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.

My Abs are like God

Last week I was in the 5 Funny Females show at the Purple Onion, and it was amazing! I had a great set; all the ladies had a great set! It was a lot of fun. I will soon have a 2 minute feature on Rooftopcomedy.com! I'm anxious to see what 2 minutes they're going to use!

I did two things that I've always have wanted to do.

1. I finally saw Maria Bamford! An awesome show at the Punchline. I remember seeing her Comedy Central special, way before I even thought about standup comedy, and it was amazing. I loved all of her jokes and characters. So after the show I met her. I was nervous. Meeting someone that influences you can be nervewracking. You just don't want them to be a douchebag. It would be like a kid seeing Mickey Mouse with his head off smoking a cigarette. Maria was very nice. She talked a bit and signed a postcard for me and took a picture with me. Very nice.

2. I competed in a Pageant. I don't know why I always wanted to do a pageant. I'm not a girly girl, but there are very few things that I enjoy that are just girly to the max. So... The Margaret France No Pants Co-Ed Comedy Pageant... so much Fun! I sang in front of an audience that wasn't there for karaoke for the first time since... um...highschool? I was nervous because I had gotten sick and my throat was scratchy! But I medicated all day and it went fine. All the boys won the top 3 spots. How sexist! Since when do tits not count for anything anymore?! haha. It was a lot of fun. As soon as I figure out how to transfer my camcorder to a clip on my computer, I'll post it.

I started incorporating weights into my workout. I'm so sore. I decided that my abs are like God. I believe they exist, and after working out, I feel their presence. My legs are a lot stronger than my arms. I can leg press (if that's even the right term for the exercise machine) 140lbs. But I can pull 35lbs...well barely... I wanted to move it to 20lbs, but that marker was blocked, so 35lbs it was. I can see a difference since starting the weights. I should rent out all the extra room I have in my pants. My really tight jeans are now just my kinda tight jeans! That's progress!

Worst Week Ever.

So last week was probably the worst week I ever had...

Where shall I begin...?


Well, I'm in danger of loosing my job soon. Most likely after the holidays. I'm pretty positive I'm going to loose my job, I just don't know when! (I'm part time and number 10 from the bottom of senority)

So that's been sucking out the fun for me. I'm trying to think of other jobs I'm qualified for. I need something that pays well because I have bills to pay and I need to start saving again. I haven't been able to save because I now work 20 hours a week. I try to pick up as many hours as I can, but it's not enough... I should be hearing from the hardware store soon about going part time there. I don't want to go back there, but I don't have much of a choice. I'm good with the owners, I've done the job before, and they're flexible with scheduling.

So this extremely early mid life crisis has got me thinking about school. I might go to the Academy of Art. If I were to go back to school, this would probably be the only one I'd be successful with. My kind of learning. My friend Ryan works there and is getting me info on their Broadcasting program and finacial aid. We'll see.


Now, what really made my weekend SUCK.

I did my Un-Lady Like show Friday night. It was a good show. Not the best, not the worst. I was thrown down into our new room, which is freakin' nice! But I had no idea how to set everything up! I had to figure it all out, I was the only one there until 15 min. before showtime. The ladies started showing up...we had a small crowd of about 20. My headliner tells me that she didnt realize she was headlining and that she had to go up first because she had something else scheduled. Fuck. Okay... So I rearranged the line up. I headline because I trusted myself to do it. The show was fine. One girl didn't do so well...everyone else got laughs, it was fine. As I said, I've had worse shows.

So I talk to one of the club managers afterwards, tell her that it went well... and we talk about taking a hiatus to build an audience. We're just lacking in the number of people attending. I agreed. So we brainstormed on places to go and advertise, and decided the show would come back in December.

