I went to a "Cabaret" tonight. I use the term "Cabaret" loosely as it felt more like a high school talent show than a performance at a bar with a two drink minimum. I have many lovely qualities (I say, of course, with ALL humility) but one of my less than lovely qualities is that when it comes to performance art I'm a SNOB. I trained classically in music in college, studied music, dance and theatre for years as a child and an adult and like many singer/actor/dancers I am WAY too opinionated for anyone else's good.
And tonight? Tonight was amateur hour at what I thought was going to be a polished performance. No big deal, right? Right, except I've already established that I'm a SNOB and when I'm enjoying a cocktail I like to enjoy it without the diatribe of a comic who can't read his own notes on his note pad or a singer whose misreading the sheet music to the song she had learned only earlier that day.
Oy.
I told my partner in crime I'd had enough of open mic night and we planned to make a break for it and then the Quintessential Villain showed up. He was an ex of my friends and he literally looked like a villain. I mean, you know those bad guys in the movies based on Alexander Dumas novels? This guy had the long hair, the moustache, the pointy triangle beard. I turned to my friend and asked as politely as I could, "You dated THAT guy?" Apparently he IS actually playing a villain in a period play (which truthfully, disappointed me a little. I was kind of hoping he just was THAT kooky). But because of this Quintessential Villain my escape plan was put on hold. My friend wanted to stay and visit with him and other actors from his play.
Oh no she DIH-INT!
Thou shalt not forsake thy girlfriend for an exboyfriend.
Especially one who looks like an extra from The Three Muskateers.
Pouting, I decided to call it a night. Bad entertainment AND competing for my friends attention with a bunch of unattractive men? I hear 'Sex and the City' and chocolate calling my name back home. As I drove home I realized what was really bothering me.
My girlfriend was able to get an affectionate hug from her ex and then proceed to enjoy an eve catching up with him while mine continued to slander me thousands of miles away.
Why are some women able to stay on good terms with their exes while others can't even manage to be facebook friends?
Was it just me?
Was I the only one?
Because as my record stood I remained friends with exactly zero exboyfriends.
None.
I know I can be a little unreasonable at times. I'm passionate and opinionated and intense and I get that I'm too hot to handle for some men but....none? No exes converted to friends? Mine was pleading with the men he knew to stay away from me because Lord only knows what I'll do if I get my hands on some dude.
I just go after everyone. No self control. He's a guy I simply GOTTA have him!
Apparently this is the reputation I have developed. I'm determined to take it as a compliment especially since the number of dates I've gone on in the past year is laughable to warrant such a rep.
But hey, when you've got it you've got it and apparently I possess MAD skill!!
(The fact I actually only dated, oh excuse me, "went after" one man is entirely beside the point).
Anyway, whatever the great secret is to actually remaining friends with someone you once greatly loved I'd be thrilled to solve the mystery.
Maybe it is just me.
Maybe I'm inadvertently picking the guys who are actually kooky enough to just dress like quintessential villains.
They just disguise it cleverly with tattoos and foreign accents.
Assholes.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Lighten up buddy, it's only brunch
This afternoon I met one of my favorite friends for brunch at the Screen Door. This restaurant is located at literally the dividing line of Burnside so on one side of the street is East and right across is West. Eerie.
When we walked in the place was packed but fortunately they had one of those self serve coffee stations set up at the bar and if I can drink coffee while I wait I don't mind if it takes 46 minutes 'til I get my eggs and toast. As I approached the counter I noticed the waiter at the bar was pretty cute and even though I hadn't yet had my coffee I thought I'd flex my flirt. I was rocking my blue plaid flannel shirt, black fringe dress, red boot combination, very 'I'm artsy and girly and I really put no thought into throwing this outfit together' and I was feeling pretty cute (if I do say so myself, thank you). As I took my white ceramic cup and attempted to fill it with coffee I pumped twice and noticed four ounces was about as much as the coffee urn had left to give me. I caught the eye of the cute waiter and flashing my most flirtatious smile said, "I'm stealing all the coffee!" He came closer and needed me to repeat my clever way of saying 'The coffee pot's empty, buddy, think you could handle fillin' 'er up?' He's SURE to find me adorably clever and irresistible. So I bat my eyelashes one more time and say in my seductive Scarlett Johansson voice, "I'm stealing ALL the coffee." And he, in turn, replied with an unamused, curt, "Oh no, you'll pay for that later."
