Oh Eight

It’s that time of year again. That time of year when we look back at the last 12 months and access how this year has treated us.

I spent my 2007 New Year’s Eve asleep. Not only did I have a 6am shift the next day, but I was also recovering from my liver failing. Long story short- A complication from my surgery led to me being in excruciating pain for two weeks during the holidays. I was jaundice (my skin was yellow), couldn’t eat anything, and was in constant pain. The doctors weren’t quite sure what was wrong. I felt like a case you would see on House. By the time the New Year rolled around, they had properly diagnosed me and I was well again.

As my coloring returned to the norm, I made a plan for myself: to take advantage of my job benefits and fly out on a trip at least once a month.

I’ve traveled more this year than I thought I would ever travel in my entire life. January and February consisted of day trips to L.A. They filled my quota without emptying my bank account. Sometime in those two months, I was checking in a gentleman that works for Air France. I was asking him if flights to Paris were full this time of year. (I fly free because I fly standby…) He said that it was a great time to fly, and that I should go. I mentioned that my cousin lives in Paris and he insisted that since I know people in Paris, I should take the opportunity to go. I never thought I’d get the chance to leave the country. I didn’t have a passport. The more I thought about, the more I wanted to go. I was trying to think of who could be my companion on this trip. I can bring someone along, why not? Though I would have loved to bring my best friend Megan, I knew it would not work out well. As a newly wed with a little one at (their new) home it didn’t bode well for an international outing. I had another friend who I always talked about going to Ireland with. It wasn’t Ireland, but it was close. So it was only right that I asked him if he wanted to go. He was in the middle of the semester and unable to join me. That secretly made me relieved. I wanted to keep Ireland for us if we went. I already had someone else in mind for the excursion. I called up Dana and asked her if she wanted to go to Europe. She said she couldn’t afford to go to Europe. “Can you afford sixty dollars?” (International fees) She said she could. “Good, that’s all it’s going to cost to fly there.” Her tone changed. “Yeah, okay. Let me check my schedule. I’ll call you back.”

In March, we flew to Amsterdam, stayed two nights, and then took a train into Paris. We stayed in Paris longer than expected. It’s that whole “stand by” traveling thing that got us in trouble. It took us three days to get back to American soil. Despite the huge hiccup in our trip, it was amazing.

A month later I was in New York City. The Big Apple. The city that never sleeps. Despite being a resident of the state for two years as a toddler, I had never really taken a trip to New York. The last time I was there, I was 15. We were actually vacationing in New Jersey. My dad had set up lunch with old friends in Manhattan. At 15, the only thing I wanted to see was Times Square. Before the lunch, we walked through the city. We walked, and walked, and walked. I was just beginning to see Times Square and… it was time to turn around so we could make it to lunch on time. It was disappointing. So now, here I was. 21, with comics, in New York City; it was amazing. I took the NBC Studio tour in hopes of seeing Studio 8-H. I did. I saw it. I stood behind glass, looking down on the stage. I wanted to sneak away from the group and find my way to the stage. If I got caught, I would just claim that I got separated from the group. I felt something as I looked at that stage. Even though I had never been there before, I felt that finally, I was home. New York City was a big long party. Comedy, Broadway shows, drinking. Oh geez did I drink?! Yeah. I drank away my bank account. When I don’t have work, or have to drive, I let loose with the drinking. Well that rarely happens. I was responsibility free for four or five days. I did a lot of damage. Not just drinks though; food, orchestra seats, souvenirs, the NBC tour. As it all added up, my bank account went into the red. For someone who didn’t pay for her flight or lodging, I spent A LOT of money. I don’t remember the exact amount, but by the time everything was taken out, I had overdrawn. I overdrew so much that my account had -$200. I was two weeks away from another paycheck, one that wouldn’t be worth a lot anyhow because I had taken off a few days to make the trip.

I did it. I had financially hit rock bottom. Gas was nearing five dollars a gallon, I had gotten my first parking ticket ever, my car registration was due, and I couldn’t afford to pay my bills. So I didn’t. It took me until the middle of July before I was caught up on payments.

Did my financial woes stop my travels? No! The weekend May turned into June I went to Las Vegas. It was for the arts though; the filming of The Fat Pack. I told everyone upfront that I didn’t have money. I was ashamed, embarrassed, really. I don’t like mooching off of others. I was really taken aback at how wonderful they all were to me. They covered for me when I needed it. The only thing they asked for in return was for me to bring them back to Vegas. No Problem.

