Does anyone have any duct tape?

I am a firm believer that duct tape will fix most anything. I am in need of desperate repairs. I seem to have acquired a broken heart and need to wrap it up tight in a large amount of duct tape. I told that stupid boy, the stupid boy that I somehow managed to fall in love with through all of this, that if he can't respect me or bring a fraction of what I do to the table to PLEASE leave me alone. I told that stupid boy that I would not call him or text him again. That if I hear from him it will be because he wants me in his life. I told him I wasn't putting a time frame on when this decision had to be made, but I wasn't going to keep working so hard for something his actions suggest that he doesn't want regardless of what his words are saying. This was not my smartest move. I thought I was being bold and standing up for myself again. What I have instead done is put myself back in the land of limbo. What I have done is allowed myself to sit here wondering if he will call, hoping he will call, all the while knowing that he probably won't. Am dumb, am sad, am a hopeless romantic.

I've hardly been eating for the last month. Skipping meals has taken on a whole new meaning. Some days all I'll have had by the time dinner rolls around is an apple and maybe a protein bar. When I eat dinner I eat very little before I just can't bring myself to take another bite. I probably only sit down to the table to attempt it so that mom doesn't go bat shit crazy over how I'm not eating, talking, living. The fucked up part of that is that I'm not losing weight. Well, not as much as you would expect after a month of this. I got on mom's scale this morning and am officially under 350, but I don't know how that compares to the scale I was using at the gym before classes started. Ah, ya caught me, still haven't been to the gym since the last you heard. This term is kicking my ass in ways only Oscar De La Hoya can comprehend. There are only four weeks left to it and then I believe I have three weeks off for the holidays. Next term I will only have to go to campus on Mondays and Tuesdays and then will have a couple online classes as well. This should help my ability to get to the gym. I hope.

I have not given up. I've steered clear of a lot of the fast food my schedule would normally have me partaking in and I've even omitted a lot of ice cream from my life. Afterall, I used to eat Ben & Jerry's with that stupid boy at his house. So, about that duct tape?

Life raft anyone?

I'm struggling. Big time. I'm hardly sleeping, hardly eating, hardly keeping my head above water. I'm sad. I'm lonely. I'm stressed. I'm...drowning.

School is fucking insane. I haven't weighed since the gain of a couple weeks ago. Insertnamehere and I haven't seen each other in two weeks and it's likely not going to change anytime soon. Sadly, that's not so much my fault as it is his. He's just as busy as I am and, well, I'm/we/this is on the back burner for a while so that he can sort some things out. I miss him. I miss the escape that spending time with him provided. I miss how he calms me and right now, I need a lot of calming. I'm on edge. I'm going to snap. I'm scheduling a breakdown for about 1:30 this afternoon. Should be fun.

On that note, back to homework. It's all I do these days. All day, and often all night. All week and all weekend. Mama needs a break, but not for another 8 weeks. FML.

Rain delay

She took her sweet time getting here, but (sorry boys) the playground is flooded. It started raining just before I went to Insertnamehere's house yesterday. By the time I got there I had some fairly annoying cramps, but they weren't that bad. I asked him for some of his ibuprofen, but he was out. Lovely. A couple hours later all hell broke loose on my insides. Kids were using my uterus as a trampoline. Little girls with pigtails were using my fallopian tubes for double dutch. My ovaries had clearly fallen prey to a rousing game of dodgeball.

I was sitting next to Insertnamehere on the couch. I was trying to do homework, but couldn't concentrate. I had to keep leaning forward to put pressure of some kind on my baby maker. He asked if I wanted him to go to the store. I said, "No, no, it'll pass." A few minutes later, "Are you sure?" I let out a groan, "No, no, I'm alright." An hour later I'd had enough, "So, yeah, that ibuprofen is sounding better by the minute." He jumped up and was on the road within seconds. He came home with ibuprofen, creamer for my coffee in the morning, and Ben & Jerry's which he expeditiously dished up as I laid on my stomach on the hardwood floor so that I could use my extraordinary amount of weight to push all my bits into the ground. He came out to the living room with ice cream in hand and I laid on the floor waiting for the drugs to kick in, wishing someone would punch me in the uterus to get it to relax, trying to enjoy my ice cream. I'd like to say it was heaven, but not so much. They hit me like a mack truck, but thanks to my hero, they eventually subsided and I was able to partake in some serious cuddling.