Ummm. Did I miss something? Did I stumble into some bad lighting? Did he fail to notice I'm wearing FRINGE, that's right, a fringe flapper dress? Hello!!
I clarified that I meant the coffee pot was empty so he simply got me a new one and with my now full cup of coffee I stumbled over to my favorite friend and sighed, "Flirt FAIL."
But hey, at least I got my coffee.
When we walked in the place was packed but fortunately they had one of those self serve coffee stations set up at the bar and if I can drink coffee while I wait I don't mind if it takes 46 minutes 'til I get my eggs and toast. As I approached the counter I noticed the waiter at the bar was pretty cute and even though I hadn't yet had my coffee I thought I'd flex my flirt. I was rocking my blue plaid flannel shirt, black fringe dress, red boot combination, very 'I'm artsy and girly and I really put no thought into throwing this outfit together' and I was feeling pretty cute (if I do say so myself, thank you). As I took my white ceramic cup and attempted to fill it with coffee I pumped twice and noticed four ounces was about as much as the coffee urn had left to give me. I caught the eye of the cute waiter and flashing my most flirtatious smile said, "I'm stealing all the coffee!" He came closer and needed me to repeat my clever way of saying 'The coffee pot's empty, buddy, think you could handle fillin' 'er up?' He's SURE to find me adorably clever and irresistible. So I bat my eyelashes one more time and say in my seductive Scarlett Johansson voice, "I'm stealing ALL the coffee." And he, in turn, replied with an unamused, curt, "Oh no, you'll pay for that later."
Ummm. Did I miss something? Did I stumble into some bad lighting? Did he fail to notice I'm wearing FRINGE, that's right, a fringe flapper dress? Hello!!
I clarified that I meant the coffee pot was empty so he simply got me a new one and with my now full cup of coffee I stumbled over to my favorite friend and sighed, "Flirt FAIL."
But hey, at least I got my coffee.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Warning: This Devilish Woman is Irresistible
"Don't talk to her. She goes after every guy she's friends with."
Aha.
So this is why I have no male friends.
Their egos pervert my affection into something more than I ever meant it to be.
Nice.
AWESOME.
Sooo...if I start acting like an icy, indifferent bitch to men do you think they'll still find me overly flirtatious?
"She's just playing hard to get."
"She thinks she's better than everyone else."
"Did you see the way she looked at me? She totally wants me."
I guess people can twist anything into something else.
They're just that wicked talented.
Somehow though I'm not impressed.
If I do "go after" all the men in my life as this insecure child is telling people I do then what does that say for the men who apparently can't resist my overtures? Are you all so terribly weak and pathetic? Are you truly that incapable of thinking for yourself and making your own big boy decisions?
Awe, poor baby.
Shall I get your mommy for you?
Or maybe just your sippy cup?
Give me a break. One thing is clear. Sexism is still as prevalent today as it was when we didn't have the vote. At least back then there were certain things men knew were unacceptable in the eyes of society. Today anything goes. Oh but when the scandals of said anything are brought to light they're always the fault of the "devilish woman."
The women are always Delilah's and the men are always lion slaying Samson's.
With hearts of freakin' gold.
Clearly a man would only stray because of one special woman.
He would never fall for a woman merely because she's female.
Nooooo.
Only those cunning, crafty, conniving temptresses can get men to do naughty things.
They never have impure thoughts on their own.
Stupid Eve.
Adam would have done just fine if it weren't for you.
You know what else I love?
Since we're on the subject....
I love it when men work the "Well, me and my GIRLFRIEND" statement into a conversation as if to put a big block on my friendly overtures. Their subtlety in emphasizing their significant other is about as subtle as my disdain over their unwarranted hubris.
