Little Girls and Grown Fucking Women

Little girls are clueless. They've come to college to meet boys, go to parties, and go to class when the hangover isn't so bad. They wear jeggings, or skinny jeans every day, regardless of appropriateness or body-shape. They wear high heels for no particular reason, which is baffling because the walk alone from the parking lot to campus is enough to make you want to cut off your feet, let alone walking around for the rest of the day. If it's not the 4 inch hooker shoes, it's those god-forsaken Uggs. Which is short for Fucking Uggly. Climate alert: It is never cold enough in San Diego to warrant the purchase or wearing of wool shoes.



The most troubling thing I see in young girls on campus, though, is what they are doing to their bodies. Pizza, soda, breakfast burritos, these are things that will stay with you. You can see them walking around, not worrying about what lies before them. Instead of paying so much attention to your stupid outfits and party plans, give some of that attention to what is going on with your body.



I am a grown-ass woman. I will not concede to wearing your silly tight pants, regardless of how fashionable you believe them to be. My hips are of the child-bearing size, I do not need to apply skin-tight denim to that. I will wear comfortable (but cute) shoes that get me from point A to point B dozens of times a day. I have also had the joy (or curse) of having large breasts, regardless of my waist size, so I will not be wearing tank-tops. I am not competing with these girls, thank science, but I can't help but notice our differences every single moment I am in school.



I guess I bring all this up because it was recently pointed out to me that I do not dress like a typical college student. Well, I am NOT a typical college student. I am finally comfortable with my body (mostly). I know what looks good on me and what is a fad for little girls. I'm going to show a little leg (because they are gorgeous, if I do say so myself), and a little cleavage (because mine is awesome), and I'm going to be a grown fucking woman.

This Should Be an Easy Choice

Fucking Hypocrite

You need to hold my still slightly fat ass accountable. In all my bitching about losing weight and becoming healthy I neglected to mention I smoke. Well, yes, I fucking lied by omission. You got me. I lose. I'm still an asshole. BUT....It's been well over 48 hours since my last cigarette and I think this might actually take. I'm not quitting cold turkey, like I have before. I'm using an eCigarette to curb nicotine cravings and oral fixations (I giggle EVERY time I type oral). I plan to use the eCig for a month and then quit that as well.

I used to joke that "quitters never win". That's when I was fat. That's when I was kidding myself and making jokes to deflect attention to my double chins. If I can lose all this fucking weight I can do anything. It's mind over body. Cravings will eventually subside and my lungs will happily reward my efforts.

So that's it. I wanted you to know that I'm still alive, I still workout religiously, and I'm still losing weight the slow and hard way (there I go with those damned BJ jokes again). Now I can add years to my life. My hot, sexy, skinny bitch life.

I feel used.

Picture this. I'm at the gym and there are approximately 20-30 elliptical machines to chose from. It's mid morning on a Tuesday so I practically have the entire fucking gym to myself. I chose my machine and start going at it. Then this girl, we'll call her "cupcake" comes in and starts looking around. There are dozens of machines to chose from. She chooses the one right next to me.

At this point I feel as if I should mention I believe there to exist an unspoken agreement amongst most gym goers. It's kind of like when you go to a public restroom and there are 15 open stalls and then someone choses the stall right next to yours. It's just uncalled for, really. Why you gotta be all up in my business?

So there I am sweating away and looking quite attractive as my December indulgences come back to haunt me. Cupcake, it appears, has chosen to work out next to me to make herself look more attractive to the menfolk. It works and a man who I shall call Beefcake comes up and starts chatting with her. For 30 fucking minutes I'm sweating my ass off and grunting and breathing heavy and these assholes are flirting and making a date for the weekend. Really? I needed to witness the mating ritual between Cupcake and Beefcake?

Eventually they walked away and went out into the parking lot to "exchange phone numbers" whatever-the-hell that might be code for. The only logical explanation I can think of though is that Cupcake really wanted to look her best and used me to juxtapose her botoxed perfection.

I'm just going to take this as a compliment, I've decided. I am a fucking aphrodisiac and I sweat sexual pheromones. Clearly, that's what happened.

A Valuable Lesson

It's been a while. But trust me, this gem of a story is worth it.

