Once a Skinny Girl Always a Bigger Girl

(I could have written more on this subject but it have gone on, so forgive me if I seem to be leaving out thoughts and ideas).

For the majority of my life, I’ve been a skinny girl. Not just kind of thin, but I a stick in high school and I wore double zero jeans. Which prompted my college friends who glanced at old prom photos of me to ask if I had been anorexic:

No, I wasn’t anorexic. I was just a really thin kid. My fathers side of the family hasn’t always been the best gift givers in the generic trait gifting department, between the shortness, the ingrown toenails and the crooked teeth, acne I got one wonderful generic trait that everyone on my father’s side has: “a fast metabolism.” My dads side of the family is the “on the go” kind of people, were cooking is never a concern for them. They would rather be outside running, riding dirt bikes or cycling. So I was lucky to eat whatever I wanted and gain nothing. It also helped I rode dirt bikes on weekends, played on club soccer team, ran cross country and track and really never sat still for a minute as a child.

Growing up I was a tomboy. There was no room for dresses or nice shoes in elementary school. Those clothing items only got in the way of recess sports. I wanted to play sports with the boys and prove I was much faster and more athletic than all of them. (I always was). Sports were a huge aspect of my life as a child due to the fact that I wasn’t great in the school. My learning disability made me quite and take a back seat in class, but sports I discovered was something I excelled at from an early age. So no dresses, no fancy shoes, no cute braids in my hair. My mother always tells me how badly she wanted to dress me up when I was young, but I would always just squirm out of everything. When I was away at school she would randomly send me clothes because she was so excited that finally I wanted to wear the cute dresses and boots and put on make

When I was away at school she would randomly send me clothes because she was so excited that finally I wanted to wear the cute dresses and boots and put on makeup.

End of sophomore year I was side-tackled pretty bad during a school soccer practice. Normally I’m pretty good at shaking things off like that, but I remember feeling pretty dizzy after the fall. I had landed on my neck and back in the worst of ways, but regardless of the dizziness of the fall I shook it off and went on with the day. Later that afternoon I went up to my mother worried because I could turn my neck left or right. It was very tender and very difficult to extend my neck. After a long E.R. visit, they found no broken bones. Few months later I was in Physical Therapy and after a few MRIs they told me I injured all the soft tissue in my back and neck. Lots of painkillers, lots of crying and not sleeping. I stopped playing club soccer and around my senior year, I did try stepping back in and it just wasn’t the same anymore.

I started to really gain more weight my first year at my four-year university. I was older, it was cold as fuck there. So  between growing up and filling out into a more woman form, to adding on meat to survive the winters I had gained more weight. I’ve gone from double zero to trying to a bridesmaid dress, size 10.

I’ve never really had a problem with my weight or my body. Besides my face breaking out I’ve never looked in the mirror dissatisfied with myself. I do love my body for what it is now but sometimes I just can’t help but dread the extra pound, dread putting on a swimsuit, the pool club parties I have to attend, the magazine folds full on women who look nothing like me. The thought that perhaps I’m not going to find someone to be with because this weight isn’t always ideal, isn’t always attractive.

And before you go on a rant of, “don’t say that” or “you are beautiful” even though none of you know what I really look like. I think my point with this whole post is the fact that nothing really has gotten better in the war of body shapes and sizes. Yes, there are more natural bodies in magazines, across the internet but has it really changed anything or have these larger bodies just shuffled into the folds next to everything else?

We spend so much time criticizing a dolls shape, a song about “bass” or how much the latest celebrity momma has shaved off her post-baby body. We forget to talk about how we aren’t over the thin body craze. How much my guy friends skim through hot thin celebrities, hot thin models and any larger woman has “personality” “humor” “big spirited” but the body is still left.

I sit down in my room looking down at my body and I realize we haven’t turned the tide at all in what is truly beautiful. Because I love my body, but I fear showing it off in public, because it’s not the ideal body.

