Guest Post: Lowered Expectations (Part 3) by NotYourAllyKat

NotYourAllyKat is back with the last installment of her 3 part series. In case you missed it, you can read part 1 here and part 2 here. 

In recent recovery from a forbidden love and with a haunting past of trifilin men it becomes difficult to like anyone. It’s not that I don’t meet them; I just really don’t like anyone. Most of the time I have written you off within the first five minutes; your speech, way of dress, even body language, mean so much. If you were lucky enough to have gotten my number you have two texts to capture my attention. I have given up going on dates for free meals because it is just a waste of my time. I watch you pitifully try to interest me and I take notes in my head of all the stupid shit you say so I can retell this disaster in the most entertaining way possible to my friends.

Recently when talking to a few guy friends I asked them what they wanted in a woman. The answer was simple, a lady that can hang with the fellas, hold her own, and a bonus if she can cook. When I mentioned that maybe this woman should be independent, the conversation quickly came to a hault. “No, no, no!” they exclaimed. They explained a woman that is independent is too much trouble, too demanding, too exacting, wants too much, the list went on and on, apparently being able to take care of yourself is a turn-off.

This got me thinking maybe it’s not me who won’t settle, maybe no one wants to settle with me? I am that exact girl they were talking about. I carry myself in a way that makes it seem like I need no one. Although this theory was quickly trampled over the past months as hoards of suitors have pursued me in the thirstiest of ways. You know the guy that says “hey, how are you?” with no response for 18 days, I’ve got two of those. Or the guy that met you, and basically will do anything for you without knowing three facts about you? Also my personal favorite the old boo that uses social media to catch your attention by tagging you in something useless. So back to my original problem why don’t I like one? The intentions behind these men’s actions are good and it’s very clear they are interested. This answer is, too, very simple.

I won’t settle. I don’t settle for anything but what I want for my own life so why would choosing a mate be any different. Before you go all hauty –ta (is that a word?) so young and so foolish, I didn’t say I wouldn’t compromise. Compromise is different. Compromise is, you care so you meet in the middle.  Settling is like eating the measly peanuts with the promise of a huge feast just on the horizon. All these suitors were missing something; either basic common sense, boundaries, a general interest in the person I really am, or just an all around edge-I need excitement! If I settle deep inside I don’t care therefore I don’t want to meet in your middle.

I am independent, free-spirited, and exacting and I will not settle for anyone who wants anything less.  Just because I do not need anyone doesn’t mean I don’t want someone. Trust me when I want some one I know exactly how to act, I know how to stroke the male ego. (and then some! Lol) You can be king of the world, once you show me I am queen. As tired as I am of the games of this single life, I won’t settle. I can’t, I owe it to myself to get exactly what I want out of life.

When You're Not Looking: John Wooden. UCLA. (Wo)Man's Character.

I was going to write this great post and include two references that nicely encompass all the points I deemed important. I was going to make it into a two part post detailing how excited I am. 

The first quote is by John Wooden, "The true test of a man's character is what he does when [he thinks] no one's watching." Ahhh, deep right? It's really true. I wasn't paying attention and my entire department was watching me.

The other reference was 2 Corinthians 5:7, "for we walk by faith, not by sight." So true, so very very true. Especially at this moment in my life. 

Then I got home at 7:45pm from work and I said to hell with all of that.

Yes, I had a great first day of work but...

I am tired. I am spent. I am happy. I am blessed but shit I am going to bed.

Goodnight.

Guest Post: Lowered Expectations: Forbidden Love (Part 2) by NotYourAlleyKat

NotYourAllyKat is back with Part 2 of her 3 part series. You can check out Part 1 here.

As a basic human fact we always want what we cannot have, and being in my mid twenties all I crave is that all black everything, sleek, sexy Maserati. You know the man that is not good for anything in real life, but in this wondrous fantasy world he is your everything. I love him, not in the let’s get married, have kids and a picket fence stable sort of way. I love him similar to the fierceness of a dragon’s breath, the awe you feel when you open your eyes underwater for that brief moment, the freeness of the wind blowing through your hair kind of way. It’s a deep, intangible, unexplainable love. It’s all of those incredible things that make it so dangerous. Love that is like a drug and once you have felt it, you want nothing less. Much like a drug this kind of love leaves you yearning and lifeless once it disappears. My soul has yet to be the same and perhaps this is why I am never satisfied. 

