A Slap in the Face; Or, The Time I Cried on Christmas

For Christmas, my mother bought me a beautiful black suit with a snakeskin-esque pattern that could very easily transition from work to play. Size 16.

It didn't fit.

Then she gave me a backup gift, a gorgeous black and white tweed suit, size 16.

It didn't fit.

Two years ago, I celebrated Christmas as a size 12, approximately 187 pounds.

Yesterday I celebrated Christmas as (maybe? barely?) a size 16, exactly 236 pounds.

So I cried.

I thought I had it figured out, but no. The cycle continues.

Epiphany.

I spend too much a lot of time talking about my relationship woes on this here blog.
But driving home today, I had a God honest epiphany about that facet of my life.

God was protecting me.

(FYI, there's no joke coming. This is not a post full of the funnies.)

I try to be very honest with you all here, but there are some parts of my life, my past, that I will never share here. Parts that I have never shared with anyone. 

But I will say this-- I made some poor decisions in my young adult life. Decisions that could have had disastrous results for my health, safety, and emotional well-being. And truthfully, I continued making variations of those poor decisions up until the end of my last "relationship"-- less dangerous to my physical safety, but just as detrimental to my emotional security. 

I've been honest here that, for a myriad of reasons (chief of which is my extreme distaste for getting up and out the house before noon on a Sunday, but y'all already knew I was lazy) I'm not a regular church-goer. But that does not negate the fact that I fully believe in God, talk to God daily, and pray about what's going on in my life. So it's odd that it took me so long to see what was directly in front of my face-- I wasn't in a relationship because I wasn't READY to be in a relationship.

And I don't mean "ready" in the way women talk about being ready. *cue India.Arie* I don't mean I wasn't ready because I was having fun dating and hanging out and didn't want to commit.

I mean I wasn't ready in that I was self-destructive. I accepted anything, justified being treated poorly.... I had on blinders. I made poor decisions. I was so caught up in my crazy that even my daydreams about relationships inevitably featured a traumatic breakup followed by an epic reunion. That was my idea of what love meant.

To be blunt, I was ripe for an abusive relationship.

Thank GOD, that was never the case. I wasn't always treated well (who is?), but I was never harmed physically, emotionally, or mentally. And for that, I thank God everyday.

So when I say God protected me, I mean he literally protected me. From stupid, painful, dangerous decisions. I could have learned through trial by fire, but God is a merciful God and saved me from my own fool self. Instead, he took me totally out of the way of harm. I didn't understand it before, but oh boy it hit me like a stack of bricks today.

I am not an ugly woman. I dress fairly nicely, I smile freely, and my hair looks kinda cool the majority of the time. But in the past 4.5 years, I've not been approached once on the street, or at Target, or at the bookstore. I didn't understand how that was possible. There are women out here looking like who shot Dracula, why, and what for, and please don't do it again -- and I'm dateless???

I realize now I had to be fully removed from that situation to heal. It was not something I did intentionally. It wasn't even something I realized was happening. But... things are different now. It's hard to explain, but I'm different at the core. So, thank you God. You protected me when I didn't even realize I needed protection.

S.

The More Things Change...

The fatter I get.

You totally weren't expecting that, were you? I'm sneaky like that.

So, I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but my body basically hates me. And by hates I mean in purely superficial ways like OMG I KEEP GAINING WEIGHT WHAT THE FUCK AND MY FACE LOOKS SHITTY AND MY HAIR WON'T GROW AND NO ONE IS EVER GOING TO LOVE ME AND I'M GONNA DIE ALONE.

In a nutshell.

How sick does it make me that I legitimately fantasize about having a diagnosable disease to justify my weight gain and/or getting punched in the face so hard I have to have my jaw wired shut so I'm forced to lose weight? Really, on a scale of 1-10, is that more or less than a 9? I'm thinking 8.2 (I mean, it's not like I'm considering actually not eating 'cause... cake) but I'm biased. Whatevs.

In other news, my job still employs me, so that's cool. I'm also still single, but also still child, STD, and stalker free, so win.

Also, I'm writing a book.

Well, ok, I'm going to write a book. I haven't actually started, but I have the idea. Kinda. Actually...

Look, I'm gonna write a book, ok? Ok. Think Bridget Jones' Diary + shit that applies to Black people. And in this book Black is gonna be capitalized all the fucking time because mine.

I hope you guys will read it. Or at least don't and say you did.

Peace out, homie.
S.

On Being A Lions Fan.

Shit's frustrating.

The end.

On Online Dating

Surprise!

I was not swept out to sea by Sandy, nor was I committed to the looney bin due to constant exposure to political commercials (#MyPresidentIsSTILLBlackAndNotALiarAndNotAJerkAndComesByHisTannedSkinNaturally). Nope, I've just been lazy working and didn't have shit to write about felt my time would be better spent trying not to get fired. Which I've succeeded at so far, so yay me!