Days after returning from Vegas, I took my brother and dad to Boston. Yes, I still had no money, but this trip was already planned. My dad took care of the hotel and Red Sox tickets, and I flew us over. I love my Red Sox and being in Fenway Park was awesome!

No trips in July. I couldn’t afford it. I worked to pay off my bills. I was selling my DVDs to FYE stores, just to get money for gas so I could get to work. A DVD that I paid twenty dollars for sold for three dollars. Those three dollars would not even get me a gallon of gas. It was my own Great Depression.

August came and I found someone very special to me. We share one main common interest to an extreme. Sandy and I had a girl’s night out planned and I said, “Why don’t we go to a buffet in Vegas before we go out that night?” The idea seemed crazy impossible. Crazy it was; impossible, not a chance. We flew down, first class, to Vegas. Grabbed a cab, and went to the buffet. We spent six to eight hours in Vegas, with plenty of time to go out in San Francisco. It was the first course of our food obsessed relationship.

I stayed home in September. The whole money issue really tied me down. In October I took my mom to New York for a Broadway weekend. We took a redeye on a Friday night, and arrived Saturday morning. We had tickets for Young Frankenstein at 2pm, and Gypsy at 8pm. (Orchestra seats for both. Amazing!) We left Sunday morning on a 7am flight. I never want to do that with my mom again. She does not travel well.

The following week I had a week of paid vacation; how could I not take that up? I made a weekend trip to L.A. I visited some friends, saw some good comedy, and didn’t spend a lot of money. I enjoy my solitaire trips to L.A. They make me feel very independent. I can get myself from LAX to downtown or to Hollywood by public transit. I like that I’m out of my element and have to be creative.

Thanksgiving at my house is not unlike most dinners in my house. My family doesn’t like to go anywhere on Thanksgiving because the traffic is just not worth it. If anyone comes over our house, it’s my grandma. It’s just another dinner. I’ve never been a fan of the food served at Thanksgiving. You name it, I probably don’t like it. Yes, I don’t even like stuffing. So, to spice things up a bit, Sandy and I headed back to Vegas to spend our holiday at a buffet. How wonderful! Well, wonderful in theory. We didn’t realize so many people would have the same idea. We got to a buffet at about 8pm and the line was a two hour wait. Standing-in line- for two straight hours! F- That! Our Thanksgiving meal consisted of a wrap Sandy got, and a hamburger, fries, and a shake I got from a food court in Caesar’s.

It’s already the end of December and I have not made any travel plans for the month. I’m okay with that. Sure, I didn’t complete the “travel to a city each month” plan. But I did see a lot. I did more than some people do in a lifetime, and for that I’m grateful. I’ve made so many wonderful memories, and for that, I am a better person.


So, I traveled a lot this year. What else happened?
I did a lot of firsts as far as comedy as concerned. I performed at The Purple Onion, and The Punchline. I was hosting and producing my own show. I almost started my own production company. My show got cancelled, which in hindsight was a great thing for me. I was so busy working on that show every month that I had no time for me. Since then I’ve been able to work on my material and it’s better than ever. I’ve finally found something real to talk about. It’s real, relatable and most importantly, it’s funny.

I walked down the Eiffel Tower.
I ate banana off of a “dancer” in a sex club.
I got to hang out with some New York comics, including Dave Attell.
I won $80 in roulette.
I’ve had my heart broken in a way I never thought possible.
I’ve met an idol of mine.
I watched Manny Rameriz knock a ball over the Green Monster
I’m finally coming out of my shell and being less shy and more approachable.
For months I didn’t know if I was going to loose my job or not. (I’m not as it turns out…I get to keep it, well, until at least March)
I’ve begun looking at myself differently, in a healthy, positive way.

2008 has been good to me; far better than most. What made this year different was that I took charge of my life. I was tired of being bored. If you want your life to change, you have to make the change. Here’s to a new year, and new experiences…won’t you join me?

Shedding an Image

I never wanted to be a poster girl for weight loss. I never wanted to talk about being overweight, or trying to lose weight onstage because then it would be real. Then I would know that everyone else knows that I'm not thin. I hate saying it and even writing it now. I always thought that it was something I could hide. I don't think my weight is the first thing people think about when they see me. I'm not huge, but I'm not small. I figured that if I had a strategic wardrobe then no one would notice. Wear pants that have just a little extra room in them. Wear layers of shirts and sweatshirts. Surely no one would catch wise! In the past few months, as I've opened up about my feelings of weight, my weight, and my struggles, I'm finding that I'm not alone. Yes I know that 7 out of 10 women have a negative opinion about their body image, but the internal struggles that I endured, I believed were something only I knew. I've come to realize a few things about myself.