He was an empty soul. Although nothing was ever out of his reach and he was capable of obtaining anything in life he could ever desire this still did not please him. He lived like a king in his cold castle, high above the peons of the world, further disconnecting him from the every day world. His job sucked the life out of him but rewarded him fiercely with more money than a man should ever be privy to have. Being an attractive man, women flocked to him and he in turn accepted the love without ever the intention of return.  He had convinced himself he favored being alone. He didn't want to worry about anyone else and rather dealt with women like ships passing in the night.

She saw right through it all. Their connection was too intense, too close to perfect. The way they fit like puzzle pieces in bed was uncanny. She had never experienced emotion for anyone like she did for him.  She wanted him however and whenever he came, her knees quivered while he was around. The anticipation of seeing him gave her the greatest anxiety, although she played her role in the game and kept her desires quiet. For she knew trusting in a shadow was ridiculous no matter how much she felt like he was following her. His intangible quality that attracted her so much would be what would lead to their demise. 

It seemed as if the universe was trying to tell her something through all their chance encounters. In a city with millions of people how could it be it was always him? In her tipsy blur of fun in the nightclub, it was always him at the table right next door. Him who she spotted on the patio as she merrily strolled into brunch. His building she ended up at after hitting it off with a stranger on a random sunny day. His college roommate she met at a party. It seemed as if she could not escape; with each encounter her lust grew less but the connection she felt grew stronger.

The story does not end with those chance encounters. For you see, the nature of forbidden love is tricky. Unless you have felt it you cannot truly understand the twisted way it pulls you in, like the ocean tide.  The water is frigid but yet you still wade, but before you know it you’re in too deep. It doesn't matter what anyone around me says because I cannot hear. I don’t even long for air; I’d rather be thrashed around by his waves than safe on land. That is the depth of my love, because even though I’m drowning he makes me feel invincible.   

Submitted by NotYourAllyKat

Bookmark: What is he?

I started this post a few weeks ago and haven't had the chance to really dig deep into it. This morning a friend of mine posted this link and it made me think about my nephew and his reality again. So I'm bookmarking this post for myself with a promise to get back to it later. 

I remember showing off a picture of my nephew to a guy I was dating. I was so proud to be his aunt. As soon as he was born, I became that annoying person who wanted to share pictures of my love with everyone. I pulled out one of his latest pictures and exclaimed to the guy, "Isn't he cute!" 

I know, I know there are a million adjectives I could use to capture his beauty but when I see him I get stuck on stupid and cute is the adjective I've constantly abused.

After agreeing that my nephew was in fact cute, he followed up with a question, "What is he?"

I looked at the guy and thought to myself, "aside from cute, what's left?" 

It didn't initially hit me. 

My nephews long curly locks and fair skin was a beautiful mix of his mother and father. 

He was simply my cute nephew, in my eyes. 

Within seconds his reality hit me.

"Oooooooooh!" I exclaimed to myself.

He wants to know the ethnicity of this newborn? Up until this point, it never occurred to me that my nephew was anything but black. 

My sister had dated the same man for over 14 years and I never thought to ask what he, himself, identified as. But after that moment with, the guy, I knew I had to start asking questions. So I hit up my nephew's father, a man who stood at over 6 '8", sported a long dark, black, wavy ponytail, and fairer skin than even my fairest of friends and asked, "What is he?"

Happy Friday to my everythings!

This post is about nothing.

This post is about everything.

This post is about my excitement.

In less than two hours, I will leave work and head for the airport.

I have an 8 pm flight back home to sunny Los Angeles and I can barely hold back my excitement.

I haven't been home since last December.

I haven't been able to hug my nephew and tell him how much I love him.

I haven't been able to hug my sisters and tell them how much I love them.

I miss my family.

This trip is exactly what I need right now.

Some emotional rejuvenation.

This post is about nothing.

This post is about everything.

I get to see my everythings!

Guest Post: Lowered Expectations (Part 1) by NotYourAlleyKat

I've always said that writing about my life experiences is one of the most therapeutic exercises. I look back on my dating blogs and marvel at my stupidity, while laughing at my genius. A friend of mine has thus been inspired to try her hands at writing about her life experiences. The three part series that follows is written by my friend NotYourAlleyKat.