But that's not why we're here today. Nay, we are here to discuss *drum roll pleeeeeeeeease* ONLINE DATING. I now have pointed observations on the subject due to my extensive (read: not quite one full month) foray into the area.

Yes, you read that correctly. Me. Online dating. Correct.

Here's the thing: I spend a lot of time bemoaning my love life. Which is kinda annoying. And sad. But mostly annoying. So I figure, I really can't justify complaining if I'm not actually doing anything to change the situation. And yes, I know all many of you have gently suggested variations of the same for many moons, but I really must reiterate the fact that at my core I'm a 643 pound woman who hasn't left her bed in 6 months and is on first name basis with every pizza/chinese/mexican/italian delivery boy in a thirty mile radius. What I'm saying is, girlfriend is lazy. So taking the time to make affirmative moves required way more effort than I was willing to expend. But I did, and it was good.

Kinda.

Good in that it's definitely making me put some effort into moisturizing my situation (!!!), but bad because oh good Lord. Without further ado, things important notes from my experience online dating:

1. Spelling and grammar are important. Indeed, they are paramount. When the first impression someone has of you are the words you write, it would probably be best if your opening sentence did not in any way resemble the following- "hi. Im a reel kool guy, jus loking four a nice yung ladie who under stands me. Ands a freeek!!"
2. You should probably not make your interest in sex the main highlight of your profile- "I love sex, and I'm real good at it. I'm real freaky so I hope you are too. As long as it's not the 3rd Saturday of the month, I'll have your ass bouncing off the walls (I've got my kids that day).
3. (Black) People really have kids hardcore by my age. I thought that might have been an urban myth, but I'm pretty sure online dating just burst me out the middle-class, college-educated bubble. Oops.
4. If you have 5 pictures, and all 5 of the pictures have other people in them, you're trying to hide your ugly. No exceptions.
5. Pictures all from the waist up? You're short. All from the chest up? You're fat. All camera phone selfies? Friendless. Undisputed. 
6. Job: "I'll tell you later" = unemployed; Education: "I'll tell you later" = high school dropout; Children: "I'll tell you later" = 4 kids, all aged 3.

I hope the preceding was useful. Now, excuse me while I go pay to do the type of internet flirting I could do for free on Black Twitter.

S.

Truth Time

I've gained back approximately 20 of the pounds I lost in 2011 since I started work.

I'm having skin issues for the first time in my life and my face looks like crap.

Lonely.

Tired of hearing myself say I'm lonely, tired of typing it out here, tired of worrying about it.

I live vicariously through romance novels.

I don't have a fair pair of jeans.

I don't have any outfit I can put on that makes me feel gorgeous.

I sit at home most weekend nights.

My mother is my most constant companion.

I feel like everyone is progressing in their lives except for me.

I miss DC.

I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.

I hate that no matter how much I work out, if I don't eat perfectly I gain weight.

I hate that I already know I'll have to work out and eat blandly for the rest of my life or else I'll blow up like a balloon.

I wish I were funnier.

I do not know how to flirt.

I am sick of hearing myself whine.

I'm always surprised when my superiors tell em they think I'm good at my job.

I'm still waiting to go on a great adventure.

My mother unexpectedly cleaned my bedroom for me and she found absolutely nothing dirty, awkward, naughty, or scandalous. I don't know whether to be proud or ashamed.

My crazy is crazier than ever.

S.

Things I've Learned

1. Law school does not teach you how to be a lawyer. Maybe it teaches you how to think like a lawyer, but I could have went to paralegal school for that and saved $200,000. So, thanks for that, Georgetown. Much appreciated.

2. Law firms like to give you lots and lots of free alcohol and free (bad for you) food.

3. Lots of free alcohol + lots of free (bad for you) food = Lots of non-free shopping because you've gained too much weight to fit into your formerly "skinny" clothes. Damn it.

4. Do. Not. Piss. Off. The. Secretaries.

5. Running 3.1 miles is doable!

6. Running 3.1 miles with a blister is less doable.

7. Blister gel/cream preventer stuff does not work.

8. There are exactly 16 Black people in my firm. Total.

9. It's so easy to spend money when you've got money.

10. Don't ever take a job where you have to bill hours. Trust me on this.

11. It is totally appropriate to wear flat jeweled sandals to the club in June, and don't let anyone tell you differently.

12. Rooftop parties are fun.

13. Walking through an alley that smells like a schizophrenic homeless woman's underwear to get to said rooftop party is not fun.

14. The attractive, Black, cool, male lawyer is not totally an urban legend. If only I could remember his name...

15. As long as you look busy and type furiously, no one will bother you while you're on your computer at work. Even if you're blogging.

Happy Friday!

S.

P.S.- 16. Three day weekends should be mandatory.