Why am I writing about this? Because tomorrow is weigh in day again and I'm hoping to hell that her terribly timed appearance and the agony of last night will some how pay off for me in the morning. School threw off my eating on a couple days and most certainly threw off my workouts this week and I could really use something great on the scale tomorrow. Something to help me push forward and continue to put in the work with everything I have on my plate right now. So, I'm paying my penance this weekend and hoping that tomorrow is the big reward. I'm off to get some more ibuprofen. Good Jesus.

I'll take Fat Girl Ailments for $800, Alex.

Alex: shin splints, plantar fasciitis, lower back pain, bad knees, lack of energy, and sometimes, TOM.

Me: What are reasons fat girls give to get out of a workout? I'll take Fat Girl Ailments for $1000, Alex.

Alex: diabetes, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and infertility to name a few.

Me: What are reasons a fat girl should give a damn?

I have somehow found my groove at the gym this go round. All of the things that ail me and cause me to quit have not been bothering me TOO much. I can really only attribute this to less time on the treadmill. To getting my cardio minutes in on 3 different machines instead of just one. World o' difference. It's just so hard on a good day to be there doing the things I need to do, but when everything I do is riddled with some sort of pain it's only natural that I'm going to eventually get tired of it and quit. I've gone to the gym 5 days a week for two weeks now. Today was a day off, but tomorrow I will be there bright and early for my workout and my weigh in.

Girl's night was ok. I ended up having one drink so I didn't pick up the ice cream I was planning to take over to Insertnamehere's. He and I did surprisingly well considering he had just met with his soon to be ex wife and was super cranky when he called. I like that I can provide some sort of calming effect. I like that he smiles when he sees me even after a crappy day. I like that when we hang out all of the outside crap seems less important, even if only for a few hours. We both need that right now.

Tomorrow school starts back up. Eff me. There are three things that I have to somehow manage to keep as priorities along with school. My weight loss (natch), the freelance graphic design business I've started with a classmate, and Insertnamehere. How in the hell I'm going to swing it all is not entirely clear, but I've been trying to devise plans. My classmate and I are going to meet on campus before classes a few times a week to stay on track with the business. Insertnamehere and I are going to get through the next couple of insane weeks and then sit down and figure out at least one day that we know we're going to see each other every week and plan for it. If other days can happen, all the better, but at least we'll have one day a week that is dedicated to this friendship. What I eat on Tuesdays and Thursdays might be a crap shoot, but my classes shouldn't get in the way of the other days. I am planning to try to hit the gym on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at least and do Wii fitness games on the other days. That will be subject to change as I see what my schedule brings. Pray for me!

Tally, Ho.

I was at Insertnamehere's house this morning (more on that later). I was dressed for the gym. I didn't want to go to the gym. But, I had to go because I needed the scale. Today is weigh in day. This guy suggested that I start with 10 minutes, see how I feel, and if it wasn't good, I could stop. We had an accord. I went in with an open mind. I planned to get on the scale before and after my workout to see what the difference was (ended up being a pound worth of difference). I did the treadmill for 10 minutes. I did the recumbent bike for 20 minutes. I did the elliptical for 10 minutes. Mama's legs were weak. I carefully made my way back to the scale. And what's the tally, Ho? I lost 4.5 pounds. 356.1. Down 9.9 pounds. Word.