The next day I get an email from her:

Hey Kelly,
After reading this one star review that we received on Yelp.com this morning about the Unladylike Show, I've decided to cancel the show:

"My friends and I went to the Unladylike show last night. I've been to SFCC before and it was pretty good. All three of us were totally shocked at how un-funny the women performing were. Not one of them talked about anything we could relate to. We had no idea "Unladylike" meant white trash but I guess at SFCC it does. I hate to be mean but they were all overweight and unattractive and not very bright. They talked about stupid things. One of the "comedians" was all into being white trash but it was just sad. Who wants to hear about poor people living in a trailer park? We just felt sorry for her but no one laughed. Kelly McCarron talked about really dull things but nothing funny. We couldn't believe we were at a comedy show. We just kept looking at each other waiting to laugh. In case the show producers don't know, there are actually women in San Francisco who read, are smart and actually have relationships with things other than vibrators and text messages. We totally felt like we were in some skanky bar in Sacramento."

Please cancel your performers for the December show we talked about.



W.T.F.? I started crying immediately. This is the nastiest review I've ever read about anything! It's one thing to not like our comedy, but to attack us for the way we looks...? Even if we ALL were overweight and unattractive (Which by they way most of the girls are skinny & pretty, and I talked about my jouney to loose weight) that has NOTHING to do with our comedy. If the show was filled with a bunch of Peter Griffin Look-a-Likes, that wouldn't have been mentioned in the review. Just harsh. It felt more like a personal attack than a review. What a stuck up bitch right?! And she didn't give it a one star, she gave it three....which doesn't matter, but if you're going to cancel me based on one review, then get your facts right!

So I just felt like my life was falling apart: My job, my comedy, my whole world was crumbling. So Sunday I went to the Fog Fest in Pacifica, and my friend Lee had a party and drinks. And I kept taking shots of tequila. Megan counted up to 10, but she said I was sneaking shots too. I blacked out. I've never blacked out in my life, let alone in public. I remember saying "I'm dull and unfunny" a lot. I just wanted to feel anything else but what I had been feeling; hopeless.

I feel like an idiot. I'm grateful for my friends that helped me through this. It's amazing that after all of the good things people say about you and your work, that ONE nasty, mean comment can fuck you up. You forget about everything else. You forget that someone came up to you after a show and said, "You were my favorite." You forget that some guy looked you up on myspace and sent you a non-creepy message about how much he liked you and your comedy...and that he came back to a show you were in! You forget that Mr. Brill, the booker of Letterman, thinks your comedy is good. You loose sight of all the good because one stuck up bitch said you were dull and not funny.

I've decided a couple of things...

1. I'm a bit relieved to not have to produce a show every month anymore. It's a lot of work, and I never have the kickass set I want in those shows because I'm running around all day getting things done. This will give me back the time I need to concentrate on my writing and performances.

2. Un-Lady Like is not dead. Maybe we're Un-Dead... heh...get it? Seriously though... I can produce that show anywhere... It just costs money that I don't have... So it maybe a while, but it's not gone forever.

3. Life is never over...well I guess until your dead....that's not as inspiring though... What I'm saying is, that even when your life seems like it's over, it's not. You just have to start rebuilding. It's like a lego house. You built some kickass lego building and then some fuckin' bitch comes over and knocks it down a swift kick of her leg. That sucks! You put together this amazing lego building without a guide book. You don't remember what steps you took to make it. How will you ever get it back to what it was? You just gotta start trying. It may never look the same... it may even look better than before.

I love my elaborate metaphors.

Yesterday was my birthday. After working all day (by choice... I need the hours) I went out to dinner with Megan, Valerie, Ryan, and Dhaya. Dinner was good. Went home with Megan and Valerie. Val and I have been friends since the 4th grade. Meg and I...well we've known each other since middle school, but weren't really friends til late in high school. It was so fun talking about people we used to hang with and sharing stories about them that the others might not have heard. It was good to laugh that hard...better than the Tequila Black Out of 2008. Actually the thing that made me laugh the hardest was something with Val and Ryan...but I have to tell that in person... Classic. Being around good friends was just what I needed.

I'm out of things to say... I'm a bit distracted honestly... I keep thinking about the birthday cake I have left over.

The Unfortunate Truth About Girls

We don’t want to have the details of our weddings planned out before we’re in a relationship.
But we do.

We don’t want to ask ourselves, “Is this the kind of guy I could marry and have kids with?” within minutes of meeting you.
But we do.

We don’t want to think about how our name will sound if we took your last name when we’ve just learned it.
But we do.