Hey buddy! I work at STAR-BUCKS. I get paid to feign interest in your daily life. Do you think I really give a damn how work is going for you or what your weekend plans are? I could be anywhere else doing anything else, making art, making love, making a difference in the lives of people I genuinely care for. But no, I gotta work just like you, and that work is called CUSTOMER SERVICE. So how about you get over yourself for one solid minute. This little coffee girl is really not interested in seeing your slick bedroom moves. Why don't you just take your crayons and go practice your lower case letters.
What's great about our modern technological day and age is that deleting someone from my life is more thorough, more all encompassing and fool proof than it has ever been for any generation prior. Before our media obsessed culture I'd have to continue seeing acquaintances at social gatherings, parties, events. If someone pissed me off I couldn't delete them from The 400 or have them spend spring break at another summer spot. Oh but now? NOW I can change my phone number so they can never call or text me. I can block their emails so I never receive another for the entirety of Yahoo. I can block them from Facebook so they can never read one of my witty status updates. And I can trust God, that if He wants to keep me in a protected bubble like He has from the evil incarnate that is Narcissus He will certainly protect me from the lot of THEM.
Hallelujah.
Kyrie Eleison.
Winky face.
Heart.
Matthew 5:44.
Aha.
So this is why I have no male friends.
Their egos pervert my affection into something more than I ever meant it to be.
Nice.
AWESOME.
Sooo...if I start acting like an icy, indifferent bitch to men do you think they'll still find me overly flirtatious?
"She's just playing hard to get."
"She thinks she's better than everyone else."
"Did you see the way she looked at me? She totally wants me."
I guess people can twist anything into something else.
They're just that wicked talented.
Somehow though I'm not impressed.
If I do "go after" all the men in my life as this insecure child is telling people I do then what does that say for the men who apparently can't resist my overtures? Are you all so terribly weak and pathetic? Are you truly that incapable of thinking for yourself and making your own big boy decisions?
Awe, poor baby.
Shall I get your mommy for you?
Or maybe just your sippy cup?
Give me a break. One thing is clear. Sexism is still as prevalent today as it was when we didn't have the vote. At least back then there were certain things men knew were unacceptable in the eyes of society. Today anything goes. Oh but when the scandals of said anything are brought to light they're always the fault of the "devilish woman."
The women are always Delilah's and the men are always lion slaying Samson's.
With hearts of freakin' gold.
Clearly a man would only stray because of one special woman.
He would never fall for a woman merely because she's female.
Nooooo.
Only those cunning, crafty, conniving temptresses can get men to do naughty things.
They never have impure thoughts on their own.
Stupid Eve.
Adam would have done just fine if it weren't for you.
You know what else I love?
Since we're on the subject....
I love it when men work the "Well, me and my GIRLFRIEND" statement into a conversation as if to put a big block on my friendly overtures. Their subtlety in emphasizing their significant other is about as subtle as my disdain over their unwarranted hubris.
Hey buddy! I work at STAR-BUCKS. I get paid to feign interest in your daily life. Do you think I really give a damn how work is going for you or what your weekend plans are? I could be anywhere else doing anything else, making art, making love, making a difference in the lives of people I genuinely care for. But no, I gotta work just like you, and that work is called CUSTOMER SERVICE. So how about you get over yourself for one solid minute. This little coffee girl is really not interested in seeing your slick bedroom moves. Why don't you just take your crayons and go practice your lower case letters.
What's great about our modern technological day and age is that deleting someone from my life is more thorough, more all encompassing and fool proof than it has ever been for any generation prior. Before our media obsessed culture I'd have to continue seeing acquaintances at social gatherings, parties, events. If someone pissed me off I couldn't delete them from The 400 or have them spend spring break at another summer spot. Oh but now? NOW I can change my phone number so they can never call or text me. I can block their emails so I never receive another for the entirety of Yahoo. I can block them from Facebook so they can never read one of my witty status updates. And I can trust God, that if He wants to keep me in a protected bubble like He has from the evil incarnate that is Narcissus He will certainly protect me from the lot of THEM.
