2014

I know we are a few weeks into 2014, but it is never too late to tell you about my New Years Eve, New Years resolutions, and my outlook on 2014.  

I could not have dreamt up a better way to start 2014.  Ok maybe there could have been a few slight improvements, like a New Years kiss, but seriously, my New Years Eve was practically perfect!

Elle, Hadley, my new and wonderful friend Layson, and I got all dolled up in sequins and headed to a wonderful four course meal at Lavanga.  The food was spectacular, and the company superb!  We laughed, stuffed our faces, and mocked the 60 year-old women with cleavage for days.  After our delicious meal we snuck into a private, open bar party at our favorite bar.  We made friends, got boys to buy us shots, hung out with all our favorite bartenders, and overall had an amazing time!  We could not have planned a more perfect night with friends.  Hadley kept finding boys willing to give up their party hats until we all had one.  

I want 2014 to be the year of Harper.  I plan to do things that I like, things that make me happy, and things that better me.  So, here are some promises I have made or goals I have set for myself.

- Read 52 books this year.  That is a book a week.  I spend an hour on the metro everyday, and have started reading during my lunch hour.  There is no reason why I can’t find the time to read a book a week.  

- Lose weight.  I know what you are thinking.  This is every typical woman’s resolution.  What makes this different than years before is why I want to.  I want to feel good about myself.  I don’t want to lose weight to win some boy, I want to do it to like the way I look in clothes.  I know there is nothing wrong with being a 14/16, but I would like to be able to go into any store in a mall and find something that fits me nicely.  I have started Weight Watchers, and have already lost 5lbs.   

- Spend my money on big moments instead of nights at the bar.  I would rather save up so I can have the memories of something like Taste of the South than spend all my money at my neighborhood bar doing the same thing every week.  I am too young to give up on living.

- Leave the past in the past.  I have to stop carrying around all my past heartbreak and let myself move on.  As long as I hold onto the past I will never be able to have a future.

-  Be confident in my own decisions.  I need to make decisions and not second guess them.  

- Spend time with true friends.  I want to continue to develop my friendships with the people that are always there for me.  It isn’t the quantity of friends you have, it is the quality of your friendships that matter.

- Have fun!

The year of Harper has so many other goals and objectives, but no need to bore you with them all.  I am really looking forward to what 2014 has to offer.  The best part of the New Year is the idea that you can start fresh, eliminate bad habits, learn from your mistakes - with that comes the ability to change..  So, even though this is a few weeks late, I hope you also have plans for yourself in 2014.  If not, it is never too late!   

Birthday Blues

How is it possible to love your life and be so sad at the same time?  I guess it is the birthday crisis setting in.  I am going to be a year older next week - 26.  I love my life, but then I see the lives of people with whom I grew up or went to college, and their lives seem great too.  Completely opposite, but wonderful still.  They are getting engaged, married, having babies: what I always thought I would be doing at this time in my life.  

Living in DC, I wouldn’t want to be married right now, but you step out of this bubble, and you see people all around you moving forward in life.  In DC, we move forward with our careers, but our personal lives are stuck in college.  We are all stuck in a dating cesspool, where people hook up and have “complicated things”, but it is rare to find something real and lasting.  I chose to build a life in a city where everyone postpones love to a more convenient time.

Somewhere in the last three years, I have evolved into something about which I am not sure.  I have allowed myself to morph from this Marilyn sex symbol that I was proud of to “Momma Bear”.  When did I become the sensible, put together one?  When did my life become nothing worth writing about?  I have struggled over the last several weeks to come up with something to share with all of you.  There have been no exciting stores of sexscapades or outragous nights.  There have been no new crushes or the potential of falling in love.  I have become uninteresting.  

My reality at 26 is that I have 4 different dating apps on my phone, and yet not been on a date with anyone from them.  I haven’t been in a serious relationship in a decade, haven’t had sex since Valentine’s Day, and haven’t had good sex since Stefan.  

There was a time when I was vivacious, confident, and unwavering.  When I left college I had found a comfort in myself, and in many ways it is still there, but the voices of the frat boys are creeping back in.  I hear them calling me “Bee’s Fat friend” all over again.  I was thinner back then.  I would kill to be that small again, and yet I let so many boys define me in such derogatory terms.  I let my own self worth be based on a bunch of drunk frat boys who wanted to keep me their dirty little secret.  I tried to leave that behind me, but even my relationship with D painted me as the dirty mistress.  Keeping me at arm’s length, and playing my own insecurities against me.    

One of the biggest things I can be proud of in the past year, besides getting an amazing job, is walking away from D.  Looking back on my Quarter life Crisis (my birthday last year), it was predominantly because of my relationship, or lack thereof, with him.  It was like coming up for air for the first time in a year and half.  What I didn’t realize was, that as long as I was hiding behind my feelings for D, I didn’t have to face the reality that I was become less desirable.  I am the kind of pretty that only gay men and other women appreciate.  Well dressed, hide my flaws well, hair and makeup always done.                   

