CAUTION: A Lifetime of Hangups Just Ahead To Your Left (Can Sir Mix-A-Lot Counteract Any Of It?)

Two months after my heart was brutally destroyed and rendered useless (or so I thought), I met someone. And this someone is truly amazing. Handsome, smart, funny, smooth, and incredibly sexy with a body that makes me drool uncontrollably, this man is just about any heterosexual woman’s *ahem* (wet) dream come true.

So what’s the problem, you may ask?

For some strange reason, he likes me.

I’m skeptical- Extremely skeptical. I know I say this all the time, and I mean it all the time but this guy is really out of my league. Way, WAY out of my league. Like Babe Ruth’s bat cracking the ball way out of Sportsman’s Park and across the street out of my league. Know what I’m saying?



What does a gorgeous, single, young, handsome, track running, muscle-defined man with long, luscious limbs, and a smile that could melt a girl’s heart want with me? Out of all the single women on campus, why pick me?

My galaxy quest guys (you know- the censors within everyone’s heads) are having a field day with this one. They are debating this old school style with white wigs, coat tails and gavels (they can be so dramatic when they want to be) I keep mulling it over and over as each new hang-up comes bubbling up to the surface.

He’s already reassured me a bazillion times on our two dates this past weekend how much he likes me and how attractive he finds me. He tells me that back East, brothers like their girls thick. Wha-Wha-Wha-What?!?! Come again? You mean to tell me that there’s a whole gaggle of men out there that aren’t into the Barbie dolls? And I haven’t been paying attention? I’ve got some hard core bruises from kicking myself so hard.

Still…

He’s extremely affectionate towards me. The personal space invasion began the very minute our first date started when he asked me to hold his arm old school style and accompany him in the rain (everyone say awww…) And it ended with some serious cuddle time on the couch on our second date. Actually, it didn't end at all. He had to see me today for a school project we're working on together and let me tell you that if we're not careful, we might just find every quiet nook and cranny of Knight Library.

Yet…

I'm really nervous here. And I and the galaxy quest guys can't quite pinpoint why. I know that he throws me way off balance. I can't even flirt effectively. He calls me out on anything I attempt (Um, I usually have the raised eyebrow and sexy gaze trick locked down... but he makes me too giddy to even try it). I'm nervous around a body in such good shape that I just want my flabby limbs to shrink up and die. He sure is something else. And he talks about wanting to have a relationship. Perhaps that’s part of the problem too. I’m not really ready for a relationship right now. Intimate relations- sure, who wouldn’t pass that up? But an actual honest-to-God relationship? After all I’ve been through? I don’t know. I still feel a little shell-shocked. But I don’t want hurt him and I don’t want to ruin anything that could potentially happen. My usual thing is to jump right into a hot and heavy relationship with someone, see them exclusively while I let the rest of the world rot all around me outside of our protective coupledom bubble, and then dump the poor guy two or three years later when I realize that I’m not happy. I tend to blame the lack of happiness on the guy too. Bad, Bad, Punkin! I’m ready for a change here. I’m ready to break free of my hang-ups and my binding cocoon and just step outside of my comfort zone for good. And he’s offering me that chance. Is that the Universe offering me an unrealized gift again?

I don’t know for sure.

But tonight I'm just gonna kick it back with Sir Mix-A-Lot and thank my lucky stars for the guys who like skinny waists and big butts. Just where have they been all my life?!?

I'm tired of magazines
Sayin' flat butts are the thing
Take the average black man and ask him that
She gotta pack much back
So, fellas! (Yeah!) Fellas! (Yeah!)
Has your girlfriend got the butt? (Hell yeah!)
Tell 'em to shake it! (Shake it!) Shake it! (Shake it!)
Shake that healthy butt!
Baby got back!

So Cosmo says you're fat
Well I ain't down with that!
'Cause your waist is small and your curves are kickin'
And I'm thinkin' bout stickin'
To the beanpole dames in the magazines:
You ain't it, Miss Thing!

Baby got back!

Now Tell Me How You Really Feel

I’ve been searching through a ton of blogs about weight issues and weight loss (pun not actually intended). I wade through story after story about the evil donut that must die or the elliptical machine that saved someone’s life or the occasional abbreviated post about the weirdness that comes from inhabiting a changing body. There are also Fat positive blogs and body image blogs that stress an end to discrimination, some embarrassing and heartfelt stories of life as a Fatty, the daily barrage of hate that we must deflect from society, followed up by positive little blurbs that say things like “love the skin you’re in!”, and offer helpful comeback quips for the moronic comments made about our bodies in public. They’re all well and good but I find that I’m still yearning for something else. It seems that I have yet to find a really juicy blog that deals with the truly nitty-gritty psychological aspects of losing weight.