-----

Men and women are remotely different creatures, but yet there are those times when something magical happens and they are able to collide. A mystical energy is possessed between the two and they are able to live in perfect harmonic bliss. Unfortunately this bliss these days is often short lasted. We live in a world that’s all about me and rarely about us. Even if deep inside our hearts we believe in an us, our pride has grown too big to allow ourselves to be so vulnerable. In this three part guest series, I will explain how men ain't shit, why I won’t settle, and the serpentine incredible nature of forbidden love.

I used to care a lot about every guy I dated. I would treat him as if he was King of the World. But do you know what happened, I got burnt every single time. I actually remember when I stopped caring: it was July of 2011. I was raised to be an extremely independent girl. I’ll hang curtains, move furniture, paint walls alone before I ask someone to help. Whenever I’m sick, I’ll be the last one to admit it. This particular July, I came down with I think what was the worst sickness of my adult life. I had a fever of 104, hot and cold at the same time, and I couldn't swallow my own spit without feeling the pain of what seemed like 1000 knives. 

During this time I was also working two 16-hour days back to back, which included making desserts for over 100 people. I didn't have a choice about resting because  I was the only one who could do the job. Needless to say the after the second day of work I was on the edge of death. I came home, sat down and tried to drink some broth to sooth my throat. I had a complete and utter breakdown. I called upon the help of my boo* of two plus years. I told him I was dying and asked him to bring me some Gatorade. Boo said he was at his friend’s house but would come in a little bit. I looked at the clock and it was 10:00pm. 

So I waited..waited…waited and restlessly tried to sleep.  I was finally able to fall sound asleep several hours later when all of a sudden I received a text. I looked at the clock, 5:00am illuminated my room. Boo had texted me. "How are you?"  

It was at that very moment, while sitting up on my couch, with the early light peaking into the room that I realized, men are not worth all the effort we put into them. I’m pretty sure I cried really hard. I never felt so abandoned in my life. I was alone and betrayed, like an alley cat in the rain. It was pretty sad. I had spent two years cultivating a relationship with this man. We  had done everything a normal couple having fun would do. We went sky diving, had long lazy days together, and even crazier nights. I thought he knew me. Up until this point I had I never asked him for anything. He had the nerve to just left me sick and alone.

These days I take size up each man I come across. Men are much like used cars. It’s a shame most men are lemons. The engine under the hood never matches the beautiful outward appearance they present upon meeting. Once their shiny paint starts to peel and/or once you reach 3,000 miles, their engine breaks down and leaves you stranded. Over the course of about two months you go from thinking you hit the jackpot, to realizing you'll never get your money's worth.

I wouldn't say I’m bitter, just disappointed. I was recently dating a guy who had potential. He did me a favor by not presenting himself as a shiny steal. He was just okay; cool even. After meeting, he quickly  passed the talking on the phone test. Surprisingly he properly replied back to text messages. Soon we were spending ample time together.  Eventually I started to think hey, I might actually like this one. 

Then one day I got a text. “So I’m not in the best financial situation right now, so I need space, nothing to do with you. You’re perfect.” 

Now we are both adults so if you need space, I completely understand. I’m not trying to smother anyone. But something was fishy about this text. I’m not going to lie; I was a bit thrown off and slightly upset. If only from my pride alone, I was in shock.

I replied back, “Aw that sucks, I liked hanging with you, but I understand. If you need anything let me know.” A perfect response, I respected and empathized. A part of me wanted to reply:  “YOU DON’T EVEN SPEND MONEY!!!!!!” Literally he probably spent 100 dollars the entire two months we dated; there were no extravagant dates, flowers, diamonds or jewels! 

A few days passed and he decided to text me: “hey, how are you?” At this point, I was already over the situation. Out of boredom, I entertained his messages and invited him to my house. Things  between us were different. The things I used to find cute were now lame. It was if I could see right through him. The next day a friend told me she had recently seen him walking holding hands with a girl who wasn't me. He and the girl were out and about the day after he informed me of his strained financial situation. 

I laughed. 

I was not at all shocked. 