As I prepare for my birthday party, I continue to worry about all the details.  My private party in the basement of my favorite Hill bar now carries the burden of being epic.  I need it to be epic.  I need the excitement.  I need to be reminded that I am not irrelevant in peoples lives.  I have decorations, a playlist, and Anna is making the cake.  My dress is picked out, I am getting my makeup done, and my crash diet is underway.  Even though I am sharing the night with Chance (against his protest), and most people are coming because of him, I want a moment to remember.  

Birthdays used to be one of my favorite things in the world.  It is the one day (or week) that the whole world has to celebrate you!  I loved getting older!  I couldn’t wait until I turned 30.  Now I see them for what they are - milestones of broken dreams.  A reminder of all the things you wanted to do but haven’t been able to.  A warning that you are getting older but you aren’t getting any smarter or (insert adjustive of your choice).  I never thought I would have the birthday blues.  

I know that Saturday will be fun, not because I need it to be, but because all the people that care about me will be there to help me celebrate.  I will be surrounded by love and lots and lots of shots.  Yes, I might not be the sexpot that I used to be, but I’m not 22 anymore either.  And that is ok.  It is ok to age gracefully, and to do a little growing up along the way.   

   

Caring: How to Stop

We spend so much of our lives worrying about what other people think.  I know I make myself physically sick sometimes worrying how other people perceive me, or thinking that I did something unpleasing to those I care about.  I worry about what the world thinks; I worry about rejection, sometimes so much so that the anxiety is overwhelming.  

I worry when my hair is not in place, and I don’t leave the house without makeup on.  I squeeze into Spanx everyday to make my curvaceous figure more appealing.  I worry that the number of men I have slept with is too high, and I also worry that no one will ever want to sleep with me again.  I worry that every time a boy kisses me, I am going to be added to his list of mistakes - the fat girl who he is ashamed he hooked up with.   

I worry about hurting my loved ones’ feelings, or being unable to please them.  I am a people-pleaser, so when someone rejects me, I look at it like I am unpleasing, I didn’t do what I am supposed to do.  As a Southern woman I feel that it is my job to make everyone feel welcomed, comfortable, and happy.  I want to be well-liked.  Not really out of ego, but out of anxiety.

Part of me has started to realize that I can’t please everyone.  I am human, and I make mistakes.  In trying to please the world, I have forgotten to please myself.  I am not saying I won’t take responsibility for my actions; I will apologize when I misbehave.  I just can not dwell on things I can’t change after an apology has been made.    

There is this movie that Anna and I are obsessed with caled “Bachelorette”.  (Spoilers to follow, kind of) It is a dark comedy starring Kirsten Dunst, Rebel Wilson, Isla Fisher, and Lizzy Caplan.  I have found my current life motto from this film.  If you know anything about the movie you might be like, “Really?”  Once you get past the cocaine, strippers, and outwardly fucked-up friendships/relationships, there is something deeper.  Really, it is the friendship between Kirsten Dunst’s character Regan and Rebel Wilson’s character Becky that brings about my new motto.  

At first, you think that Regan hates Becky, and you don’t realize why she is her maid of honor.  Becky (Rebel Wilson) is a heavier woman, and she is getting married to a smoking hot man.  It is obvious that Regan tries to be perfect, and her attempts come off as a cold hearted bitch, or maybe she is a cold hearted bitch.  She feels like she is the one who should be getting married, for several reasons that are not relevant here.  Then there is this moment when Becky catches Regan trying to purge because of stress, and you realize Becky and Regan share something much deeper.  They have a history.  In high school, Becky covered up for Regan’s bulimia and got upset when people spread rumors that it was her who was bulimic.  Regan had told her to “Fuck Everyone” and that was what Becky was telling her to do now.      

Right before Becky is about to walk down the aisle, she freaks out and says she can’t go through with it.  She looks at Regan and says, “Everyone thinks I am too fat to marry him.”  Regan grabs her by the shoulders, looked her dead in the eyes, and says “Fuck Everyone!”  

That’s it.  That is the key to finding my comfort and happiness - Fuck everyone!  Fuck the stupid jackass who, after weeks of flirting with me, told me he didn’t find me physically attractive.  Fuck the people at the state society picnic who looked at me like a leopard because I have put on 20 pounds since college.  Fuck D and the cloud of darkness he brought to my life for a year and a half.  Fuck the supposed friends who have alienated me, leaving me to feel unwanted and inadequate.  I have struggled with when to stop fighting to keep them and when to walk away.  Now is that time.  Too many people do want me in this world to focus on the ones who don’t.  Fuck the people who have or will ever call me fat.  I have spent too much time caring what the world thinks.  Too much time letting everyones’ opinions of me dictate who I am going to be.  Now is the time to worry about me - my wants, my needs, and what makes me happy!  Because I deserve to be happy.  I have not always thought that I did, but I know now I really do.                    