Hallelujah.
Kyrie Eleison.
Winky face.
Heart.
Matthew 5:44.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
If it's good enough for the birds....
"The male eagle leaves to find a female. When he finds one, they begin a game of tag, which is actually a type of courtship. The female eagle soars high in the sky in a figure-eight pattern and makes the male eagle chase her. Now he is no longer flying his own course; he is following someone else-- someone who appears to be going in a strange direction.
After a little while she dives to the ground, picks up a twig, flies up to about ten thousand feet, and drops the twig. He dives at approximately two hundred miles per hour to catch the twig in midair and takes it back to her. What is her response? She ignores him.
The female eagle repeats this process, and she makes the male's job increasingly difficult. Each time she flies, the twig gets larger and she flies at a lower altitude. That means the twig is going to hit the ground faster, and the male will have to work harder if he wants to win her over.
This game can literally go on for days. Finally, the female gets a branch that is heavier than the male eagle. This time the female flies only five hundred feet above the ground and drops the branch. If he catches it, they go on together. If not, she flies off and leaves him; she has decided to wait for a male eagle who has the tenacity to be her man.
Once he passes the final twig test, both eagles move from courtship to the final commitment test. She flies high into the sky; he chases her; and suddenly she makes an odd move. In midair, she flips over on her back and sticks her talons up. The male moves over her and locks his talons with hers while they fall toward the earth. At this point he has made up his mind. He is committed, and he would die rather than let her go. Now they begin to sing a love song. They mate for life. Neither of them ever has another mate unless one of them dies. If the female dies, the male raises the young.
Even after the mating process is finished and she is his and they are in their nest, the male eagle continues to court the female for the rest of their lives. Male eagles have been seen to stroke the feathers of their female companions and to bring green twigs home to them long after the courtship is complete."
-Taken from "Never Give Up" by Joyce Meyer
After a little while she dives to the ground, picks up a twig, flies up to about ten thousand feet, and drops the twig. He dives at approximately two hundred miles per hour to catch the twig in midair and takes it back to her. What is her response? She ignores him.
The female eagle repeats this process, and she makes the male's job increasingly difficult. Each time she flies, the twig gets larger and she flies at a lower altitude. That means the twig is going to hit the ground faster, and the male will have to work harder if he wants to win her over.
This game can literally go on for days. Finally, the female gets a branch that is heavier than the male eagle. This time the female flies only five hundred feet above the ground and drops the branch. If he catches it, they go on together. If not, she flies off and leaves him; she has decided to wait for a male eagle who has the tenacity to be her man.
Once he passes the final twig test, both eagles move from courtship to the final commitment test. She flies high into the sky; he chases her; and suddenly she makes an odd move. In midair, she flips over on her back and sticks her talons up. The male moves over her and locks his talons with hers while they fall toward the earth. At this point he has made up his mind. He is committed, and he would die rather than let her go. Now they begin to sing a love song. They mate for life. Neither of them ever has another mate unless one of them dies. If the female dies, the male raises the young.
Even after the mating process is finished and she is his and they are in their nest, the male eagle continues to court the female for the rest of their lives. Male eagles have been seen to stroke the feathers of their female companions and to bring green twigs home to them long after the courtship is complete."
-Taken from "Never Give Up" by Joyce Meyer
The stuff that buries you alive
I own a lot of things. I mean, a comically huge plethora of stuff. I always thought it was funny, that I was such a pack rat. Reading Gary Chapman's "The Five Love Languages" it is clear "Gifts" is my main love language. It means something when someone gives me something. I associate a memory to the item and every time I see the gift it reminds me how that person loves me and thought of me.
My Grandfather passed away last year and since then my Aunts and Grandma have devoted hours and felt great stress over getting rid of all kinds of things my Grandma and Grandpa kept for years. I don't understand because I've never dealt with it directly but watching how much time they spend agonizing over where to send certain things, who needs to take what, I always wonder why they don't just ship it all off to Goodwill or hire movers to come take everything away to donate to people who really need it. I think that everyone associates significance with things and also with space.