Insertnamehere and I finally talked yesterday. First on the phone, then at his house. A lot was said, mostly by me. I broke out some good stuff. Like a grown up even. Things fresh out of some movie, I'm sure, like, "I'm not trying to save you. I'm trying to be your friend and help you save yourself." When the conversation seemed to be winding down he said he wanted to ask me something. I was nervous. I thought he was going to ask for his key back. He said, "Can we just go hold hands and watch Shrek now?" I smiled, told him that he sucked, and he agreed. Backstory: about a month ago when we were talking on the phone he told me that he and his 2.5 year old daughter were holding hands and watching Shrek. I told him that sounded awesome and I wanted to. He said we would, but hadn't yet. Now we have. Before we actually started watching the movie I hugged him and whispered, "Can we just go back to how it was before, Papi?" He said he would like that. Then I asked him to please talk to me when he started freaking out again so that we didn't end up here again. He agreed. We shall see. Boys are still stupid.

On another note, I find it slightly creepy that just a few days ago I had two posts that referenced Dirty Dancing and Patrick Swayze and today he lost his battle to cancer. This happens to me a lot. Just sayin'.

How many calories do you burn wallowing in your own self-pity?

Though you would think laying in bed from 6 pm until 8 am tossing and turning, reeling from internal strife, fighting to sleep, unable to stop your brain from spinning would burn innumerable amounts of calories, the fact is...it won't. The chances of it doing you any good at all are about as good as my chances of winning the title of Miss. Fitness USA. Last night I went downstairs to eat dinner after my last entry and made the executive decision to not eat. I wasn't hungry. Instead, I came upstairs and crawled in bed. I wallowed. I stewed. I came up with all these things I should say, but likely won't. I came up with questions and made up my own answers. I toggled ever so efficiently between angry and sad. For those that think I'm a hot mess in need of medication, I'm not. This is just what I do when my life is in limbo. I think I've mentioned this before, but fat girls can't limbo. I like definitive answers. I like knowing where I stand and what's around the corner. I like having some sense of control. Yesterday I felt like I had none. Toss in the fact that the height of the limbo bar has been set by someone I care a lot about and this is the result.

He and I were supposed to talk last night; we didn't. After a few texts about how we WOULD be talking last night, I got one that said we wouldn't be. It was the last night that his cousin would be staying there and they were "talking about life." What I wanted to say in response was, "Don't call me for a while," or "Have another beer and fuck off." Instead, a simple "Goodnight, Insertnamehere." His name is nearly always replaced with a term of endearment when I address him, so, the simple fact that I used his name probably got my point across without me lowering myself to levels I'd regret. I figured I'd wait until this morning and see how I felt. This is progress for me. And what was the result? I took back some of the control. I determined what height the bar would be set today. I gave his indecisive "time out" the middle finger and told him that I didn't want to talk to him the rest of today, or tomorrow for that matter. I wasn't going to sit here waiting for texts or calls that likely wouldn't happen. He has company in town tonight so I doubt it's going to affect him all that much, but it made all the difference for me. He said everyone (company, cousin, daughter) would be gone tomorrow night and things would be more settled. That we could talk. He sounded sad. I hung up.

I started cleaning, frantically, if I may say so. Dust bunnies called for backup as I tore through my room on a mission. Cardio, no? I turned on the Wii and fired up My Fitness Trainer to put some time in with Maya. I almost threw a dumbbell at the screen as she nagged me about missing my sessions lately. Look, bitch, I've been checking in daily getting workout credit for what I've been doing at the gym. Just because I haven't wanted to workout with YOUR ass, does NOT a slacker make. I did a 30 minute workout with her that focused on flexibility. Now I'm all stretched out and ready for some limbo. Anyone?

Flight Risk

When someone is deemed a flight risk it means that there is a good chance they are going to run, at their first opportunity, from something they are being held accountable for. Right now, I am a flight risk. I've been trying to do the right thing for me over the last few weeks; to eat better and be better, but it has been a struggle. I am not in the "zone" that usually has me professing some renewed sense of determination. I am far from it. Every bit of it has been a struggle. Today? I didn't even want to get out of bed.

Today I wanted to sleep until things were resolved. If I just kept sleeping then I wouldn't be thinking, dwelling, worrying. I wanted to hide. Instead I got out of bed, even if late, and I slowly got dressed. I drove, almost dazed, to the gym. I sat in the parking lot once I got there, not wanting to go in. I eventually did, but everything was a challenge. I got in a very weak 30 minutes of cardio and then I left. I usually like it when I'm there and feel proud when I leave. I didn't this time.