What Does Forever Look Like?

The thing about moving on, truly moving on, the- “I don’t give a shit about you anymore” and meaning it-moving on, is realizing that their face is not going to be the one you will spend the rest of your life with.  All the thoughts, plans, and dreams you had about your lives together are irrelevant.  You have to start over, and this leaves me with so many questions.   

What will my forever look like? Will he be tall and broad, or my height, standing eye to eye? Will his eyes be kind or sultry, brown or blue?  Will he be a bookworm or a jock? Will his hair be short or something I can run my fingers through? Where will we meet? Maybe I already know him. Will our first kiss be sweet and tender or drunk and sloppy? Will we be the kind of couple who holds hands just so we can be touching or the kind who keep our hands to ourselves in public?  Will we fight just to be able to make up? Whose place will we stay more, his or mine? Will we be a couple that loves to hit the town or the kind that likes quiet nights at home?

I also have so many hopes for what he, what we, will be like.  I hope he touches my face when he kisses me. I hope he thinks I look equally as beautiful in a t shirt or all dolled up. I hope he will be adventurous with me both in and out of the bedroom. I hope he will challenge me to be the best version of myself.  I hope he will stand up for me when I need it, but know when I have my battles under control. I hope we can trust each other, and I mean real, unconditional trust. I hope we are supportive of each other, both our careers and our dreams.  I hope he won't mind if I write about him, us, my thoughts on it all.  I hope he gets along with my brother, and understands with me, you also get my family.  I hope that we become friends with each other's friends, but most importantly be each other's best friend.  

I want all the stages in between where I am now and consuming love.  I want the sparkling eye contact when you first meet.  The giddy feeling when he texts you for the first time.  I want the first date jitters and the heat of a truly great first kiss.  You know, the kind of kiss that makes you weak in the knees, that makes you need to stabilize yourself on whatever is available, but mainly just hold on to him, never wanting to let go.  I want one of those kisses that is so great that years later you still think back on that particular kiss, that moment that you lost yourself in someone else.  I want the butterflies, my heart beating too fast feeling the first time he calls you his girlfriend, and the all consuming relief and joy the first time he says, “I love you.”  

I have questions, hopes, and wants for my life and the person I someday choose to share it with.  There is no way of knowing when or where we will meet, but maybe that is the fun part.  I sometimes become so cynical and jaded when it comes to love, but at heart, I am a hopeless romantic.  I do believe there is someone out there for me, someone wonderful who isn’t going to make me jump through hoops to be with them.  

I may question how it is all going to play out and hope for a lot of things, but there are some things I know without a doubt.  The person that I will spend forever with will be kind, understanding, and brave.  He won’t run away from love, or hide from possibility.  He will never make me feel inadequate.  I know my forever will be better than my past.  

Skinny Day

As a perpetually chubby girl, my life is separated into two kinds of days - skinny days and everything else.  A skinny day is the type of day when you wake up and your skirt is looser, you have less backfat in your top, or you just feel more overall comfortable and confident in both your clothes and body.  A skinny day is a day that you actually like seeing your reflection in every mirror that you come across.   Last week I had a wonderful skinny day!  I tried on a skirt that had been a little too tight, and lo and behold, it fit just right.  My waist looked tiny, and even my boss told me I looked very nice.  

Anything can happen on a skinny day! When you feel good, then good things happen to you.  It is the kind of day when you say hello to the cute guy on the metro, or have a stranger buy you a drink.  It’s the kind of day when you make a new friend, kick ass at work, or have a hotty with potential ask for your number.  Life is full of infinite possibilities on a skinny day!    

My parents texted me, and told me, if my boss would let me off work,they would fly me home for Easter, no matter the cost.  My boss approved the time off, and I booked a flight home.  There are times when I miss the South, and most importantly, I miss my family.  My two nieces are growing up too fast.  I miss the familiar one-way streets of my small town, and the people I have known all my life.  Don’t get me wrong, I love DC and all that it has to offer.  I will never move back to my small hometown on the Mississippi River.  As charming and nostalgic as it may be to visit, I have grown beyond what it has to offer as a permanent home.  All the same, I am excited to be there for Easter, and that excitement helped build on an already wonderful skinny day.

My skinny day good fortune did not end there.  In my pursuit for everyday to be a skinny day, I went to Zumba with Lisa.  Lisa turned in her guest pass for a full-fledged membership to the gym, meaning I now have a permanent work out buddy!  My good fortune continuing, I got a $50 dues credit for referring her.  After our kick ass Zumba class, we went to the front desk so Lisa could arrange her free personal trainer session that came with her membership.  The trainer must be in need of clients, because he offered me a free session as well! You have got to love free things!  