I lived with someone who was controlling and passive aggressive over space and stuff. He constantly bought items to fill his house and then would grow irrationally angry over the clutter that was everywhere.
When I finally moved out of that house all I wanted to do was get rid of all my stuff. It was all such a burden. It was the reason I'd stayed longer than I should have wanting to find a way to take all my stuff with me when I left.
Even after giving away countless bags and boxes of things to friends and the Arc I still have so much stuff. If I leave something in a room my Aunt doesn't think it should be in I will find that she has moved it somewhere. The house is slowly depleting in items until sometime very soon there will be nothing left. And everyone will celebrate that they succeeded in removing all the junk that cluttered and then when everything's gone and the house is gone and Grandma is gone they will be sad that nothing is there.
People suffer from chronic dissatisfaction. It is toxic and contagious and I despise being around it. Nothing is good enough, nothing is quite right, there's more to be done and why do we still have this and we need a new one of those and so on and so forth.
If I never kept anything I could be out of everyone's way and be no bother at all and maybe I'd be left alone.
And maybe the passive aggressive controlling misers would think I needed stuff and start giving me things because I didn't have them. And then they'd fume when I left my cup on their side of the counter.
I think Mr.Indecisive had it down. He owned so few possessions that he could fit it all neatly in his car.
It makes an escape that much easier to make.
Hats off to you, Alaska.
My beautiful things are killing me slowly.
My Grandfather passed away last year and since then my Aunts and Grandma have devoted hours and felt great stress over getting rid of all kinds of things my Grandma and Grandpa kept for years. I don't understand because I've never dealt with it directly but watching how much time they spend agonizing over where to send certain things, who needs to take what, I always wonder why they don't just ship it all off to Goodwill or hire movers to come take everything away to donate to people who really need it. I think that everyone associates significance with things and also with space.
I lived with someone who was controlling and passive aggressive over space and stuff. He constantly bought items to fill his house and then would grow irrationally angry over the clutter that was everywhere.
When I finally moved out of that house all I wanted to do was get rid of all my stuff. It was all such a burden. It was the reason I'd stayed longer than I should have wanting to find a way to take all my stuff with me when I left.
Even after giving away countless bags and boxes of things to friends and the Arc I still have so much stuff. If I leave something in a room my Aunt doesn't think it should be in I will find that she has moved it somewhere. The house is slowly depleting in items until sometime very soon there will be nothing left. And everyone will celebrate that they succeeded in removing all the junk that cluttered and then when everything's gone and the house is gone and Grandma is gone they will be sad that nothing is there.
People suffer from chronic dissatisfaction. It is toxic and contagious and I despise being around it. Nothing is good enough, nothing is quite right, there's more to be done and why do we still have this and we need a new one of those and so on and so forth.
If I never kept anything I could be out of everyone's way and be no bother at all and maybe I'd be left alone.
And maybe the passive aggressive controlling misers would think I needed stuff and start giving me things because I didn't have them. And then they'd fume when I left my cup on their side of the counter.
I think Mr.Indecisive had it down. He owned so few possessions that he could fit it all neatly in his car.
It makes an escape that much easier to make.
Hats off to you, Alaska.
My beautiful things are killing me slowly.
Merry Christmas, you filthy animal
"Christmas is for kids," someone told me and I agreed with them because it seemed the right thing to do. There are times when stating an opinion seems relevant and times when just nodding your head in agreement seems to take presidence.
Once I told a co worker that I wasn't sure if I ever wanted to get married and especially didn't know if I wanted to have kids. She squinted her eyes at me and with all sincerity asked, "Then what's the point?"
Hmm. It makes you wonder.
If holidays are not for adults but for children, if my sole life purpose is to bear children and I don't then according to our society I am...what?
Without?
Without what exactly?