I didn't even care. 

Repeated experiences like this bring me back to that July morning of 2011. All of those sad and disgusted feelings return. However, I refuse to be that alley cat; I will never again make a man the center of my world until he gives me a reason to place him there. That first situation with Boo was tough, but it has made it a lot easier to deal with all the other stinky piles of shit that have come along. So much easier to let go and easier to see, men ain't shit.

Submitted by: NotYourAlleyKat

*term for someone who gets all the benefits of being your boyfriend but has none of the responsibilities

SHUT THE HELL UP, EVERYONE COPES DIFFERENTLY

I'm writing this post for anyone who has ever lost someone to death. Whether it be your mother, father, child, best friend, cousin, aunt, etc., if you've lost someone this post is for you.

Last week a 2-year old passed due to the heinous actions of a monster.  I won't mention the little boys name out of respect of his biological celebrity father who requested privacy. But I'm sure you know he played in a game Sunday much to the chagrin of spectators.

It was baffling to be logged into social media the day story broke and see the number of ignorant people comment on his decision to play. "If that was my child..." seriously you fixed your mouth to say this. First, this isn't your child. Second, people love to assume how they'd react when they have no knowledge of the exact feelings. Third, shut the hell up. Lastly, even if you've mourned the loss of a child, everyone copes differently, so shut the hell up.

This event brought up issues I had with people who felt the need to comment on the way I mourned my mother. I had comments ranging from those who didn't get how I kept going, to those who told me they couldn't imagine going through the same thing. As if I could have imagined anything like her passing happening to me. I'm not sure what response they were/are expecting from me, but most times I just remain silent and give an awkward grin.

I had a number of people tell me, "I don't know how you got through it" as a way to provide comfort. That shit is not comforting because all I did was pray. I pray everyday and  try and live a "normal" life in a situation that is not "normal". I have not gotten through anything. Everyday is a struggle. With some days better than others. But let's be clear here: the saying "time heals all wounds" is complete and utter bullshit. I feel like I'm always mourning my mother and this moment is a perfect example.

Telling someone who is going through something what you would and could not be able to handle is the most insensitive gibberish. "I don't know what I would do without my mother." Do you know how hard it is not to backhand someone who says shit like this to me? How someone fixes their mouth to reference themselves when others are mourning is beyond me. For a long time I just wanted to be alone. I didn't want to talk about it because I would hear dumb ass comments like these on a regular. These days, I am a much more open book. With so many chapters to share and one of those chapter include calling out people on their insensitivity.  I talk openly about reactions that annoy me because I don't want these idiotic ass comments made to other people. Please stop this nonsense! Do not judge what you do not understand.

If you are blessed to have both parents, or one parent, or a sister, or a child, or a best friend who happens to be a dog, cherish them. If you are looking for a way to comfort someone who is going through something, try empathy. Empathy is one of those tricky skills that can be readily executed but requires self awareness. Replacing "I know how you're feeling" with "I can empathize with how you're feeling" can go a long way. The latter recognizes that you do not in fact know what another person is going through but that you want to provide comfort. The former says strips the mourning of their unique feelings and emotions and imposes the self.

One last imparting piece of advice, realize that sometimes mourning never ends. Mourning can be a lifetime process. So watch your words. Chose them wisely. You never know who you'll inadvertently alienate by saying the first thing that comes to mind.

Note: This post is all over the place, I know. I had lot's to say but I'm at work so gotta go.

Courting in The Digital Age: Can I get your...?

After a long day at work I stopped into a local restaurant that sold cheap wraps. I do cook, every once in a while, but this while was not that time. As soon as I walk in I feel all eyes on me. Now, this tiny, hole in the wall establishment was being occupied by two male patrons. I won't call them men, because after my experience in the store there's no way I'd classify them as such.

I pull out my earphones, which at this point are a staple of my wardrobe. I never leave home without them.

The gentlemen behind the counter began to take my order and would end up putting together one of thee most delicious wraps I had ever had. While I was focused on making my time in the restaurant an efficient one, I could tell the two males behind me were looking me up and down. They sat quietly as I placed my order, waiting for a chance to get my attention.

While I was waiting for my wrap to be pressed to perfection, I hear one of the males say, "Are you a model?" I quickly surveyed the restaurant and confirmed the comment was meant for me seeing as though there were no other patrons present.