“Sadly, the signals that allow men and women to find the partners who most please them are scrambled by the sexual insecurity initiated by beauty thinking. A woman who is self-conscious can’t relax to let her sensuality come into play. If she is hungry she will be tense. If she is “done up” she will be on the alert for her reflection in his eyes. If she is ashamed of her body, its movement will be stilled. If she does not feel entitled to claim attention, she will not demand that airspace to shine in. If his field of vision has been boxed in by “beauty”–a box continually shrinking–he simply will not see her, his real love, standing right before him.” ― Naomi Wolf

The boyfriend I forgot I had in High School (oops)

I was trying to go in order of when i dated all these hot messes but oops, I forgot about this guy I dated in high school.

Alan 

We dated for a more than four months and we mutable broke up. Of course, I was still a little upset, because I’m just an emotion I’m never going to find someone kind of date person, but really I was so glad to see this relationship over. I was starting to become a kinky person. I already had gotten into the swing of things, but Alan really threw me off the path. He was a junior when I was a senior and he had never had sex.

We didn’t have sex either, just everything else. This is dating situation was definitely me dealing with my bad break-up with John. Alan was a bad idea rebound guy. He was younger, restless and we had bad chemistry.

He also was about my height (I’m 5 ‘2’) and was thinner than me.Let’s remember I weighed about 100 pounds in high school. I was a cross country runner. I also wore size double zero pants too

I think he still is that thin too from what I’ve heard.

He was also a twin and his twin brother was way cooler than him too.

It was such a boring, blah high school relationship I really have no memories of him, but this one time I gave him a blowjob in his parent’s living room when no one was home. On a striped couch with reds, golden yellows and white mixed in and his facial expressions, the taste of him, his moans did not turn me on at all.

That’s about it.

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Branching out

I woke up around 4am today from a terrible dream. Actually I woke up crying so it was really more like a nightmare than just a bad dream.

I was in this dark building and my Ex who cheated  and Marcus Ex was there and I couldn’t move and I realized I was strapped down, like some Frankenstein movie straps shit. And they were torturing me and telling my no one is going to love me or ever want to be with me.

Then I woke up and I was crying.

It was a really terrible night.

So I didn’t get much sleep but in the morning, I decided to do some reading. I just checked out two new books, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time and rereading Flowers for Algernon because the last time I read it I was in 5th grade and I’m teaching to my students. It’s a really wonderful little books and it’s one of the few books I remember really enjoying at that age. I have the book sitting on my desk and I’m on hold with my pharmacy trying to refill my prescription and I decided to flip through the book and I stumble upon this little dried up purple flower. I’m a bit shocked to this. Then I realize the page its on. It really made my day after my nightmare.

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It was like a nice little “keep some hope” message.


I had drinks with my friends last night. It was really nice. I actually did a few shots, which I haven’t done for months. So it was a bit of a half drunk night too. But my best friend and I were talking about her wedding. I always enjoy these conversations, there is always some funny story to hear or one of the other bridesmaids acting a fool. It’s interesting to watch my best friend too, because I don’t know I thought she would be living the kind of life I’m living and I would have her life. So it’s weird to see everything flipped.

*I always thought I would be the one getting married first (I did everything else before my friends) I also thought I would have the 9-5 job. But here we are living completely different lives than we planned.

But I asked my best friend if she ever thought of waxing and she got all excited and mentioned how she wanted to wax her legs and armpits before her wedding!

This is exciting news for me because I’ve been thinking for months now about waxing. Probably my legs and I’m really interested in getting a Brazilian (not a full bare ass wax. I have a nice little strip or something) . My one friend raves about how great it feels and I’m really tempted to try it out. maybe it will be the extra little push I need to get off the wall and back into the bedroom. My friend also wants to go underwear shopping, exciting. So here’s my little push back into kinky me. I miss kinky me. She was fun and had cool stories.

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Adult like things I’m getting the hang of:

  1. Making myself lunch for work
  2. Putting all my clothes away right after the dryer
  3. Making myself breakfast
  4. Getting to bed no later than 10pm, waking up at 7am to do some writing before work.
  5. Taking my birth control on time (I could always do this when i was having loads of sex but after a year of no sex I’ve been lacking)
  6. Coming up with creative ideas for teaching
  7. Studying every day for the GRE
  8. Working on my Statment of purpose every week
  9. Getting my hair to look nice for work
  10. Working out every week and going hiking

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My First Time

John

There is a lot to be said about the first time you have sex. You never forget that person, that moment and that *facepalm* feeling, “what were you thinking?” In the words of Mike Birbiglia, “At least no one saw it.”