The way our brains are wired cause us to have these socially unnatural thoughts.

As much as I’d like to block out all of these “girly” thoughts, I can’t. My head goes into this jewel encrusted cave-like place. Yes, jewel encrusted. The interior is pink and instead of hieroglyphics, there are various, “Kelly + Johnny 4Ever” messages. Don’t be fooled by its colorful and sparkly appeal. This cave is a very dangerous place.

Some girls live in the cave. I can’t stand those girls. They’re not living in the here and now, but in a fantasy. I only go into the cave when there is a boy of interest to me. I tend to enter the cave with great caution; I tip toe in. I enter with disbelief. I can’t believe I’m going back to this place. Do you know what happened last time I was here? I fell deep into the fantasy world that the previously mentioned girls live in.

Let me explain the steps to this unhealthy world of fantasy.

Girl meets Boy.
Boy courts Girl.
They exchange numbers.

Stop right there.

I can’t speak for the boys, but girls are thinking about where this is going. “He asked for my number, he must really like me! Is he going to take me out on a date? What if it goes well? What if he becomes my boyfriend? Who’s family will we have Thanksgiving with? I’ll have a date for the company holiday party!”

Its one day into knowing this person and we’re already planning on replying to every event as “Yes +1.”

Now we can all see that this line of thinking is messed up. It’s crazy. I told you about the cave our minds go into… it’s not a good place. But we can’t help it! Believe me; if I could avoid this, I would, because it gets worse.
Let’s get back to our scenario.

Boy asks Girl out.

I’m sorry; I have to stop you again.

When there is a date, it’s all we can think about. “What am I going to wear? I have to shave my legs. What should I do with my hair? What are we going to talk about? What should I order at dinner? I don’t want to order anything too expensive. Is he going to kiss me? I hope I don’t say anything stupid. Maybe I should go buy a new outfit.”

We worry about all of this because we just want you to like us. What we forgot, thanks to our crazy thinking, is that you do like us. That’s why you asked us out in the first place. Also, you’re probably worried about being liked too. Honestly, at this point, we like you simply because you’ve shown interest in us. That act alone, is worth major points.

Okay so the date.
The date is fine, nothing out of the ordinary.
Let’s go old fashioned with this and say Boy walks Girl to her door, and they kiss good night.

Whoa.

Cue the 50’s girl group music.

Okay, so Boy and Girl are dating. Now the phone is involved. I hate the phone. The phone now controls the destiny of this relationship. Who calls who? The boy should call the girl right? Well it’s 2008. Why can’t the girl call the boy? When the girl calls, it comes off as desperate, or aggressive. Why can’t we just call? We had a good time on that date too. Why should we be made to wait around for the phone to ring? Now excessive calling, yes, that’s not good for either party. But why can’t we just call and say, “I had a nice time. I enjoy your company. Let’s do this again sometime.”?

A week goes by, no call. We’ve now become addicts in recovery to our friends.

“Hi Betty, I’m Kelly, and it’s been one week since my last phone call.”

“Don’t worry Kelly; you’re going to get through this.”

Withdrawal kicks in.

“I can’t take it anymore! I’m going to call! Where’s my phone?”

“Kelly, I took your phone. It’s for your own good!”

“You bitch! Give me my phone back!”

“No. You’re only going to hurt yourself!”

Now we analyze.

“Why hasn’t he called? We both had a good time. We shared some stories, some laughs. What was wrong with me? Was I not skinny enough? Was I not pretty enough? Am I too dumb? Was I too aggressive? Was I not aggressive enough? Did I need to whore it up more? What about me didn’t work?”

It never crosses our mind that maybe it has little to do with us. Maybe the guy just got out of a relationship and realized he’s not ready for another one. Maybe the guy has too much going on with work or has too much baggage to get involved with a girl.

Because none of that crosses our minds, our whole cave comes crashing down. We’re actually upset! Why? We barely know this guy, but we put so much hope into him that we built this fantasy of what the relationship might become. Our happily ever after is no more.