I turn his direction and find he and his young male friend looking me in the eye. I was pleased by their ability to make eye contact instead of continuing the eye survey they had been practicing moments prior. Being the kind person that I am, I responded to his inquiry.

"No, I am not a model. I am just tall."

Shocked and appalled by my failure to profit from my modelesque height and stature he exclaims, "You don't model! You're way too beautiful not to be a model!"

Let's put this statement in context: I was in Harlem, a place I am constantly verbally attacked and talked to in a way that make me like I am a nudist walking around the streets of Manhattan. This guys approach was refreshing so I took the statement as a compliment. There were no vulgar comments and he seemed genuinely surprised that I was in fact, not a model. So, I entertained additional comments and a conversation began.

"Where are you coming from?"

Hmm, I glance down at my clearly business casual attire and reply with a confused face, "I'm coming from work." I scrunch my face and turn away back to important matters, the aroma coming from my chicken wrap is making my stomach scream.

We exchange a few more sentences and my wrap is almost ready so the time is now or never for him to make his move.

"Can I get to know you?" he says noticing that my wrap is being brought to the register. "Ummm, how do you plan on doing that?" I reply.

"Can I get your Instagram?" he says in the most matter of fact way. He really thought to himself, self, you'd like to get to know this attractive young lady. You should ask for her number in a method that will facilitate getting to know her on another level. Instagram it is!

I chuckled

I asked, "How are you going to get to know me by following me on Instagram?" His quick reply, "I'm going to go through your account and like some pictures for a while and then ask for your number."

My face! MY FACE!! I scratched my head and for some reason continued the conversation, "Why didn't you just ask for my phone number?"

Now he's confused. He's wondering why the weak game that had worked on so many other young women was not getting him the response he desired. His voice got lower as he responds. "I want to crawl before I walk, ya know."

I tilt my head and reply to him, "Sweetheart, at this rate, you're still gestating."  I had to school this young male, so I continue. "I know its 2013 but a phone number is the way to go."

But I wasn't done there. "Can I ask how old you are?" I ask.

I was relieved to pick up on his body language and determine he was a confident young male and was not offended by my questioning. He looked intrigued by my push back.

"I'm 28."

Hold the front, back and side door. This male was a man by age. This twenty-eight year old male asked for my Instagram.

Moral of the story: When you walk into a restaurant in Harlem, keep your headphones in.

My first name aint baby, It's Beyonce, Mrs. Carter if you Nasty

Good afternoon my good people,

In the wake of the heavy week that is being (black) in America, I wanted to post something I find quite entertaining. I thought long and hard and  came up with one person who makes everything better (aside from my adorable nephew). This post is about Beyonce, Mrs. Carter if you nasty. Today I've been on a twitter rampage posting fun lyrics from the KingB herself in order to entertain myself and time-line. Also, followers probably need to get ready for weekend. I, on the other hand, have a race to get ready for. In both cases Beyonce is my go to.

Has anyone else ever listened to the lyrics of a Beyonce song*. The difference between Beyonce and Rihanna is in the delivery of their raunchiness. Both are a bit vulgar but one is more delicate in delivery while the other is just a plain old foul mouthed Rihanna. Whoops okay I gave it away.

Here are my top 10 SexyKingB lyrics:

1. "I'll be swirlin' on my babe. Swirlin, swirling on my babe. I'm gonna put my body on your body. Promise not to tell nobody 'Cause it's about to go down!" – Beyonce, Dance For You
2.  "Ladies, if you love your man show him you the flyest. Grind up on it, girl, show him how you ride it." Beyonce, Dance For You
3. “I'm a grown woman. So I know how to ride it. And I'm so erotic I'm a grown woman. Look down, got you so excited I'm a grown woman.” Beyonce, Grown Woman
4. “It's too big, it's too wide It's too strong, it won't fit It's too much, it's too tough I talk like this 'cause I can back it up.” – Beyonce, Ego
5. "Keep it right there, Oh, wait, wait, yeah. Keep it right there. You driving me crazy .–Destiny’s Child, T-Shirt
6. "Hey Baby I Wish You Could See What I Have On Right Now. You So Sexy. Imagine How Intense It Would Be. To Hold Me Right Now.” – Destiny’s Child, T-Shirt
7. “I'm feelin' seeeeeeexy. I wanna hear you say my name boy. If you can reach me. You can feel my burning flame.” – Beyonce, Naughty Girl
8. "A woman in the street and a freak in the you know what. Sit back, sit back, it's the pre-game show. Daddy you know what's up!" – Beyonce, Dance For You
9. "Temptation's is callin' I be wantin' you so bad I could cry." – Destiny’s Child, Temptation
10. “Go girl (go girl). She got that bomb (that bomb), That girl can get whatever she wants. Go girl (hey girl), She got that tight (that tight). Them boys, They do whatever she like. – Beyonce, Grown Woman