John and I only dated for about five months, but it would a life changing five months.

Recently I told my best friend Sarah (friends since 4th grade) that if I had never met John we wouldn’t have met half of the friends we spend time with to this day. If I hadn’t dated John she may have never met her fiance. (More detail on this in a future post)

I met John (or Johnny) through a friend on Facebook. Johnny, my friend/his friend and I all ran cross country. I wasn’t running any longer though and was still dealing this a very painful back and neck injury due to soccer. We met via facebook, like any weird high school relationship starts. Note: This is such an embarrassing story for me personally.

We planned to meet at the local mall, like any young teenager with no real concept of hanging out places. My best friend Sarah came, even though I knew Johnny was a real person (thanks to my friend who knew him) Sarah just wanted to make sure he wasn’t a murder. He wasn’t a murder just in case anyone’s wondering, but after dating him and how we broke up I will say he turned out to be an asshole.

Funny Side Note: When Sarah and I first met John we both thought the same thing, ” wow he’s shorter than I thought he be.” He wasn’t super short, like he as taller than both Sarah and I. Still he was shorter than we had anticipated.

Dating in high school was so simple. Compared to dating as an adult, where you have discussions, share of each other’s emotional baggage and have an exchange of traits. Adult dating is like watching a National Geographic mating video, The Mating rituals of the Savannah” Where you watch a very bloody mating display of lion and you’re like “I want none of that.” So you go drink wine in your sweats and hang out on Tumblr.

But high school was easy. “Will you be my girl?” “Yes.” Done.


Like how it states in my title: My First Time

Johnny was my first time. I think I was 17 years old. Johnny was 17 too and only a few weeks older than me. A Taurus, I’m a Gemini.

Note: I don’t believe in horoscope in any way. I’m not laying out stones on my body or painting my body with symbols. I just the ironic description of horoscope and I believe it’s a simple/basic profile of someones personality and most people from all over understand horoscopes so there. 

We had sex. It was fine. Johnny had sex with his girlfriend before me, who moved away he claimed. I had never had sex and I was the first one out of the majority of people I knew to have sex. In his bedroom, with the TV night movie special, Catch me if you can. Surrounded by superheroes and a childhood still being played out. The moment you realize this is a stepping into who you will become, but as a young kid it’s a different thought than it is looking back on the moment.

The moment you realize this is a stepping into who you will become, but as a young kid it’s a different stepping stone you think about. As an adult you think about all the baggage it created and as a teenager it was “I’m fucking having sex!”

Did I want to have sex? Yes and No. Was I a bit hesitate? Yes. Did he push me a little bit to have sex. Oh yeah. Does this thought make me a bit uneasy as an adult? Of course.

Johnny was the first in a long line of guys I gave myself to. Gave up my body to and trying to become the definition of pleasure. I would win love through sex I thought and this only intensified after how our relationship ended.

Johnny had this long lost love for years. Some girl he just only loved but she never loved him back, until one day she did. At the end of our relationship from what I was told they started seeing each other, very intimately.

Johnny was a loser. He would go on to say this other girl was his “Jenny” and he was “Forrest Gump.”

WHAT! No.

This is how we would end. Through a terrible movie analogy.


Months afterward we would meet up again to chat.

I was still into him (but dating a friend of his) And he knew I still was into him and used this to his advantage. (We also hooked up a few times when we were both single throughout the months of fall) But one day a few weeks when I was dating one his friends we met up. Which just turned into me pointing out I knew he slept with her when we were still together and him asking me why I was seeing his friend.

And this moment I will never forget:

Johnny then told me ” no one will ever love you. No one will ever want to marry you.”

I know this is not true. But how would you feel, at 18 years old, from the first guy you had sex with? It was heart breaking for many years. Sometimes I think back to this conversation and wonder if he cursed me somehow because here I am single at 25.