I think that girls just want the fairy tale to happen. Maybe not in a “knight in shiny armor” kind of a way, but we just want to find love. We want to know that things will work out for us. As independent as we can be, we still would like someone to come home to and lay beside. Why build an amazing life for ourselves if we have no one to share it with? Every time I get my hopes up about something, and I’m let down, I do get more jaded and bitter than I was before; but that jewel encrusted cave is still a part of me. I’ll always have hope because I can never give up on myself. No matter how much I may want to, I can never just stop being.

I try to fight them, but I do have these girly thoughts. Yes I do know some details about my wedding to a person that I don’t know yet. (There’s going to be karaoke, my first dance will be to either “Jungle Love” or “Walkin’ on Sunshine,” and my dance with my dad will be to Paul Simon’s “Father & Daughter,” and I plan on singing “What I Like About You.”) Yes, I have my favorite baby names. Yes, I still dream of movie-like scenarios where a guy sweeps me off my feet-literally. I hate that I do, but it’s something I can’t help. I think most girls can’t help that.

I guess what I’m trying to say is:
Every girl has a crazy flag; they’re just not always flying it.

Moving away

Everyone and everything you come in contact with, serves a purpose. I believe that have time limits though. I hate to say that about some situations, but it's true. Friendships fade, you find another job, you move to a different place. How do you know when the time is up? For me, I suppose, it's when I don't enjoy it anymore. It becomes more frustrating than fun, and you have to ask, "Is it worth it?" Is it worth all the pent up anger, and hostility for me to stay in what used to be a safe haven? This fish is out growing her bowl. I don't like that I just compared myself to a fish... but am I one to delete a perfectly fine metaphor? No. Never! I guess what I'm saying is, is that whether I'm being pushed out, or if I'm the one opening the door myself, it's time to go. I have so many bigger and better things to do, things to accomplish! If I stay, I'll be holding myself back and giving me a whopping headache. Not worth it. I hate that it's come to this. I don't like turning my back on anyone or anything. But sometimes you have to do what you have to do.
It's time to move on and grow.

A Relationship That Has to End

I started working out last month. I'm going to the gym, trying to eat the right foods, and I've been weighing myself each week. I lost 2 lbs after the first week. One tends to get a little cocky after you loose the first couple of pounds. "Wow, maybe I could still squeeze in a Love It size sundae from Cold Stones." The second week I gained 2 lbs, but we're gonna call that muscle. It's true, you do gain muscle, so I just factor it in. The hardest part about loosing weight, is not rationalizing. "I didn't gain 2 lbs of fat, I gained muscle" "I ate an apple today so then I should be able to eat an entire pizza by myself." "I'm on my period, so it's okay to have chocolate." You're constantly wondering how many calories are in a cookie and if you've possibly burned the equivalent calories because you parked as far back as you could in the mall parking lot.

I'm always thinking about food, and I wonder, is food thinking about me? My parents went to Paris and the only thing I could think about was what food they were eating. Not the amazing sights; the Eiffel tower, the Louve, Notre Dame- no! But were they eating croissants, eclairs, and macaroons?! I associate too much with food.

I had a cupcake last week. Not just any cupcake. It was a chocolate cupcake with caramel butter cream frosting topped with toasted coconut, and filled with caramel. It was amazing. I haven't stopped thinking about it! It's because I have regrets. I ate it too fast. I didn't get the chance to savor it. If only I could have one more, and this time, eat it right. Eat it the way it's supposed to be eaten; because something made with so much love and care, shouldn't be eaten barbarically, but with love and attention. Those toasted flakes of coconut shouldn't be taken for granted. They serve a purpose too and should be indulged just as much as the creamy caramel!

You may have noticed that this is more than an obession. The relationship I have with food is a bad relationship. When I'm sad, I turn to food. When I celebrate, I find food. When I'm bored, I hang out with food. I need to to learn not to be so dependent on food.

So where was I...?

Week One: -2lbs
Week Two: +2lbs (remember, that's probably muscle.)
Week Three: -2lbs
Week Four: -2lbs

So far so good. It's not mastering the eliptical, or counting calories that's going to be the hardest part of loosing the weight; it's the willpower. My counter at work is next to a Just Desserts. You don't know what torture until everyday you walk into work, you smell fresh baked cookies.