I wanted to hit fast food on the way home, but got Subway instead. I didn't enjoy it. I've been sitting in my room since I got home with no motivation to do anything. I go between wanting to eat everything in the house and never wanting to eat again. I'm going to go have dinner of some sort and then probably go to bed. If I had a passport I'd suggest that someone take it. I should be remanded without bail.

(Not having) The Time of My Life

Sadly, Baby is still waiting for her memorable dance scene. He did call as promised. We did talk. He still doesn't know what to do. He basically agreed with everything I said. He told me that I've done everything right; that I've made it easy...but that when all he's ever had has been hard, easy is scaring him. Liking me so much is scaring him. How perfect it is...is scaring him. I may or may not have driven 40 minutes one way to his shop tonight just to get a hug and then turned around, walked out, and drove back home. He's supposed to call me tomorrow.

Nobody puts Baby in a corner

Last night I was left sitting in a proverbial corner, feeling unimportant, feeling like an afterthought. Last night was rough. Last night I was torn between the girl I used to be and the the woman I am now. Last night I was conflicted over whether or not I stand up for myself or sit idly by as someone treated me less than I deserve simply because they are going through a tough time. What is the appropriate way to respond to someone who typically treats you so well when they have a lapse in judgement? How do you make it clear that what has happened is not ok while still coming across as understanding of their situation? Where is my Patrick Swayze to stand up for me?

The girl formerly known as Doormat would have just sat there all night, waiting for him to get home, and wouldn't have said anything. She would have had an attitude and when asked what was wrong she would have blurted out a snippy, "Nothing!" and answered every other question with an equally snarky one word retort. She wouldn't have stood up for herself. She would have spent months of her life being treated badly until one day he got a new doormat.

The woman I am now? Well, she made it known that it wasn't ok. She took off for a while and went to the gym (that's gym, not Taco Bell). She went to clear her head and prayed that some aerobic bliss would tame the beast that was inside her at that moment. The beast remained, but more of a petting zoo than an african safari. I went back. When he got home we talked. I wasn't mean. I wasn't snarky. I didn't have an attitude. I can't say my sarcastic core didn't shine, but I didn't say it out loud and I consider that progress any day of the week.

When we woke up it suddenly got a bit harder. Time outs were talked about. It stung. It left me speechless (even the snarky ones I'm usually so proficient in). It left me feeling like I was the one that did something wrong. I couldn't get out of his house fast enough. I know why he said it, but it was still confusing. My friend feels bad for how he made me feel last night and feels like he's taking advantage of me. My friend is going through a lot. He is conflicted with feelings he has for me (whatever those are) because he doesn't feel like his life is conducive to liking someone right now. He doesn't want to leave me in the wake that his life could leave behind all the while forgetting that I'm a big girl and I can swim (I just don't look good in a swimsuit). He is trying to figure out who he is as he goes through a divorce and gets his life back in order. My friend has spent so much time with a woman that gave him nothing that he has no idea what to do with a woman that would give him everything. My friend? Is scared.

My friend has told me that I'm the sunshine through the clouds. He tells me what a good woman I am, how beautiful I am, how caring I am. My friend goes a couple days without seeing me and then can't stop telling me how much he missed me, how good it is to see me, how glad he is I'm there. I sometimes look up and catch him just looking at me with a slight smile on his face, saying nothing and everything all at once. Content. Happy. I wish he would just see that what he and I have is easy. What we have isn't complicated. It isn't drama. It's two people enjoying each other and trying to help each other get through two lives that are NOT easy and are all kinds of complicated. I wish he would believe that he deserves to have some of that aforementioned sunshine sometimes, that he should get out of his own way and let someone make him happy. I wish my friend understood that bailing because you like someone is, well, stupid.