Jesus said we are to become like children. WE are meaning who we are right now as boring blase insignificant adults because there is a child in all of us, a spirit in each of us desiring to be seen, to be valued and appreciated.
I'm so tired of feeling like the only purpose anyone thinks I should have is to get married and have kids. I'm so damn stubborn that I feel like if God ever put that desire on my heart I'd fight it just in spite of everyone. I know those people who are married because they had nothing better to do and had kids because it seemed the time to have them and maybe some of them are genuinely happy or maybe they're wondering why they let their life become something they thought it should be rather than allow the unpredictable peculiarities of life to shape theirs into something only suited for them.
The people of remembrance we read biographies about, inventors and scientists, artists with their radical ideas, the doctor who was dubbed a looney for suggesting they wash their hands in between patients so as not to infect another patient, they all went against the accepted protocol, the monotony of daily life, the drones of people who were convincing one another theirs was the way things were to be.
Why is Christmas a holiday for children? Isn't it the celebration of the birth of Jesus? Was He not born for me as much as He was born for a 5 year old? Why do so many adults stop giving gifts as adults? Is it important to teach a child to find value in stuff and learn that love wraps itself in brightly colored paper and multiple toys but once you're old enough to buy your own toys don't expect anyone else to buy them for you? You want to feel loved as an adult, go buy it yourself. Because now shopping for you is a burden. Only kids bring joy. Adults bring headaches.
And then we wonder why we're all so isolated and lonely and unhappy and taking four different medications just to keep from killing our neighbor.
Don't adults need love, attention, affection, more than children?
Don't kids begin crying and cease sobbing just as quickly as they began because something sparkly caught their eye? Isn't it the grownups who huddle in corners alone, late at night wondering why, feeling without, feeling alone?
It makes me sad to think I'm part of a culture that only celebrates certain life traditions. If I never marry, never have kids I might as well move to a tropical island away from pitying eyes who wonder what my point is.
My point?
How about this for a point.
To live my life loving God, learning to put Him first, learning to love and accept myself in spite of who I am and refusing to give up on everyone else, determined to overcome evil with good.
No matter what any of you has to say about that.
Once I told a co worker that I wasn't sure if I ever wanted to get married and especially didn't know if I wanted to have kids. She squinted her eyes at me and with all sincerity asked, "Then what's the point?"
Hmm. It makes you wonder.
If holidays are not for adults but for children, if my sole life purpose is to bear children and I don't then according to our society I am...what?
Without?
Without what exactly?
Jesus said we are to become like children. WE are meaning who we are right now as boring blase insignificant adults because there is a child in all of us, a spirit in each of us desiring to be seen, to be valued and appreciated.
I'm so tired of feeling like the only purpose anyone thinks I should have is to get married and have kids. I'm so damn stubborn that I feel like if God ever put that desire on my heart I'd fight it just in spite of everyone. I know those people who are married because they had nothing better to do and had kids because it seemed the time to have them and maybe some of them are genuinely happy or maybe they're wondering why they let their life become something they thought it should be rather than allow the unpredictable peculiarities of life to shape theirs into something only suited for them.
The people of remembrance we read biographies about, inventors and scientists, artists with their radical ideas, the doctor who was dubbed a looney for suggesting they wash their hands in between patients so as not to infect another patient, they all went against the accepted protocol, the monotony of daily life, the drones of people who were convincing one another theirs was the way things were to be.
Why is Christmas a holiday for children? Isn't it the celebration of the birth of Jesus? Was He not born for me as much as He was born for a 5 year old? Why do so many adults stop giving gifts as adults? Is it important to teach a child to find value in stuff and learn that love wraps itself in brightly colored paper and multiple toys but once you're old enough to buy your own toys don't expect anyone else to buy them for you? You want to feel loved as an adult, go buy it yourself. Because now shopping for you is a burden. Only kids bring joy. Adults bring headaches.
And then we wonder why we're all so isolated and lonely and unhappy and taking four different medications just to keep from killing our neighbor.
Don't adults need love, attention, affection, more than children?