What I mean when I say psychological aspects is that I want to see the posts about the girl who loses more than 25% of her body weight and suddenly finds the prospect of socializing with skinny people as absolutely terrifying because she still doesn’t think she measures up.

Perhaps she’s afraid to order the cookie at the deli counter because the little blond server might look at her funny (even though she’s lost all that weight and hasn’t eaten a damn thing all day and the chocolate chip oatmeal cookies are her absolute favorite. Plus she just made it through another week juggling school and work and this is her just reward regardless of what tee-shirt size she’s wearing at the moment).

She still thinks of herself as grossly overweight (because, duh, the government tells her it’s so and why would she ever disagree with something they’d say?!?) and she can’t help but stare into every mirror that she passes by and glance at the remaining troublesome spots. Yesterday she caught a quick look at a reflection in the glass insert of a doorway and it took her several seconds to grasp the fact that it was actually her and not someone else (where did all those curves come from?!?!). This event happens with greater frequency as the fat melts away.

Sometimes she’s scared of the person she’s becoming- more narcissistic and concerned with coordinating fashion because she can fit into so many more articles of clothing than ever before (is she just wasting her time worrying about such inconsequential matters when much of the world lives without safe drinking water, daily risks of infection, starvation, lack of basic human rights, and the ever present danger of death? Hmm, but seriously- does that handbag really match those shoes or what….?).

Where are the posts that have the girl wondering if she’s made a mistake by losing weight? What happens when she loses enough weight to start to creep up on the radar of the male species and suddenly these men want to dance with her and want to kiss her and want to publicly acknowledge her attractiveness? Can she trust them? How can she learn to let herself trust skinny people at all? Wouldn’t it just be easier to put the weight back on than have to face what she fears- a brand new type of vulnerability in social situations and more chances for intimate connections?

I want to know how others struggle with the hidden psychological aspects of losing weight. What happens to our psyches when we change so completely that we are no longer recognizable on the inside (as well as the outside) as the people we used to be and the bodies we used to inhabit? Who stands up to those things that terrify them the most and doesn’t go back the way they came on the scale? Where are the posts that mark these struggles and give real life advice on how to get through them to reach our goals?

This girl could sure use them right about now.

Goodbye Old Girl

© 2006 Punkin Dunkin Productions

Mollie died last night at the ripe old age of 12 and she was one of the sweetest dogs I ever encountered. Mollie used to nudge and nudge and nudge people on their elbows to get them to pet her. I once spilled wine all over my lap when she butted her long nose against my arm in an attempt to get noticed.

I remember one of the last times I spent more than just a minute or two with her. It was a cold morning, when I took this picture, and she was on her blankie in the laundry room with her paws stretched out in front of the wall heater. She sat quietly as I snapped away in the Sunday morning light. She looked happy and content, even if a little confused with my lens right in her face.

"My, what a magnificent collie..."

The First Song

I'm learning my first official song for the violin (if you don't count 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' or 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star'). Only a month into practice, my teacher handed me sheet music for Camptown Races. I've never read music before. This is a test of my abilities- a real test! Even though my wrist often finds a home underneath the neck of violin and I can't seem transition from one string to the next without some serious squeakage or a noticeable pause in playing, I am actually having fun. My goal is to learn this song well enough to play it for someone other than my teacher in another month. So far, the only time that my playing sounds great is when I practice open strings (no fingers) or when I play along with my teacher and her playing covers up my squeaking. She also put tape markers on the neck for me to hit the right notes but they keep falling off due to the heat and my sticky fingers. Now she wants me to learn to find the spots without help from the tape! I'm trying to accept that it's okay to be pushed beyond my boundaries a bit. Just so long as she doesn't suggest a formal recital for a good long year...

Light In The Dark

© 2006 Punkin Dunkin Productions

CLiFT'S

© 2006 Punkin Dunkin Productions

The Best Yet

This is my favorite Google Bomb so far: terrorist sympathizer.

Who is that at the top of the list? Yeah, baby!

That's Right- It's Possible To Be Plus Sized And Sexy

I love when places use real models with real curves to show off their plus sized fashions. This is my new favorite catalog. Any place that has a collection titled "Summer Sexy" is okay in my book!!(And I'm currently coveting the little number to the left)

A Thousand Years Ago

I logged into a site today that I use on a regular basis. When I gave my password, I realized that it was today's date only with a different year. I know why I chose that password; it was a day I assumed was going to make a significant difference in my life.

But I never imagined what that difference would eventually turn out to be.