A skinny day is the best kind of day.  For me, skinny days seem to be few and far between lately.  I am working to change that though.  Even though my body is nowhere near where I want it, I feel better about myself because I am going to the gym and trying.  Maybe I will never be as small as I was sophomore year of college ever again.  However, that doesn’t mean I can’t look beautiful, healthy, and even a little bit sexy.  

As y’all start your weeks, I wish you lots of skinny days full of confidence and possibility!  

Netflix Relationship

I think I might be in a relationship with my Netflix account.  It is easier to sit on my couch watching rom-coms, TV dramas, and sci-fi adventures than putting myself out there.  I know I will never meet anyone new this way, but I will also not be able to get hurt.  Watching these shows where the love triangle works out for the protagonist gives false illusions that one day I will get to be with the person I really want.  On all of these shows, the characters make grand proclamations of love or loathing.  These characters give ultimatums, and the people in their TV world actually make a choice.  

I have become attached to my green quilted blanket and the controller to my Playstation 3 because that is better than being attached to the dream that someone in my life who walked away will decide to come back.  It is better than pinning over the gorgeous guy that works down the hall who is not just out of my league, but is playing a completely different sport.  I am rebounding from my rebound with the likes of Pacey Witter on Dawson’s Creek, Chuck Bass on Gossip Girl, and George Tucker on Hart of Dixie.  

I wish I could say that Stefan broke up with me, but the truth is, I just haven’t heard from him in weeks.  When Hurricane Sandy hit he didn’t even check to see if I was okay.  I have friends in different parts of the country that checked on me, but the guy that I have been sharing a bed with for 2 months didn’t even ask if I was okay.  So, instead of going to the bar and meeting some guy who is going to find me forgettable, I have opted to love the men of television, past and present.

Just knowing that someone could dream up a man like Pacey Witter, a loyal man with a heart of gold who will fight for the woman he loves, gives me hope that there may be someone like him in the world.  The idea of a man that dresses like Chuck Bass, and well, frankly loves so deeply that it wrecks him, makes me long for the scheming that it would take to keep him.  Finding a true southern gentleman, like George Tucker, who tries his best to do the honorable thing even if it isn’t easy.  George Tucker walked away from his childhood sweetheart Lemon, because he realized part of his heart belonged to someone else, and that was not fair to Lemon.  

As I lose myself in the television world, I hope to find something that I can’t in my own world.  I am not sure if it is peace of mind or of heart, but I am not sure I am finding it.  Having a relationship with my Netflix account is really me just hiding.  I need to find the courage to start living my life again.  One of the things I have always loved most about myself is the strength to continue to put myself out there no matter how many times I have been hurt by people.  I feel that strength slipping away from me.  I don’t know if I, if my heart, can handle being hurt again.  The next time may be the one that truly breaks me.  So, for now, I will stick to my couch and my Netflix account.  
 
 

Writer's Block

The last few weeks I have been trying to find something to inspire me to write.  I think, more than being uninspired, I have been fighting a war between my head and my heart.  I can’t decide if we spend most of life trying to let our head catch up with our heart, or the other way around.  I think it depends on the circumstance.  My constant battle is that my head and heart are never on the same page.  It makes it very hard to find happiness when you over think everything new, and your heart won’t let go of the ghosts of loves past.  I let my lost loves and tragic mistakes haunt me.  I am so terrified of making the same mistakes over again that I twist myself into something unrecognizable, a lackluster version of myself at times.   

Some days, I wake up, and I know exactly who I am, while on others, I still feel like a lost girl chasing fairy tales.  I find solace in putting together a stylish outfit, having a glass of wine, or watching a terrible, soapy television show.  More than anything, I find my true peace writing this blog.  There is something about baring one’s soul to a group of friends and a bunch of complete strangers.  Nothing makes me feel more empowered than putting my digits to keys and ending up with something that I am proud to share.  It took me a very long time before I showed my writing to anyone.  I was petrified of being told I was wasting my time, that what I write is not worth the space it occupies.  That is not one of my worries anymore.  I believe in my writing, even if it is only being read by my best friends.  We should share the things that make us happy.  This is what makes writer’s block such a plague.  

Even though I tend to write about matters of the heart, I don’t know how to write about my struggle now.  Everyday I go back and forth between being smitten and indifference.  My heart wants to open itself up to Stefan but my head stops me.  I don’t know if I can handle another heartbreak.  Besides, I don’t really know if we are on that track.  That may be my fault.  I don’t want to ruin whatever we are, so I don’t ask, “What we are doing?”  I don’t text him, even when I really want to; I don’t want to appear clingy.  I just enjoy the time we do spend together.  When he is here, when he kisses me hello, it is like all my worries fall away.  