So there you have it. The reason my lil Twitter updates proclaimed a rough night, skipping dinner, tears, and a breakfast of McDonald's. Did I mention that I took off and went to the gym instead of burying my head in the pint of B&J he had in his freezer? Just trying to make you forget that whole McDonald's debacle. He and I are supposed to talk tonight. I don't know what time out means. He didn't even know what time out meant when I asked. I just know he doesn't want his key back so I guess that's promising. I'm hoping it goes well, but in the event that it doesn't, you all should take out stock in B&J quick!

Bow chicka bow wow

That's what you hear in every good weak plotted porn movie. Or, at least that's the sound everyone makes when they are referencing good weak plotted porn movies. It pertains to the cheesy music playing in the background while the pizza boy gets paid or the maid shows how well she can wax on while he wax off. If you engage in a conversation with your friends and you, too, hear "Bow chicka bow wow" they are suggesting that someone, likely you, is destined to get laid (see the comment on my last post from Tricia for proper usage and punctuation).

Last night I had my "date" with Alex. I use that word loosely. Like, Paris Hilton loosely. We were just two friends hanging out. Two friends that happened to sit at the same table to eat Thai and sit next to each other to watch a movie. We might as well have been brother and sister for all the action I got (Uh, excluding states like Arkansas where "Bow chicka bow wow" is heard at family reunions). We went Dutch (see what I did there? I'm dutch. He's dutch.) as all good friends do. He didn't open any doors for me or waste time trying to impress me with his impeccable table manners. At no point during the movie did he take my hand that was resting on my leg next to him. He did ask if I wanted anything when he went to get a snack during the previews (he just inhaled his Thai food like he's from a family of 12 and learned to fight for every bit of rice, but OK, go get a snack) and he did offer me some of his licorice. He did have his leg touching mine throughout the movie and did occasionally brush his arm against me. He may or may not have looked over at me during the movie, but he also could have been looking at someone else for as good as my peripheral vision is. It was either like two nervous teenagers on a first date knowing that dad was two rows behind them watching their every move or it was two grown ass adults one of which couldn't catch a clue if Miss. Scarlet handed it to him in the library with a signed confession wrapped around the candlestick.

I'm not sure how pertinent the events leading up to this date are to this post. The abridged version is that I overheard a conversation between he and Laura that went a little something like "I'm not even thinking about relationships right now. Focusing on school. I've been burned. Woes me. Just wanna start as friends and see what happens." At which point she suggested to him that we hang out, catch a movie and kiss. A few days later he's telling me that we should hang out. Yesterday we do. There was no kissing. There was a goodbye hug and a suggestion by him that the hanging out continue, but certainly no kissing. There were also lots of texts in my inbox from Laura suggesting that she could hear adorable little Dutch babies being made. Bow chicka bow wow indeed.

So there you have it; my strictly platonic non-date with Alex. And since I know you come here for my tragic attempts at weight loss not my tragic attempts at love, who wants to tell me how I'm going to lose 50 pounds before the end of September? Anyone? Anyone?

Quick and dirty post

Alex and I are going to hang out tonight; just he and I.

Waving my white flag

I surrender, or quit rather. The responses I got last night from Alex were as follows:

Alex: No I did not know that. That's funny though...people always like to gossip.

Me: Daniel has been telling me to ask you out all day. What's that about?

Alex: I didn't say anything to him...I don't know what to say.

Me: Interesting. I guess I get Daniel harassing me and you get Laura. They probably won't stop until we're making out in a back room somewhere knowing them.

As of 11:30 last night...that's where we left it. And, to be honest, that's where we're going to leave it. My Gemini ways have me already getting bored. If anything ever happens it will be because he grew a pair and repeaked my interest because right now he's dropping back down to "just friends" status.