Years Later

We wouldn’t talk for a long time after that conversation. Then, because he had a hold on me for the longest time. That silent sexual energy, that enegry you get from having sex and loving them. I had also just had a very awful break up with my boyfriend I had been with for four years. John was smart and he prayed on my recent break up. But our conversations and talk all ended one day when he was hitting on me via text.

John: “What did you do on your Saturday night?”

Me: “Oh just spent time with friends, went to the bars and danced. You?”

John: Oh not much, just went out, danced, did some nose candy…”

Nose Candy…? NOSE CANDY! Out of all the slang, lingo, short talk he picked NOSE CANDY! How about you just say I did some blow, or I don’t know I did cocaine. Good old cocaine

Also, John was well aware that drugs are not the way to my heart. At 25 years old I haven’t even smoked a cigarette or smoked pot. If you want to, cool. I’ve never been interested in any of it. It’s like coconut. Some people love it and some people don’t. Or like Anal.

So after this very weird text message it kind of hit me how much this guy had really hurt me, used me and was a loser. So I told him to leave me alone (Because he was also notorious for sneaking his way back into my life)

And now I call him Mr. Nose Candy.

Mr. Nose Candy would forever set in motion how I felt about my body and he was the first trip down the stairs, the first roll of the snowball effect, the one I looked back on when someone left me. When I felt like my body, my sex wasn’t enough to keep a man.

My relationship with John would be the knife in my back I would feel after numerous boyfriends cheated on me.

John was the first.

So how do I think about my first time now? I think about a bird molting.

 That’s the image in my mind.

A bird losing its wings.

The one labeled, “High School Sweetheart”

Funny I happened to start writing about this ex today, on his 25th birthday. Weird as shit how that always happens.

Adam

I suppose he’s my high school sweetheart in context, but of course we didn’t end up together, we didn’t have a happily ever after, The Notebook sex in the rain kind of story. We dated for two years and then we broke up, we dated a bit more and then we really broke it off. So you know, like normal people. I Guess?

He was sweet, kind and a pretty good boyfriend for the most part. But I am so glad we never ended up anything more than a high school couple.

Adam and I had been going to the same school since elementary school, but we didn’t really start talking and becoming friends until the end of 8th grade. Towards the end of our freshmen year, he asked me out. Like any young freshmen, we went to the regular hangout. Dinner and a movie at the local hot stop for all kids our age, the downtown area. He always gave me shit, but I order a salad on our date.

I have never told anyone this, but I order that salad because I couldn’t pronounce or really understand the menu at the downtown restaurant at. It’s still rather embarrassing to admit, but it’s true. Which makes me realize how far I’ve come since from freshmen year of school.

Still it was a nice date, one I will never forget in the terms of firsts. Adam was my first real boyfriend, first kiss, first for a good amount of things. On our first date, he gave me a candy heart that said, “first kiss” on it. Cute and don’t worry it had only been a week since valentines day, so no gross old candy heart shit. But it was sweet, he was sweet. He brought me flowers, gifts included bracelets, a necklace and a few little things I still have. Not to remember him but they are too nice to just throw in a trash can. But most of the sentimental dating stuff is long gone.

——

Looking back at my dating life as a young kid. I mean I didn’t have my first kiss until half way through freshmen year. man, I just snowballed into dirty time with my second boyfriend.

——–

Even though Adam was my first for meaning things, he was not the first person I had sex with, but we did a fair share of fingers, oral and lots of dry humping in the park. Yep, that’s right I was a horny 16-year-old kid. I was going to dry hump where ever I could.

Adam was always a pretty good guy. Everything ran pretty well for us as a couple. But looking back at it I can notice a lot of issues I never noticed before. One he made me self-conscious about oral (something I’ve never told anyone) He didn’t like it, the taste, the smell. It really made me feel like it was me. I’m still pretty self-conscious about with certain guys. I guess it just depends on my level of trust. Also, my senior year of high (we weren’t a couple) but we went prom together. I had spent all day getting ready and the first thing he says to me is I was wearing too much make-up.