Two years ago on this day, I called up an ex-boyfriend. I had not spoken to him in almost 3 years at that point. I called him because I wanted to stay in touch. I called him because I wanted to know what had happened to him since we stopped speaking to one another. I called him because I was just beginning to realize all the nasty things that I did to him when we dated. I broke his heart. No, I didn't just break it. I smashed its little ventricles in, beating it to a bloody and unrecognizable pulp. I was an awful girlfriend to him. I didn't fully grasp how mean and self-centered I was until I fell for him all over again two years ago, only to have him turn around and treat me like dirt. And I deserved it. I deserved everything he could throw at me and more. It was my karma, my destiny to wake up in a fevered sweat night after night drowning in my own guilt over what had happened between us.

I thought this day was going to make a difference in my life because I was going to be forgiven.

But he didn’t forgive me. Not one little bit.

And that has made the biggest impact of all.

I needed to have someone not forgive me for my behavior. I needed to lose the possibility of even a friendship with him because I had to learn how to treat others with respect and dignity. I needed to learn the Golden Rule in a significant way where I wouldn’t forget too soon after about my pain and the pain I inflict on others.

This day has made a monumental difference for me. And I hope to never forget it.

Random Question #92

I'm curious (and mostly in regards to the context of weight but everyone is encouraged to answer) if anyone can tell me how they feel about dating "outside their league". What does it mean to date someone who you think is too good for you? In what ways are they too good or too skinny or too attractive for you? Have you ever managed to find the courage to ask them out anyways? What happened? What did you learn about yourself through the experience? How do you feel about the fact that leagues (at least in the context of attractiveness) exist at all? And what do you recommend to others who worry about dating someone "beyond their league"?

SENDING OUT AN S.O.S.

Walked out this morning, don't believe what I saw
Hundred billion bottles washed up on the shore
Seems I'm not alone in being alone
Hundred billion castaways, looking for a home
I'll send an S.O.S. to the world
I'll send an S.O.S. to the world
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my
Message in a bottle, yeah
Message in a bottle, yeah
Message in a bottle, yeah
Message in a bottle, yeah
Sending out at an S.O.S.
Sending out at an S.O.S.
Sending out at an S.O.S.
Sending out at an S.O.S.
Sending out at an S.O.S.
Sending out at an S.O.S...
-------------------------------------------------
A consequence of my recent heartache:

I will no longer entertain the thought that there is or could be a God.

God does not exist.
At least not for me, in my mind.

I’ve been told my whole life that God loves me and Jesus loves me and if I’m good and I pray real hard all the time, I’ll lead a happy life. I’ll be rewarded with everlasting life when I die because I’ve suffered on earth and when I sin Jesus takes away my sins because he suffered for me…

…blah…blah…blah…

I’d like to know why I have to wait to be happy. I’d like to know why this can’t be heaven on earth down here. I’d like to know why I had my happiness ripped away from me- my hope for something more than I could ever have imagined- and why I’m back to square one (sometimes even less than that). I’d like to know why I was let down.

"God works in mysterious ways. "

I CALL BULLSHIT.

If there was a God and God loved me as much as everyone says God does, this would not have happened. I would not have been teased with something so great that it permeated every inch of my soul.

SUCH F***ING BULLSHIT


I have always questioned whether there was a god because I couldn't see god or feel god or understand god. My parents said god existed whether I could see god or not but I was skeptical. Whenever I went to church, god was represented as a ray of light or just really big feet in sandals or even a very old man with a long white beard and bushy eyebrows and I was very skeptical. I never heard the voice of god, never saw angels, or Jesus, or the easter bunny, or santa and I was really skeptical. I couldn't understand why I was praying to something that never spoke directly to me or gave me some sort of indication that it was there and it thought of me and believed in me and loved me. I don't have time for such games. Show yourself to me or prepare to be pushed aside.

I toyed with the idea of declaring my atheism because I'd not been given a reason to believe otherwise. I didn't think there was anything out there, or deep in here (tapping head) that was bigger than myself and more powerful than I could imagine. So it was a little surprising to me when in the last month, I came to believe in the Universe. She's managed to make her presence in my life very clear.

And man is She an apathetic Bitch!


No one ever told me of the power that the Universe holds. Sure I heard about galaxies forming and the ‘big bang’ and the millions of years and billions of miles of space we’ve got left to explore. But at no time did anyone ever suggest that the Universe was powerful enough to grant wishes. The Universe is listening all the time and although She isn’t waiting by the phone for our prayers, She does have one hand cupped to one ear at all times to hear the wishes that we shout from rooftops, announce to our friends, or whisper when we think no one else is listening.