Don't kids begin crying and cease sobbing just as quickly as they began because something sparkly caught their eye? Isn't it the grownups who huddle in corners alone, late at night wondering why, feeling without, feeling alone?
It makes me sad to think I'm part of a culture that only celebrates certain life traditions. If I never marry, never have kids I might as well move to a tropical island away from pitying eyes who wonder what my point is.
My point?
How about this for a point.
To live my life loving God, learning to put Him first, learning to love and accept myself in spite of who I am and refusing to give up on everyone else, determined to overcome evil with good.
No matter what any of you has to say about that.
Mmm, Sa-tis-fied
"I've gained ten pounds in the last couple months," a friend told me. She said it dejectedly, as though she were an alcoholic admitting to polishing off a vodka fifth the night prior.
When she mentioned that I thought of my own last couple months and realized I think I've gained something like 10 pounds myself. Do I have a scale? No, but I can tell by the way my dresses fit. Ten pounds is really not a whole heck of a lot but it's enough to notice how easily a zipper slides over your hips and for some women it can be the reason they order the fruit cup instead of the pancakes at brunch.
I also made another discovery. Since gaining this weight I have been pursued by more men than I was ten pounds ago. My point? Unless you can look me in the eyes and honestly say that your goal to lose Ten-Fifteen-Fifty-seven pounds is for your own eyes, your health, your desire to run for breast cancer then don't skip the pancakes for the Mens, darling. They either like you or they don't. And fitting into a size six instead of your current twelve isn't going to be the magic spell that makes them fall for you. Maybe you'll attract the undesirables who would only like you smaller. Maybe you'll feel more confident because you'll be more comfy in your own skin and if that's the case I say more power to ya!
But most gals I know want to be a different size because they think the one they currently are isn't good enough and isn't desirable.
And that, well that just makes them "so pretty" for being so damn foolish.
So eat your damn scone and enjoy it. And go for a walk with a friend and tell each other how beautiful you each are. And look up at that incredible sky and marvel at all the things you've lived through under that same moon.
You're still you no matter what the tag says on your jeans.
Isn't it time you started appreciating that woman and stopped worrying about how others see her?
Maybe I'm attracting more men because I've learned to love this curvy gal, with her past mistakes and errors in judgment included. And maybe love attracts love.
Maybe when you're content alone with your cup of coffee that's when someone's gonna wanna join you and learn why you can't seem to stop smiling.
When she mentioned that I thought of my own last couple months and realized I think I've gained something like 10 pounds myself. Do I have a scale? No, but I can tell by the way my dresses fit. Ten pounds is really not a whole heck of a lot but it's enough to notice how easily a zipper slides over your hips and for some women it can be the reason they order the fruit cup instead of the pancakes at brunch.
I also made another discovery. Since gaining this weight I have been pursued by more men than I was ten pounds ago. My point? Unless you can look me in the eyes and honestly say that your goal to lose Ten-Fifteen-Fifty-seven pounds is for your own eyes, your health, your desire to run for breast cancer then don't skip the pancakes for the Mens, darling. They either like you or they don't. And fitting into a size six instead of your current twelve isn't going to be the magic spell that makes them fall for you. Maybe you'll attract the undesirables who would only like you smaller. Maybe you'll feel more confident because you'll be more comfy in your own skin and if that's the case I say more power to ya!
But most gals I know want to be a different size because they think the one they currently are isn't good enough and isn't desirable.
And that, well that just makes them "so pretty" for being so damn foolish.
So eat your damn scone and enjoy it. And go for a walk with a friend and tell each other how beautiful you each are. And look up at that incredible sky and marvel at all the things you've lived through under that same moon.
You're still you no matter what the tag says on your jeans.
Isn't it time you started appreciating that woman and stopped worrying about how others see her?
Maybe I'm attracting more men because I've learned to love this curvy gal, with her past mistakes and errors in judgment included. And maybe love attracts love.
Maybe when you're content alone with your cup of coffee that's when someone's gonna wanna join you and learn why you can't seem to stop smiling.
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