Honorable mention: 11. When you put it on it's an invitation, when they play your the song get on up and shake it, Work it out on your man you don't have to waste it, Spin it all around then take it to the ground." Beyonce, Freakum Dress

Beyonce song - I'm including all Destiny Child's songs as well since she get's credit for those as well....I care not if she did or did not actually write them

Sidenote: I am Unapologetic[ally]" a fan "4" both Mrs. Carter and the Good Girl Gone Bad. See what I did there.

Happy Friday

No Sex And The City, Part 1

While I have enjoyed writing about everything else going on in my life aside from dating, I feel like I haven't been completely honest. I am not defined by who I date, but I do feel writing about it is pretty therapeutic. In order to make up for lost time, I'm doing a two part post about my dating experience in The City. This is part 1.

When I started this blog several years ago, I proudly titled myself 'The Serial Dater.' This blog was also the launch pad for my group blog 'I Hate The Way You Eat Cereal,' which only lasted for a few short-lived seasons. I had so much material at the time. Even Kanye West would have to agree, I had one of the best serial dating blogs of all time. I'd meet a guy and date the heck out of him before moving on to the next. There weren't really breaks in between. I remember a time when I had four dates, with four different men in the same week. Each guy wanted to take me out and do their best to impress. What can I say, I was a hot commodity.

Over the last couple of years however, 'The Serial Dater' has slowly been dying. The demise of my alter ego has not gone unnoticed by friends and followers. I do not apologize for not adhering to the hefty title I bestowed upon myself many years ago. Things change. People change. Life changes people. I do however apologize for consciously holding back some of my thoughts for fear that I would be turning over power. You want some truth, there it is.

My routine of singing Beyonce's, Irreplaceable  and shouting 'to the left, to the left' after I break things off doesn't quite fit where I am in my life.  "I can have another you in a minute, matter fact he'll be here in a minute." And it was true. I could have another him and him and him in a minute. And he honestly was on his way, he'll be here in a minute. But that was true over three years ago. These days, not so much.

Adele's album 21 however was the soundtrack for several months over the past couple of years. I had the album on constant repeat. You pick a song and I have sang it at the top of my lungs. Either mentally on a train or externally in the shower. (Damn you New York for taking my ability to sing in my car while people look at me confused and impressed at the same time away.) Adele wrote 21 just for me, I know it. I can't even select one song that captures how I felt because most of the album conveys the exact reason 'the Serial Dater' has died. I don't date*. The issues I'm facing when it comes to dating is multifaceted.

First, dating in New York is nothing like Sex And The City. In Sex And The City, Carrie always had a love interest. Even if that love interest changed from season to season. Or even episode to episode, the one constant commonality is that she was dating. (We're going to use Carrie as the example because she was the best character on the show if we're being honest.)  In my reality, I haven't dated a guy since last year. Gasps! What?!! I know I know. It's crazy right.  There's another layer here that I have to save for another time. It's coming though.

Second, dating in New York is everything like Sex And The City. Carrie met Mr. Big. Carrie fell for Mr. Big. Carrie broke things off with Mr. Big for what seemed like a completely valid reason at the time. Carrie still harbored feelings for Mr. Big...


*date - Go out with the same guy more than a few times.

Saartjie (Sarah) Baartman and Steatopygia are real

Just check Wikipedia if you don't know what I'm talking about. It's Friday so I won't write a complete post (again) but this is what I'm reading up on today. I can't wait to explain all of this to my kids.

No sarcasm.