And She’ll grant those wishes when She can tell that’s what we really want.

I couldn’t figure out why I had to endure these latest events of my life. The purpose for this pain was a consuming thought of mine for several weeks. I needed a damn answer. I needed someone to answer for this. I. WANTED. TO. KNOW. WHY. And the answer struck me recently when I was engrossed in some unrelated daily activity that I was using to dampen my pain.

I asked for this.

No really, I did. I remember the time and place and circumstances when it happened. She was doing her own thing, gardening and tending to some unfinished weeding I believe, and I approached her asking for one thing in my life and I had to say it out loud because I really wanted it- rilly, rilly badly.

(passion)

That was what I asked for. And I got exactly what I asked for, in spades. My whole life is now passion- the all consuming, can’t eat right, can’t sleep right, can’t think right kind of passion that can drive you to the brink of insanity and back. Unstable does not being to describe my mental state some days. I can’t think. I only feel. And every single cell in my body feels like it's on fire with passion. Love, Hate, Desire, Yearning, Contempt, Hope, Despair… it all exists in one throbbing package deep inside that threatens to consume my heart and my head with every passing second. And I thought I would enjoy passion. I didn't realize it wasn't going to give me what I really wanted.

And the Universe isn’t happy or sad for me.

She just looks back at me with this glassy stare and throws up Her hands, “Well, this is what you asked for. You got exactly what you wanted, sweet cheeks. Nothing more and nothing less.” And with that She turns away from me, flicking Her wrist to signal the conversation is over, and goes back to weeding Her garden leaving me to slink humbly away.

It doesn’t make everything better to know why. But it helps in some small way to know that I brought this on myself. The Universe isn’t against me. She isn’t exactly in my corner either. She doesn’t care one way or the other. She just gives me what I want and doesn’t have anything vested in the outcome (unlike a god that supposedly loves me and cares for my wellbeing).

I read my horoscope now and then (for entertainment purposes only, of course). Sometimes the message is gibberish, sometimes it's cryptic, and other times it's just dead on in a spooky way (then again, like a lot of things in this world, it's all about the interpretation). Recently, I read my horoscope on my birthday and while the horoscope itself was interesting, I found the following passage after it to be quite relevant to recent events:

SACRED ADVERTISEMENT
If I ever produce a self-help manual called The Reverse Psychology of Getting Everything You Want, it will discuss the following paradoxes:

a. People are more willing to accommodate your longings if you’re not greedy or grasping.
b. A good way to achieve your desires is to cultivate the feeling that you’ve already achieved them.
c. Whatever you’re longing for has been changed by your pursuit of it. It’s not the same as it was when you felt the first pangs of desire. In order to make it yours, then, you will have to modify your ideas about it.
d. Be careful what you wish for because if your wish does materialize it will require you to change in ways you didn’t foresee.

Review your own life and identify experiences that exemplify these four principles.

Now that I know this and I've figured out the game I'm tempted to send out another request, another S.O.S. into the great abyss. But I have to be cautious and entertain the notion that I will get what I want but I'd better be prepared to handle the outcome. Without much thought, I could ask for (love) but I know damn well that I'm too broken to appreciate the kind of love I want. And I'm not going to get the love I really want anyways.

So instead I'm asking for ----> CONTROL.

I want control in my life and over my life. I want to feel like I can approach each day levelheaded and on top of most, if not every sphere that I spend time in. I want to have control over my thoughts, my actions, my work environment, school, home, etc. I just want to feel like I am capable and organized. I want this life to be less work than it has been up to this point. And I want control over this damn passion that plagues me.

So there. I hope that the Universe gives me what I want with as few strings attached as possible. Even though She's indifferent to me, I still feel like the Universe owes me big time and I'm not being greedy by asking for a little help here. I don't want to have to sacrifice something good for something else. I don't want to have to choose an unknown prize behind one of the doors and end up with a lifetime supply of canned soup or a pet goat. I just want to be happy and have some control. I hope I don’t screw up the gift this time. I need this something to work in my favor for once. It can't make up for my loss but it can help me deal with what's in store for me.

Proof Strong Evidence That The Universe Provides When We Need It Too

Lost Hikers find way home with help from dead hiker's camp.

I'm In The Middle

of a Skeeter Davis song and I can't get it to stop.

A Perfect Birthday Present

I got to see Pink Martini perform with the Eugene Ballet over the weekend for my 29th birthday. It was simply a fantastic show. I now have a serious crush on China Forbes (yummy), the Tango, and this instrument, the shekere. I love my violin but I may have to get me some shekere too! ;)

Beach Series #6

© 2006 Punkin Dunkin Productions

Beach Series #5

© 2006 Punkin Dunkin Productions

For One Night Only

It's my ass in print.

