “An entire week!? You!?” Good Lord people, can’t a girl try to turn over a new leaf. It is, after all, a brand new year.

In an effort to prepare Karl for his visit, I prepared a list of warnings. I felt it is only fair and my duty as the Hostess With the Mostest (who is also, cute as a cupcake, I might add). I thought I’d share them with you. This will save a step if you ever decide to visit me.

1. I tend to burn my eggs 3 out of 5 days of the week. I still eat them though.
2. I talk to my cats and ask their advice on things. I might do the same to you but don’t feel left out if I don’t ask your opinion on what I should wear to work that day.
3. Right now’s about the time I should tell you I usually change my outfit a minimum of two times before I head out the door.
4. I wake up early and alert and I don’t drink coffee. But I have to have tea or else I feel … off.
5. The guy above me teaches/plays guitar. He’s pretty good as musicians go and you eventually get used to hearing them practice.
6. I hate wearing a bra when I am home. And socks. I don’t like wearing socks. Be forewarned I won’t be wearing a bra or socks while in the apartment.
7. My apartment is the first one by the front door. You hear the buzzer and people coming and going. If you are nosy by nature, this could be a good thing for you.
8. I don’t like having all the lights on when I am home. I light candles a lot and this does not mean that I am making romantic overtures (necessarily).
9. I do not have Tivo. I apologize in advance for this deficiency.
10. I usually go to bed by 11:00 and most of the time have to read before falling asleep.
11. My cats may or may not wake you up at 5:30am by either a) sitting on your legs/chest/back and purring loudly, b) licking your eyelid or c) pawing at the covers to make you lift it so they can cuddle underneath. I cannot control them. They control me. They will likely control you.
12. I really hate when toothpaste or hairs are left in the bathroom sink. Or when the bath mat is soaked because someone didn’t towel off in the shower before stepping out.
13. Please don’t leave your soggy towel on my bed, the floor, a chair or crumpled in a ball by the toilet.
14. I possibly snore but I hear it is endearing and/or cute.
15. I have a pull out couch that probably isn’t that comfortable. It doesn’t come with memory foam.
16. The toilet paper roll is not to be used in its entirety and then left for me to find while I am already sitting on the toilet. And when you replace it, please make sure it comes over the top, not from underneath. Let me repeat: Not. From. Underneath.
17. There are three shows I feel compelled to watch: American Idol (hey! I saw you cringe!), The Office, and Lost. As long as I don’t have to watch talk shows, sports or movies/TV shows with Jennifer Love Hewitt or Carrot Top, we’ll get along fine.
18. It’s ok to be quiet and do your own thing just not to the point where I start to feel uncomfortable and I start wondering if you are having a horrible time and really wish you could leave already.
19. I really do enjoy doing the dishes so when I say it’s ok, I’ll wash the dishes, I mean it sincerely and am not being passive aggressive.
20. It’s more than ok if you make yourself at home, help yourself to food, kick off your shoes but manners are very much welcomed.

Karl’s reply was something like, “Sure, send me this after I booked the ticket.” I am pretty sure he is still coming for the visit though.