Did I mention that I went to 24 hour fitness on Tuesday? No, of course I didn't. I'm only posting about the ways of stupid socially inept boys these days because that and school are all I've focused on lately. Well, I did. I got a 7 day pass and went to use it. All the sales people were gone for the night so she just gave me a day use pass and said to come back and we'd initiate the 7 day pass. Whatevs. I worked out and realized I don't like that gym. It's one of the Lance Armstrong Super Sport versions and it's the only one between school and home that's somewhat easy to get to. It was packed, it was way too stuffy in there, and it's more expensive to join a super sport than a sport. No thanks. It was nice to be back at it, though. To feel like I'm making an effort again. I've lost a little at the last few WW meetings, but will only be going until the middle of next month. Can't afford the $40 a month with the way unemployment is fucking me these days. I'm so broke I'm taking summer classes just to try and get more financial aid money so I can live. Oddly though, I'm still not stressed out. It's like the day I decided I wasn't going to let all these things get me down...they didn't. Is that because I'm stronger or more at ease with things being out of my control? I don't know. Maybe I'm just so used to bad things happening that I'm unable to give a shit anymore. Either way, not caring is nice right now.

I have about one more week of classes for this term and it's going to be a rough one. There are a lot of projects due that involve a lot of work. After that I have two weeks off before summer classes start. My plan for summer was to really focus (like last summer) on losing as much weight as I can. It would be nice to go back to school in the fall and have people do a double take. We'll see what me, good food choices, my wii, and walking out at my brother's can do for me because I likely won't be able to join a gym just yet. Wish me luck, I could use some.

I got rocks like Gibraltar

The Rock of Gibraltar is a mass of land made of limestone off of the southwestern tip of Europe. It is 1,396 feet high and borders Spain. My rocks? Are bigger. I got balls, yo. Not only have I invited Alex to a couple things now that have lead to the successful exchange of phone numbers, but today I texted him and said, "People seem consumed by the topic of Alex and Kelly did you know that? Lots of talk about being convinced that you like me and yet I'm oblivious to it. Do they have intel I don't?" I know. I don't believe it either. Here is where you're probably wondering what his response was. So are my friends, I assure you, and so am I. I haven't gotten one. I just sent it a couple hours ago while he was in class and I know for a fact that he's not as glued to his cell phone as I am. Lord only knows when I'll get a response.

You see, Daniel was pressuring me all day about the fact that I need to just ask Alex out. That Alex isn't going to do it because he has no game. Agreed, he does not; however, I am not bold enough to just ask him out. This was my very own version of getting to the bottom of things without making myself look like a complete ass and having everything crazy awkward for the next year. I've simply made an inquiry. I haven't confessed a rumored crush. I haven't asked him out only to be rejected. I've simply asked if what everyone ELSE thinks is true...is. Hee.

The boy is told to kiss me and then he still walks me to my car knowing full well that everyone is going to THINK he kissed me? I've told the boy he's adorable and he only talks to me more? We're having a critique in class and there are empty chairs everywhere. Who does he sit by? Me. These are just a few of the reasons Daniel swears that Alex likes me. Daniel says he knows men and this man likes me.

I feel like this is a win/win for me. Alex will either sac up and tell me that it's true and we'll get married, honeymoon in Holland and have little left handed, dutch, graphic design babies OR Alex will tell me that it's all absurd and complete bullshit and I will have proved Daniel wrong. Sweet victory, my friends, sweet victory. Regardless, if my socially inept friend ever checks his texts and responds, this is getting resolved ASAP. That's how I roll.

Why don't boys come with spec sheets?

Today started with an interview. An interview for a Graphic Design Internship with the marketing department of my school. I wowed them, naturally, and they told me that I would most definitely be successful in this line of work. Problem is, I am currently enrolled with some of the most talented people this school has seen. They even said so. That the caliber of work that we, as first year students, are producing is mind blowing. Roughly stated: competition abounds for this job. Whatevs.

The day progressed with me working up the nerve to say something to the boy regarding last weeks events. The nerve to put myself out there and suggest that Laura might not have been completely off base with her comments. My first and second attempts to be alone with him were thwarted as other people came up to me just as he was about to go by. Damn my burdensome popularity. Both times he stopped and talked, but no way was I going to say what I had to say in front of other people.