1. I've used my weight as a crutch. My weight has been the reason for why I wasn't invited to a party, why he didn't ask me out, why I didn't get ahead. I've been using it as my scapegoat so I don't have to face the reality that I may be the one to blame.

2. I don't give 100%. I have the time; I could be working out for two hours everyday. At most I go for an hour 5 days a week. That is a lot, but I have the ability to go for more time and I have more to lose. I have a lot of weight to get off of my body, and once I get to where I want to be, then going 3-5 days a week for 30-60min will be great.

3. I have no willpower. Exhibit A: Two weeks ago I went out of my way to Sprinkles Cupcakes, and with a friend ate them in my car. All of my teeth are sweet teeth. If I get a craving for something, and it happens a lot, I will do whatever it takes to get that. Living at home makes it harder. My family is always making some kind of a treat and it drives me crazy. It smells so good, I just can't help myself. I know I shouldn't, but tasting the delicious treat seems worth it in the moment.

4. I can do this. I know if I apply myself, I can lose the weight. It's just a matter of conquering my laziness and strengthening my willpower.

I've said that if I was big enough, I would want to go on the Biggest Loser and have Jillian or Bob train me. I'd want them to make me exercise until I cried, then yell at me for crying. I met with a personal trainer last week. For about 20-25minutes I did Cardio. I did high steps, tri-cep pushups, squats with and without weights, lay on my back and moved my legs as if I was pedaling. I didn't cry, but I wanted to. She didn't yell at me, but told me that if I didn't fully extend my left leg in the pedaling exercise, that I would have to start over again; which was enough motivation for me. The day after my legs hurt in ways I never thought possible. I'm discovering muscles I never knew existed. Never mind about the Biggest Loser. I can't even imagine what their bodies must feel like after their workouts.

I’ve never been comfortable in my body. I couldn’t always wear the clothes that I wanted to wear. I was ashamed I didn’t look the way I wanted too. Please understand that. I want to look a certain way for me; not because the media is telling me how I should look.
Something is changing though. I still want to loose the excess weight, but I do feel better about my current state. I’m weird in that I don’t want to do certain things, but if it’s for an audience and the arts, then I’ll do it. I’ll go out of my comfort zone for entertainment. Well, I never expected to be singing and dancing onstage in a teddy, but for four nights I am doing just that. I had two very different thoughts. 1) Finally! I get to dress up sexy for once. And 2) Who would want to see me in a teddy? Yes, as Ms. Caitlin Gil has stated it so perfectly before, this kind of low self esteem can’t be bought, it has to be made. I don’t know how to take compliments. I’m in this odd stage of shedding the person I used to be, and becoming a new person. I’m in the middle. I’m still holding onto what I’ve been taught by others. The girls that used to call me their friend made me feel that I was not on their level. I was cast as the not as pretty, chubby friend. Well of course I developed a sense of humor from that. I don’t think they consciously marked me as “that” girl, but they did. To them, I wasn’t threatening. I could never take a guy away from them. I could never physically look better them. The only thing I had on them were good grades and that wasn’t really all that important to them. I’m not that person anymore. I like going out, looking and feeling my best. I don’t want to come off as conceded though. It’s a fine line as far as I’m concerned.

I’ve made a small turning point on this journey. I used to be skeptical by positive remarks about my appearance. But something happened. When I was on stage, I was just myself (well, myself in lingerie), and got a response from the audience that basically said, “Damn, you look hot!” And instead of shying away from it, I embraced it. “Yes, I am hot!” Something came over me. I took a step away from the old me, and a step towards the new.

I feel like I’ve gone astray from what I was originally talking about. Let me string it together. I am bettering myself, physically and mentally. It’s a journey that’s far from over. I never intended to be so open about it, as it would let everyone know about my flaws, but as I continue to open up, and I get responses from others saying, “Me too!” I feel that I’m opening a door saying its okay to improve yourself. You don’t have to settle if you are not completely happy. As I better myself on the inside, the outside will soon follow. It’s cliché I know, but if I (a person so lazy she could, and has stayed in all day because it was just too comfortable to get out of bed) can do it, so can you.