Also, he hated name brand clothes. I tried so hard to get him to I don’t be a normal person. I’m not talking about bullshit stuff like American eagle (yuck) or anything like that, just I don’t know something! He hated it. (My fault for trying to change someone)

**Funny, because the mother fucker is such a hipster now. No joke, he makes hipsters look well, I don’t know (what’s the opposite of hipster) He is a mother fucking label wearing, over the top hipster. I mean this guy works at a writing coffee shop and works with craft beer. Also, teaches music to kids! He needs a stamp on his ass, “100% hipster.”

———-

Also, his parents hated me. I’ve never had people hate me so much. I never really gave them a reason to hate me too. I mean I’m not going to toot my own horn, but I’m a pretty nice and sweet person. But I was dating their only child, only son! Plus he’s mom was a clown. So there. Case solved. No joke, she was a clown, like the shit kids have nightmares about. She also didn’t understand what conversations must feel like for someone dealing with auditory processing disorder. She thought I was rude. I thought I was shy and terrified to say the wrong things. To come across as dumb.

————

 I wasn’t always emotionally available. I was private and didn’t have serious conversations. He told me, “I was fun.”

There was definitely a lack of understanding to what my learning disability created for me. He struggled with the fact that I didn’t cry much. (funny because I’m opposite now) when I did cry I don’t think he could handle it. He couldn’t handle the pain I felt. I don’t think he ever really understood that. But I can’t blame him, he was only a kid.

Of course like must my boyfriends I would later find out he broke up with me because he had a crush of my friend. Also, two weeks after we broke up and he told me,  “he didn’t want a girlfriend for awhile” he ended up with this girl who was new to our school. (I guess the classic lines never get old).


Sex with Adam

We did break up but towards the end of senior year we did get back together for a bit. About 5 months. He went to college near our hometown and I was going to junior college. I did end the relationship (because I liked someone else-boyfriend number 3) but Adam had already ended in many ways. He was always busy and never had time for me. He definitely pulled the if I’m a shitty boyfriend she’ll break up with me card.

Sex was terrible with him. I think we did it twice. It was bad. Like it didn’t fit. Not like he was huge by any means. I’ve had bigger, like a lot bigger. But I think my vagina was trying to stop the sex. Like my body knew it didn’t want it to happen. Can you imagine if my vagina could talk? Adam still stands as the worst sexual experiences I’ve ever had. I don’t even know if he came…I know I didn’t and if he says otherwise, well. we all know. (I faked it)

Vagina: Please! Please! No!!! You don’t really want this! NOOOO not that dick, please not his dick!

Adam still stands as the worst sexual experiences I’ve ever had. I don’t even know if he came…I know I didn’t and if he says otherwise, well. we all know. (I faked it)

**Oh, on a weird side note: This is the ex I had a threesome with. Weird right? I know but yep. My senior year of high school, threesome, every mans dream happened to him at like what? 18? Wasteful!


Did I love him? Well, what love meant to high school me., so yes I did. He wasn’t always the best but when it came down to it he never yelled at me, never was emotionally or physically abusive and he did do some pretty sweet things. At the end of the day, I was on his mind.

Adam, the high school sweetheart. Thanks for being a pretty decent guy. I wish you well and I know you would say the same for me.

We stayed in touch for a few years afterward. We use to text each other on birthdays. That hasn’t happened in a long time. We had drinks with another friend like 3 years ago. But other than that we don’t talk. I’m not sad by this at all. I’ve realized though Adam was a pretty nice boyfriend, he also created a lot of my insecurities and fear of parents, definitely fear of parents is thanks to his family. Still to this day I hate meeting the parents.

So one last time “Happy Birthday Adam.”

Through Lungs

Are there certain thoughts you don’t talk to anyone about? Do most people go through their day without so much as a word about how they’re really feeling? I know at least I do.

I know at least this describes myself.

Most my friends would be shocked to hear me utter ” I’m a really shy person.”  I was a really shy kid in a very large family. Both my parents have four siblings, which adds up a lot of cousins and large dinner events. I was the kid in the family that needed to warm up before I would start chatting. Actually this still rings true a bit. I’ve had many professors ask me, “what are thinking about?” Always noticing my wheels turning but saying nothing. Also, many acquaintances have taken my silence and shy behaviour as rude behaviour on my part. When they themselves lack the proper understanding: that I’m shy, that I struggle with a learning disability and social cues haven’t always been a natural development. I’m a more watch and learn kind of a person. So I’ve always kept to myself more.