I don’t know what to feel because I don’t want to have unrealistic expectations.  I don’t know what to write, because I don’t want to put on paper my foolish dreams of potential happiness.  The plans I wish I had the courage to make with Stefan just make me that silly girl again.  Is it better to be sensible or should we believe in fairy tales?  

    

The Answer is in Someone New

Nothing makes you feel more confident than a really good-looking man wanting to see you naked.  Well, maybe when the sight of you undressed leaves this man wanting more. The feeling when you wake up in the arms of someone that just seems too perfect to be real is like a high.  Nothing brings you out of the shadows of heartbreak like the euphoria of a budding romance.  

Three weeks ago, I told someone that I was glad I didn’t feel anything when I kissed all the boys that were crossing my path.  I was in a post heartbreak spiral.  If the boy was cute and wanted to kiss me, I was game.  I was trying to put distance between the memory of kissing D and my present.  I thought I needed to to feel nothing for anyone else until D was out of my head.  I was on a boy bender.  I went out on Wednesday and kissed a boy in front of Union Station.  I went out on Thursday and kissed a boy outside the bar.  Went out on Saturday for Chloe’s birthday, kissed a boy and got swept away.  

When I am in a spiral, I have a cute boy radar like none other.  When Stefan walked in the room, it was like sirens went off in my head.  Being Chloe’s birthday, I went back to dancing with the girls and tried to forget about the gorgeous guy who was lingering nearby in the small basement bar.  I caught him watching me on the dance floor.  There was no ignoring the Vineyard Vines clothed, green-eyed man with Chuck Bass hair.  Who talked to whom first is still a little hazy, but his dance moves were amazing.  He twirled me all over the floor before he went in for the kiss.  I was the girl making out in the bar and I didn’t care.  Don’t worry, we talked too, but mainly we just kissed, alot.  

There comes a point in these situations when what’s happening next is inevitable.  When other people are thinking, “Get a room!”, maybe you should!  That is what led me to say, “You want to get out of here?”. I forgot what it was like to feel so wanted, to feel like they are just drinking you in.  Having someone who can’t stop kissing you long enough to find a cab is exhilarating.  

After entangling ourselves in my sheets for quite a while, Stefan and I stayed up talking until the wee hours.  My Sunday morning was a mixture of knocking boots and pillow talk.  When Stefan left the next afternoon, I didn’t know if I would ever hear from him again.  I decided to cross my fingers but not hold my breath.  When he texted me hours later, I thought my heart might explode from surprise and excitement!  

He made his way into the city the next Wednesday to see me before I left for a cruise to Bermuda with Chloe and Vivian.  I had forgot how it felt to flirt without guilt, to be excited without consequence, and to feel like everything is full of possibility not doom.  

Chloe, Vivian, and I had a blast on the cruise!  There were late nights at the disco, post-bar hot tubbing, and a some racy games of Truth or Dare and Never Have I Ever.  I kissed a guy under the stars, pool-side. It was sweet. The problem was he wasn’t Stefan.  I didn’t enjoy talking to him, I didn’t want him to hold my hand, and I absolutely did not want to sleep with him.  

So, it is official.  I am crushing on someone new.  All signs seem to point to good on the Stefan front.  I am hopeful that things last at least a little bit longer.  I am not expecting the great love of my life; I just want to enjoy whatever this is while it lasts.  The giddy feeling I get when he texts me makes my heart pound.  I day dream about his fingers gently running down my bare back. I fall asleep thinking about doing so in his arms, and how much better I sleep when he is there.  

I don’t really think about D very much anymore.  There was a time when he consumed me.  Now it is more like an occasional thing out of habit.  I know it has helped not seeing him for a month, but now I am more worried about the first time I do see him.  I think I am just going to rip off the Band-Aid and go to that weekly social gathering.  Besides I have someone else that likes to see me naked. 

The Season of the DC Skin-tern

We are smack-dab in the middle of the worst time for dating in DC: Summer (or let me be more clear, Summer Intern season).  The Summer Intern (I should be more specific, the skin-tern) in DC is the young career man’s weakness. Every young single career woman in this city is well aware for the trouble that the dreaded skin-tern will bring to their love life.  You see them walking down the halls and see how the men (if you can call them that) look at these scantily clad co-eds bounce around.  If life is truly awful for you, you may even have one in your office.  If you are their supervisor, then you have the task of telling them that they need to dress more appropriately or that flirting with male staffers is unacceptable.  