Well, about a half hour ago I got my opportunity. I sat at the table outside of lab knowing that he would come in before heading to his class next door. I was working on projects and he came up. We talked about school and I suddenly didn't want to do it. I REALLY didn't want to do it. I had what I wanted to say somewhat planned out, but wasn't sure if I'd be able to eloquently execute it. I had told a couple of the friends that I was going to say something to him and now, there was no turning back. All or nothin'. Go big or go home.

"Soooo, I just wanted to apologize for Laura last week (pause for his reaction and comment suggesting we were on the same page). I don't know what all got said, but I DO know about the napkin (insert his laughter and surprise that I knew). And ummm, it might have been my fault (laugh). Laura has some mission to find a guy for me, and, uh, I may or may not have told her that I thought you were adorable."

Fuck me, that was awkward.

He told me that it was ok, that he had a good time, etc., etc. He was about to head into class, but stopped and sat with me instead. He showed me what he was turning in today and we talked about school some more. Nothing about my comments was mentioned. No professions of his mutual assessment of my adorableness. No suggestions of coffee were made. It was as if I'd said nothing.

I don't know if he sat down because he wanted to be there or if he felt like he had to be. I don't know if the feeling is mutual or if he's just merely flattered and being polite. I don't know if what I said was all he needed to hear to have the confidence to proceed or if he's a completely daft prick and completely didn't understand the magnitude of what just happened. I do know...that I kind of feel like an ass, but do appreciate that he sat down with me regardless of the reasoning behind it.

It's time...to blog it out.

Journaling, for me, has always been a way to clear my head and get said things I might never be able to verbalize to anyone else. For me, it's therapy that money can't buy. This blog is the only journal I work on these days. Here, though, I edit myself and use a filter 85% of the time; careful not to say too much or be too inappropriate. I carefully try to balance sharing my life with not sharing too much. Letting readers in without letting them get too close. Today I'm throwing out all filters and getting to the core of some things.

I don't know how to let people get close to me. I've been treated badly, very badly, in my past and now I have walls up that might have served China well a few centuries ago. I am more guarded than the Queen of England only without all the ceremonial b.s. getting in the way of the task at hand. This gets in the way of trying to establish relationships.

I'm fat. I know. I just found out myself. Though I'm far greater at presenting self-confidence than I used to be, I am often overwhelmed with feelings of self-doubt, self-loathing, and self-consciousness. This works against me on so many levels when it comes to men. On the rare occasion that someone does peak my interest, I presume that, at my size, I don't stand a chance despite my sparkling personality. This means I'm not going to make any bold moves to make my intentions known. On the flip side, if the same guy shows me any signs that he is interested, I don't have the first clue how to deal with it. I misread the signs as him just being nice. I convince myself that it can't be possible. I give him no chance to proceed because I make it seem like it's the last thing I could possibly want despite how much I might. This gets in the way of trying to establish relationships.

When I am with someone, I can't verbalize how I feel. Often times, I don't even know how I feel, but mostly, I feel like if I actually SAID how much I liked someone that they would take that as their opportunity to hurt me. That it would be ammo in a very fucked up gunfight where I never win. Conversely, if I never admit how much I might care, then I can't get hurt. If I don't say it, then I don't care. Kind of like my philosophy on illnesses. If the doctor hasn't told me I have X, then I must not have X...despite the fact that I just plain haven't been to the doctor. Oddly, guys don't like this. They need reaffirming and ego stroking. This gets in the way of trying to establish relationships.

Are we seeing a trend? Are we beginning to understand why I'm single and why last night was so awkward for me? It's like I'd almost rather he'd have made it clear that he's not interested. That he just would have said to Laura, "I'm flattered, but I don't think it's a good idea." That's a reaction I'm oddly capable of dealing with. Like I was hoping that WAS my phone number he was pushing back across the table. If he'd have done that, then I wouldn't have to figure out how to let someone get close to me. If he'd have done that, then this would all be over and I wouldn't have to continue wondering if there are bright neon signs that I am misconstruing as friendship. If he'd done that, I could concentrate on my homework instead of obsessing with everything I did wrong last night. Believe me, that list is getting long. I'm a hot mess, people, a hot mess.