Some background: I've recently joined a new gym. The gym I've been using at school has become less convenient so I found a local gym with reasonable rates. That said, the only flaw this gym has is its proximity to a large shopping mall, especially now that Christmas time is upon us. More background: it has been raining cats and dogs in San Diego for the last week. Yesterday I found myself in a position where I desperately wanted to go work out, but did not want to drive in the crazy rain, with the even crazier Southern California drivers to the gym during the worst shopping traffic time of the year. Instead, I decided I'd run around the neighborhood for a little while. Rain be damned.

Big. Fucking. Mistake.

I learned something useful yesterday. When you decide to yourself that you are going to run in the pouring rain, and its particularly chilly outside, things are not going to turn out well. After 45 minutes of becoming completely drenched and cold I walked back into the warmth of my apartment. What happened next, I can only assume, is the physical equivalent to putting a sleeping persons hand in warm water. That's right. I involuntarily wet myself. I did not think I had to pee leading up to walking into my apartment, but apparently, the warmth of my livingroom combined with my general cold wetness led to a most humiliating moment. I stood in my doorway in utter shock. I could either laugh or cry. I chose to laugh.

And then I took a shower.

We gather here today..

You are losing someone you may or may not have loved. Yourself. With this comes a mourning period. You are going to find that you enjoy different things and that you've become a different person. You need to mourn the loss of the person you were and embrace the new life you have created.

For me, I did not love the person I was. I treated her poorly. I told her she was fat, I told her she was ugly. I told her she was lucky she got her boyfriend when she was young and thin because nobody would want her in the state she was in now. I do find myself saying those things to myself, still, but not as frequently. It's a process. I have to remember to congratulate myself on my progress this far and encourage myself to continue further.

In the early stages of weight loss and change, it can be hard to see progress. This is when you may be in denial. This cures nothing, make this stage of grief short and gear up for the other four stages. Anger will wash over you at some point. For me, my internal monologue went something like this, "What the fuck were you thinking? It's your fault you got into this mess to begin with, you fucking pig." This stage actually helped with motivation, especially when I put some Marilyn Manson on the iPod...

Bargaining might be the worst part of mourning your loss. "If I work out extra hard this week, I can eat anything I want." Not so fast, Cowbella, that's not how this is going to work. Perhaps once you've reached a maintenance stage you can start to look at your food consumption differently, but you and I have a while to go before we have this discussion.

Depression. It's a bitch. The weight doesn't come off fast enough, you plateau, you can't eat at parties like everyone else. The good thing is that working out and sweating helps rid you of those feelings of sadness and black is a VERY flattering color.

Finally we come to acceptance. This is the longest phase, I'm still going through it. I think I finally started to accept my loss when I started purchasing new clothes and got rid of my "fat" clothes. You need to accept the fact that others will be treating you differently. The sad fact is that people are generally nice and more attentive to those who are healthier looking. It takes getting used to. People will want to talk to you and will smile at you. It can be a bit unnerving, and it might make you resentful at first, "Why am I acceptable now, and not before?". You just need to let that go, remember to be nice to those around you who might be dealing with their own weight issues, and accept that our society is built for smaller people.

Mourn the loss of your former self, but try not to be an asshole to your new self. She's much cooler and can kick your ass.

Netflix is your new gym.

Wanna know something cool? Netflix Instant offers workout videos. That's right. You don't even have to leave your house to work out. This might be the coolest thing I've discovered in a hot minute.

I have a gym membership through my school. While I was in summer school, I had access, and now I'm in that awkward period of time between semesters where I have no gym access. This made me nervous. I've been doing so good, was I going to go back to a sedentary life and gain all that weight back? Fuck no! I've decided that a bare minimum hour long walk is mandatory every day. And every other day, I shall also include an ab/core video from Netflix. Hooray!

This service is only a few dollars a month, people. If you are nervous about going to a gym, or live in an area where walking outside is difficult, there is no reason not to do the work in your house instead. You don't have to buy fancy gym equipment, you don't even have to put on shoes! You do need to get your heart rate up and get your metabolism in action-mode.

If you own a Wii, a Playstation, or a Tivo, you have no excuse. Instead of sitting in front of the television, sweat in front of it! You don't have a fucking excuse, it's only $11 or so, and you'd probably spend that much on some shitty bad-for-you snack anyway. Do it! Do it now!