I guess I see why the men of DC fall for the elusive skin-tern.  I do not agree with it, but I can see the appeal.  In a conservatively dressed city, these girls bring some sex into the office.  It doesn’t matter if the sex shouldn’t be there, or if these girls are barely old enough to have a cocktail (and some are not).  Skin-terns play dumb, even if they aren’t.  There are no intellectual conversations or philosophical debates going on.  Conversations are filled with talks of parties, the craziest things they have ever done, and anything else that make horny guys foam at the mouth.  Then there is the real kicker: they are only here for two months.  It's not enough time to get serious and you have a guaranteed out at the end of the summer.  They will return to school and the rest of DC will return to our regular dating patterns.  

Skin-terns just get on my last nerve.  I want a light-hearted summer romance too.  I want to have faith that the men I surround myself with aren’t fooled by a short skirt, low neckline, and fake giggle.  Unfortunately, every summer without fail, one of the good ones falls prey to the skin-tern.  It’s either one of my guy friends or my current crush, which stings worse than a jellyfish at the beach on the 4th of July.  They are Lindsay Lohans  and I am Marylin meets Jackie.  I am put together, poised, and sexy in a subtle “why wouldn’t you want me” kind of way.  These girls think you have to show it all to get attention, and yes it works, but then they are just a story without a name.  

These so called gentleman tell their friends they are calling their skin-tern, not whatever that girl’s name might be.  It’s then, when I overhear such stories and comments, that I feel a tiny bit of pity for the skin-tern.  No one falls in love with a skin-tern.  It’s not like anyone is falling in love with me either, but I, unlike the skin-tern, do not mistake lust for love.  I do not mistake a summer fling for the perfect romance with a staffer.  The pity fades quickly when I realize that it is the way these Jersey Shore want-to-bes carry themselves that puts them in that position in the first place.    

I do want to be clear about one thing.  Not every female intern is a skin-tern.  There are plenty of well dressed, ambitious, well-behaved interns that come to DC every summer as well. But every time I see some seemingly great guy flirt with a skin-tern over a classy, intelligent, age-appropriate staffer, I pray for summer to be over.   I pray for the day that I and all single career women of DC raise our cocktails and cheers to the the end of the summer skin-tern, at least until next year. 

Maybe ...

How do I find myself confused and caught up with Him, that boy I can’t shake.  Let’s call him D.  

He hugged me last night.  He initiated it.  I can’t remember the last time he touched me.  I think it was the night we danced, the night I pushed him away, the night I sent him home to call his girlfriend.  I didn’t lean into the hug.  I didn’t press my body against his the way I would with a boy I am flirting with.  It wasn’t tender.  It was if we were both scared to touch one another, like the world would end if we got too close.  

He really does care about me.  That was obvious last night, and it was as though he wanted me to know that.  I had already noticed that he always wants to make sure I get home safe.  One time he even gave money to a friend to put me in a cab.  I didn’t know it was him behind it, and his friend took the credit.  I’m unsure why, but it seems to change things.  I no longer second guess that he cares; I just am baffled by what it means.  

When he offered to drive me home this time, I didn’t see the harm.  Conversation was flowing and I didn’t want it to end.  I never know how long we will be on good terms, and am always frightened that he will shut me out.  He remembered where I lived even though he had only been there twice, and hadn’t since before Christmas.  Maybe I am seeing something where there is nothing.  Maybe none of it means a thing.  He let me know he made it home safe like I asked, but now I have his number again.  I don’t know if I am ready for that responsibility, that temptation. Too late.  If I delete it again, I know he will be hurt.  He was hurt the first time.  Here's hoping that the “Do Not Drunk Text” before his name in my phone will help this time.  

I wish I could say our conversation ended with him letting me know he was home, but it didn’t.  We were very sarcastic and it made me laugh.  I accidentally sent him a message meant for Skylar, a pep talk about not settling and holding out for the spark.  I was telling her she is an amazing woman.  I immediately realized my mistake and apologized, but that started the convo back up again.  He said that pep talks are always welcome.  I told him that I would have given him a different one.  He said a different quote might be better, but he isn’t picky.  So I gave it a shot: You are a kind person, you are smart, you are hard working, and you deserve all the good life will bring you.  

This is where it gets interesting …

D: That is better for you than me!
Me: I don’t know.  I think it fits you pretty well. You don’t have to be as kind as you are to me.  I don’t always make it easy on you and I know that.  I am sorry for that.
D: Yes I do … I was an ass a while back … You don’t need to apologize.
Me: People make mistakes.  It is what it is.
D: You are kind to say that.
Me: You aren’t a jerk, you are a good guy.  She is a very lucky girl to have someone like you.  I really mean that.  

That was it.  