Yep, that's me- all **8 pounds of me (hopefully I can list the number here soon; it's almost to a personally acceptable weight).

I was trying to hide my butt from the camera by lowering my shirt but the combination of a strong ocean breeze and a tight fitting tee-shirt kept me from getting the full coverage to my nether region.






I stood later on with my back to the sunset, taking pictures of the coast line and I realized I could see a slit of light between my two legs almost up to my crotch. It was very cool and if I wasn't so self conscious, I'd have taken a picture of it.

I'm still chunky, but no longer this chunky. I've got nice curves developing and I'm gonna be real proud to show them off. I used to beat myself up for not being a 115 pound blond stick figure (is it just me or does she look like a concentration camp survivor?). It dawned on me recently that I don't ever want to be that. I want the kind of curves that fill out a dress or a pair of jeans and make a few heads turn now and then. I want to belly dance with a little bit of jiggle and I want to be happy and healthy.

I'm getting close.

A Reminder From The Brain

Last night's dream was brought to me by my subconscious just one day after I made the declaration that I was not suffering from reoccurring or symbolic dreams as of lately. I dreamed that I worked at some fancy high-rise in Chicago or Portland. It is the kind of building where the steel beams crisscross one another inside of the building from ground to roof and stand exposed along the exterior walls. Full of glass windows and ostentatiously expensive looking, it held several lawyers offices and design firms.

I was working for one of the fancy design corporations (where an 8 hour day is the minimum amount of time that anyone dares to put in and that’s only once or twice a week- most of the time we clock 10+ hours in) and I had just parked my car for the day after spending an obscene amount of money for an unsecured parking spot on the street (even in my dreams I can’t hide from exorbitant parking fees!). I walked into the building in my tan, designer labeled, skirt and blazer while balancing the first of many Starbucks coffees in one hand and my leather briefcase in another, when something seemed off as I made my way to the three story escalator. It was eerily quiet as all I could hear was my heels clicking on the marble floor and bouncing off the marble covered walls. I was used to coming in early on most mornings, usually getting more done before the majority of the office arrived, but the fact that there was no doorman, no floor polisher guy in the lobby, and absolutely no one around anywhere, seemed too odd.

Once I reached my office, I noticed a colleague (Bob Whatshisname) talking to himself and moving around in his office rather strangely. I walked in and was immediately stopped in my tracks. Covering the steel beams and portions of the floor as well as Bob’s sleek steel desk was this awful green putrid slime. It smelled like a rotting animal carcass and whenever Bob walked close to a pool of it, it would jiggle slightly, sometimes a bit of it breaking off and sliding away into its own snot-like small pool. I held my nose and coughed to get his attention. He didn't seem to notice me. I called out his name several times, wanting to tap him on the shoulder, but unwilling to step over any of the slime to get to him. He was rambling, sometimes incoherently, speaking to something or someone else that I could not see.

The strangest thing about this slime was its corrosive properties. I vividly remember a pool of it forming at the bottom of one of the steel beams. Where it had dripped from, there was an erratic ring of various green and brown circles as the steel was flaking off and/or dissolving away. The process was rather quick as I could see giant holes forming in the steel beams. It occurred to me that the whole structure could collapse in a matter of days or hours at that rate.

I remember leaving the office, slightly pissed that I got all dressed up and psyched up for a hectic work day. I remember calling my best friend as I left the building and stepped out into the crowded street with the sun blinding overhead.


I sounded like a sarcastic brat from a New York borough as I yelled into the phone: “You won’t believe this one, Ellen! Work was canceled because the building is haunted! How lame is that?”

And that’s where I woke up.
------------------------------------------------
5/08/06

Whenever I have dreams of being haunted, it’s because I am avoiding something in my life. Usually these dreams pop up when I’m having an especially hard time with my procrastination and/or depression issues. I thought I was getting a handle on everything but it’s an incredibly slow process. I have good weeks and I have bad weeks. I am trying very hard this week to understand why it is that I delay everything and why I have such an incredible time getting myself motivated. I was instructed by my counselor to make small goals for myself each day and to write down everything I accomplish, whether it seemed like a task I had trouble doing or not. That way, I can visually see all of the things I do get done and I will (hopefully) beat myself up less over the things I don’t get done.

Beach Series #4

© 2006 Punkin Dunkin Productions

Beach Series #3

© 2006 Punkin Dunkin Productions

When I Have a Child...

I will read them this book every election year.

Evening Stroll

© 2006 Punkin Dunkin Productions

Another in the Beach Series

© 2006 Punkin Dunkin Productions