Each one teach one.

Have a good weekend!

Serve Whom?

I miss the Cosby show so much and this episode right here is so relevant, two decades after its original showing. I could write more, maybe I will later. Until then, view the clip.

How Do You Stay In Shape

Friend: Wow, Silent you have an amazing shape. How do you keep your figure?

Me: Well, you know I run either in the mornings or after work and I watch what I eat most of the time so you know, there's that.

Friend: *scrunches face* I could never do that.

Me: Okay (*thinks to self* You seem to enjoy being out of shape anyway so keep munching on fast food and drinking those high caloric drinks if you choose.)


---------------------

During these types of conversations, which spike during the warmer seasons, I sometimes end the conversation with okay and change the subject. I'm not sure why people think there is a secret to staying in shape. No I don't take Herbalife, partake in body wraps or any of those other fad weight controlling products. Trust me if there was a secret to being fit, I'd share it.

My physique is a combination of genetics (being 6 foot means if I gain 5 lbs, I'm probably the only person to notice.) and hard work. I'm a long distance runner. Well actually I fall somewhere along the spectrum of runner and jogger depending on the day and how the wind is blowing. Lately, it doesn't matter how I feel because November is rapidly approaching and I need to be able to run 26.2 miles without taking a 12 hour break. So I force myself to run, even when I don't actually feel like running.

In conjunction with running like crazy, I go to the gym and lift weights sporadically through out the week. Sometimes I do a few crunches (read: between 50-200 ) before going to sleep at night.

So you know, I go to work.

I end conversations like the one above with an 'okay' when a person says they don't have time to work out the way I do. If you're okay with your shape and the ways your clothes fit, so be it. You like it, I love it. Other times, when I'm not completely ignoring people's inconsistent actions vs words in regards to their fitness, I give tips and encourage others to change their habits. As mentioned previously, I lost my mother to heart disease at a young age which means this is not a topic I take lightly if you're in my life. When I do speak up, it comes from a genuine place of concern and love. You can almost tell how much I care about you by the interest and input I put into a discussion about health and fitness. When I care, I care a lot. I can be a bit much. I'm sure it can be overwhelming and possibly annoying.  

The moral of the story is: Don't ask me questions you don't want to know the answer to.

The other moral of the story is..it's Friday and therefore I am not going to proof read or edit this post.

The other other moral of the story is...before you complain about your health or weight, take a good look about the food you're using to fuel your body and how you take care of the only one you get. Yeah a good long, hard, honest look.



On a brighter note, I plan to wear crop tops, shorts and sun dresses all summer so if you see a 6 foot tall woman roaming the streets of NYC basking in the glory that is hard work, say hello. It's me.

Go Back to School They Say

Go back to school, they say. 
 
You'll have more opportunities, they say. 
The number of jobs available to you will grow immensely, the say. 
It'll pay for itself, they say. 
Expand your knowledge base and become an authority in a field you're passionate about, they say.  

They said so much when I said I had a strong desire to go back to school. I thought I did it the right way. I waited several years and did lots of research into the field I was interested in. Unfortunately, I've found out the hard way, that they didn't say everything. 

You may not find employment right after graduation, they didn't say. 
The amount of money you borrow may seem impossible to pay back, they didn't say. 
Sometimes you may find yourself unable to secure positions you're more than qualified because you're too educated, they didn't say.
You may have to dumb down your résumé to keep a roof over your head and food in your mouth, they didn't say. 
Moving home may be necessary at some point, they didn't say. 
You may question yourself at times, they didn't say.

I am sure I made the right decision by quitting my well paying job and going back to school. But honestly sometimes, I question my decision. I didn't imagine how difficult it would be to properly express to employers that I am able to excel at the positions I apply for.  Understanding that it takes more time for some opposed to others has been my most pressing issue. Finding my patience and acceptance of my path is an ongoing process. 

I will keep applying to jobs and working my network, I say. 
I won't feel defeated if I end up back in LA, I say.
Once I get my foot in the door my skills and experience will shine, I say. 
I'm going to use my degree to my advantage and affect the change I desire, I say. 
I've come this far by faith so I will trust in the lord, I say.
Watch me work, I say

Go back to school if you've done the research and are sure about what you're getting yourself into, I say.