Maybe I was his mistake, but I don’t think that the mistake was getting to know me, it was kissing me.  Maybe he is just trying to make up for his indiscretions. Maybe the way he cares about me is wrong.  But is it?  Can’t you care about the well being of someone of the opposite sex without wanted to get in their pants? Maybe it is different because we have been physical before.  Maybe it is different because I still look at him and long for his touch.  Maybe you can never recover from circumstances like the ones that we got to know each other under.  Maybe, just maybe, we are not supposed to be a part of each others lives.  

Weddings Can Leave You Torn

This weekend I had a wonderful time celebrating my dear friends, Farah and Paul, start their life together as a married couple.  It was great to be with old friends.  It was just like we had never left each other.  We have so many stories and so much history together.  We still make each other laugh and know how we will react to things.  I don’t know why I am surprised.  Farah, May, and I were like the 3 Musketeers in college.  They’ll all soon be in Texas, and it was easy to see the life I could have there.  Even May and her boyfriend Nathan are going to end up in Texas.  I know we would have amazing lives: raise our kids together, have our very own supper club.  Its a life with a clear path.  The weekend was confusing. Not just because the comfortable life presented before me, but, of course, I met a boy.

Farah decided that she did not want me to be the only bridesmaid without a date.  She commissioned one of the groomsmen to take care of me all weekend - especially the day of the wedding.  Pennington (Penn)  is so handsome.  It broke my heart when I realized that he is only 20.  His tall, slender body is topped with a luscious head of dark locks.  I can’t decide if it is his smile or his green eyes that captivate me more.  I feel wrong for even finding him attractive because he is so young.  I try to not let myself look at him for too long.  Its hard when I catch him looking at me though.  Then he does sweet things, like pull my chair out for me and refresh my cocktail.  There are boys that really act this way?  That really have manners?

Farah keeps encouraging me, telling me to forget his age and just focus on having fun.  During the wedding ceremony I catch him looking at me from across the church.  He caught me crying while the vows were being said.  I blushed.  When we get to the reception, Penn finds me and tells me he is at my disposal for the rest of the evening. I tried to tell him that he doesn’t have to feel like he is stuck with me, but he insists that it is his pleasure.  All night he does whatever I want to do.  We eat when I get hungry; we dance when I feel the urge, and he always makes sure I have a cocktail in my hand.  He even drinks whatever I am drinking.  This boy must like me if he will drink a vodka tonic with a splash of cranberry (my signature cocktail).  

I can’t remember ever feeling so taken care of and so at ease with any man.  Penn makes me laugh, and when the Grey Goose sets in all, I want to do is brush my hand across his cheek gently.  I want to touch him and then curl into his arms.  I resist.  As the reception ends, and the party moves back to Farah’s parents’ house, I try to stay away.  Then I realize I can’t, or maybe I just don’t want to.  Things get hazy; despite my diligent effort my hard plastic drink stirrer will not function as a straw.  I get frustrated and May can’t stop laughing.  It’s time to go back to my hotel.  

I wonder if Penn can come with me, or if he would even want to.  I invite him, but he doesn’t give me an answer.  He chauffeurs a group of us back to the hotel, some of whom are far drunker than me.  Making sure everyone gets to their rooms, he parks the car, and walks me to my room.  Luckily, I’m the only one in the group on my floor. He comes in.  Who kissed who first is unclear, but the fact is neither were protesting.  After a while, Penn pulls away.  He has to go back for another car of people.  I don’t want him to leave, but he swears he will come back.  I wait for a while and conclude he won’t be back.  It is 4:00 in the morning when I hear his knock at the door, right when I was giving up.  

I let him in.  He begins to remove the layers of his tux.  I tell him I need to unpin my hair, and he asks if I need help.  I say no.  As I am standing in the mirror of the bathroom, Penn comes up behind me and starts to help pull the pins out of my hair.  I didn’t know something could be so endearing and sexy at the same time.  Where did this boy come from?  Why are there not more like him?  We spend what is left of the night together.  When the alarm goes off after a few short hours, I didn’t want him to stop holding me, nor did he want to leave me.  He kisses me before he walks out the door.  I know I will see him at brunch, but I also know that there will be no affection in front of Farah’s parents.  

We spent the day sitting at Farah’s drinking fancy champagne and watching TV.  I could feel the tension run through me, my deep urge to touch him.  Everyone wanted to come along to take me to the airport, so we caravan.  For the duration of the ride, I kept thinking how I wanted to kiss Penn goodbye.  I concluded that it was the bubbly talking.  Penn gave me a big hug, and in my ear, told me he had so much fun being my date.  I told him it was amazing and thank you.  I hugged Fara and May multiple times.  I hate goodbyes.    

As the plane landed at Reagan, and the Washington Monument came into sight, I knew it was back to reality.  I love my life and friends here.  I love the city, my apartment, our routine.  I see a different future for all of us.  Living in the city until I am ready to start a family and settle down.  Then, who knows?  Move some place close to where Chloe and the rest of the girls decide to settle down?  This life is full of mystery and without a clear path for the future.  I wish I could have both lives.  This one in DC and the one I could have in Texas.  No matter where I am, I miss someone.  Why is this so hard?  