I’ve had numerous ex’s (at the time boyfriends) inform me I’m more the “fun girl” the “happy go lucky lady” and I lack a certain level of depth. Which I know is not true but I do carry the trait of keeping feelings hidden from even the closest of friends. Hiding who I was started young. Not telling which level of math I was in. Not wanting to example where I was for half the day. Hiding the fact that I felt stupid and didn’t feel normal. I think on some level I still hid parts of myself.

I mean here I am, writing through anonymous blog.

Here I am letting past ex’s justify the reasons why I’m not worth their time.

So back to my question: Are their certain thoughts you never share with anyone? Do you go days, months, even years feeling a certain way and never expressing it?

I do. Has this to do with my relationship with language. Absolutely. Has writing poetry and being involved in speech and Debate helped? Without a doubt in my mind. But I still spend a good chunk of my day stewing in my thoughts.

Maybe one of these I’ll take that deep breathe in and speak my mind aloud.

It’s a Start

As I’ve stated, this blog is a fresh start. Since my old blog (the one I lost passwords on top of passwords to) is at a lost.

The last few days  haven’t been sure of what I should post. Should I talk about why I started blogging in the first place? Maybe list of facts about myself? Just start in the middle of things?

**I’ve decided to write about the beginning of things: The first butterflies, first broken hearts and the first time I felt everything in my life had been going according to plan. A perfect story book.

I was so naive.

Note: All names have been changed. 

BEN (First butterflies in my stomach)

I’m not sure when I first met Ben, but during  3rd grade a cute skinny stick boy walked in front of me. Pale skin, with glasses bigger than his face. Ben was sweet, funny; think Gilmore Girls character, “Dean” meets 3rd grader Ben. His smile gave me butterflies. It felt right, like so many of my favorite movies talked about. The smile a young maiden would give. I imaged my smile was the same. So, I was crushed when I found out he was moving elementary schools. (The school was a mile away) We wrote letters, called each other on our home phones. We were young and feeling the deepest emotions a child could feel. It seems so silly now as an adult, but in the moments of my childhood I wasn’t. I felt butterflies and only that mattered.

_______

Phone calls…

You know I don’t get many phone calls from guys at my age now. No late night talks, no conversations flying by. I suppose when you’re an adult and sex is in the mixing bowl, the phone calls go out the window and right into the trash can.

________

As I was saying, Ben and I would call each other. We sent postcards from the far away places we traveled to with family. Then at one-point everything just stopped. I don’t if it was me who stopped calling him or he stopped writing me. I found other boys to crush on, like Brandon. Oh, there was no chance in hell with Brandon, but I was dreamer.

In 6th grade, Brandon was the cool boy with perfect flipped up hair and skater jeans. I was an awkward tomboy, who hated any type of clothing that would restrict my body movement during recess soccer. Embarrassingly enough, I fell into Brandon’s lap one time waiting in line after recess. A snotty little nose girl named Jenny Bri pushed me and bam! Magic. It was a heat! A sensation all in one. Ahh, “the sexual encounters of a 6th grader” Yep, I was living the dream back then

It wouldn’t be until junior high when I would run into Ben again. My friends, remembering how much he meant to me squealed in glee when they found out we were both going to the same junior high school. He ended up being in my 8th grade Drama class. He had gained a considerable amount of weight, but still wore too big, almost Harry Potter looking glasses. Ben was still sweet, funny and always smiling. After a few awkward conversations, smiles and nods we never spoke again. The butterflies were no longer there. We went to different high schools. He joined the basketball team, thinned down to stick boy again and I joined Speech and Debate; gained some much-lacking confidence in myself. We never spoke again and after high school I never saw him again.

We never spoke again and after high school I never saw him again.

**Sometimes I wonder how he’s doing.

Ben was the beginning of how I thought each boy should treat me: sweet and kind. He was also the top of the hill; my downwards tumble into the wrong kind of man.