On top of that, I spent the weekend with a boy, a 20 year-old boy.  That boy made me feel more beautiful, cared for, and alive than any other man I’ve met.  The respect with which he looked at me with is something I’ve not seen in any other man’s gaze.  I don’t know what that is supposed to mean, but somehow, I feel like it changes everything.  I just got a glimpse of what it is like to be treated like a lady.  I don’t know if I can settle for less now.  

Diet Frustration

I am always on some sort of diet, or trying to be at least.  I am currently on week 3 of a hard core diet/ workout program. Well, intense for me at least.  I have been working out 3 to 4 times a week.  I am even getting up at 6am to work out before work.  I lost 2lbs after week one and was so excited.  This morning was my weigh-in day.  I was all excited for my number to be lower yet again.  But guess what … I GAINED 2 lbs.  Betsy and Chloe say it is probably muscle because I am working out.  I know muscle is supposed to be good, but I don’t want to GAIN anything.  I want to weigh less!!  I want to, for the first time in a long time, not weigh more than what ever boy I have a crush on!  


This is why I end up giving up on diet and exercise.  I get frustrated that I am doing the right things, and it still doesn’t move the scale.  Then I give up and find myself chubbier than ever.  I just want to yell at Debbie (the fitness instructor on my workout videos) and tell her all her puns about shrinking are lies!  I bet Debbie had lipo when she got her boob job.  And yes she had a boob job from the first video she made to the second!  Come on, Deb, people notice that kind of thing!  


As I watch skinny girls buy their chicken tenders, I marvel at their metabolism.  I’m not giving up on my diet (this time). I’ll eat my salad, my boring, lackluster, salad.  I will get skinny!  I am not trying to pretend that I can get my Size 16 ass into a Size 2.  I just want to be my version of thin.  I don’t want to lose my curves; I just want to improve them.  So, even if I am pissed that I GAINED weight, ok, I will pretend it is muscle. I will wake up tomorrow and work out with Debbie.  I may yell at her when she tells me we are almost there, and there are really 16 reps left, but I will do those 16 reps anyway.  


It’s not about getting skinny for anybody but me.  I want to feel good about shopping and not be limited by size.  So operation #BodyBackIn2012, or #GetABodyIn2012 is underway.  Lets kick this Diet’s ASS!

Introducing the Power Players

I realize that I should probably introduce all of you to the lovely ladies that are constants in my life and will make regular appearances in the blog.  So here is the cheat sheet to my friends.  The Power Players, if you will.

Chloe: Chloe is my sounding board and my voice of reason.  She is a witty midwestern girl who is very proud of her Chicago roots.  I often forget that she is a little older than me because we just understand each other.  She is my person.  You know that person that you would call in any situation, and no matter what, you know you can count on them.  She can rock a shift dress and for a Yankee, her hair teasing skills are amazing.  

Vivian: Vivian, Vivi for short, is my sassy fashion-forward friend.  If you want to know anything about any celebrity, I bet Vivi knows it.  She has the gift to make me laugh unlike anyone else.  She is quite the performer when she rocks the mic at karaoke.  She is out of town for business for the next few months, and I feel like a piece of me is missing!

Mary: Mary is our non-Jersey Jersey girl.  She has an infectious laugh that I could pick out of any crowd.  The boys love Mary and her chill, laid-back attitude.  She is the kind of pretty that takes no effort.  I envy her confidence and relaxed approach at life.  

Betsy: Betsy is my wonderful roommate.  She is another Midwestern girl and my sorority sister (different schools).  Her big hair bows and love for odd foreign films make her a true hipster.  She is truly beautiful inside and out, but sometimes I wish she could see herself the way I see her.  Strong and full of faith, I find myself inspired by her.   

Claire: Claire is my West-Coast mystery wrapped in an enigma.  She is an old soul even though she is the youngest.  I think she is just starting to come into her own and figuring out what it means to be Claire.  One thing I do know, Claire has a kind, warm heart.

Skyler: Skyler is yet another Chicago girl.  She is sporty yet girly.  If you see Skyler, you are bound to get one of her famous hugs.  She is so open to people and what they have to bring to her life.  

Tori: Tori is a straight shooter.  She doesn’t play games.  She likes what she likes and doesn't apologize for it.  Maybe that is how she found herself a part of one of the best couples I have ever met.  She and Peter have a level of trust that you don’t see in many relationships.  Because they have trust, they can just enjoy each other and their friends.  

These are not all of the fabulous people that bless my life in DC with fun and friendship.  I am lucky to have a large group of amazing people that make up my world here, too many to fit in one post.