I'll never look like a Victoria's Secret model (and how I'm coming to terms with this)

Dear Amazons, yesterday I embarked on the ultimate of journeys, facing a challenge that makes even the strongest among shudder internally.  Of course, this deed that I speak of is none other than swimsuit shopping.

Ugh. I was totally in the zone ahead of time, thinking about how I hadn't done this in quite a few year (for good reason) and how this year would inevitably be different because even I can see how I've put on lean muscle and am in the best shape of my life.

HA.  That's all I can say.  If it hadn't been so depressing, I would have laughed.  But there was no laughing.  Because as I looked at myself in the mirror, cast in that awful dressing room light, I was comparing myself to the VS Angels who saunter down the runway in their itsy, bitsy, teeny, weeny whatevers and that's not what reflected back at me.

I do not have a bikini body in the sense that I do not fill out a bikini the way that the "perfect human specimen according to VS" does.  I have a body from spending 3 mornings a week in the weight room and another 3 days powering through the cardio.  My thighs are not shapely (no thigh gap here) they are muscular, initially taking shape from years of soccer before I recently began honing in on them to reduce my chronic knee pain.  I do squats.  I pedal on the stationary bike until I feel my glutes and quads burning.  And afterwards I check my own legs out in the mirror.  They are strong legs.

These legs don't look good in a teensy weensy bikini bottom because they dwarf it.

My chest does not generously fill out a bikini top.  Actually it's amusing to see how little I have going up on top.  And I'd rather avoid the pieces that promise to add 2 cups instantly (!).  Because as badly as I wanted boobs when I was younger, the reality is that I'll never have to invest in sports bras.

Though I am ashamed to confess this, I will for the good of us all, and say that as I stood there in the dressing rooms of Sports Authority, Macy's, and finally Nordstrom I couldn't help but think "well I guess I should watch what I eat, cut out more carbs, eat less sugar, blah blah blah."  Wait just one fucking minute.  Do you have any idea just what my diet already looks like???  Only the smallest part of my daily sustenance could be considered processed, leaving the rest to be mostly organic whole foods.  That doesn't leave a whole lot of wiggle room.  And that's because the standard that I'm holding myself to is fictitious, unattainable, and potentially hazardous to my health.  So no, there's nothing wrong with what I'm doing and I came to that conclusion (fortunately rather quickly) all on my own.  And then it became a matter of finding the pieces that worked with my body, not the other way around.

I ended up with a simple top (no triangle cups to sag limply) and bottoms that were similar to my spandex gym shorts (yes).  A style that isn't flashy or bedazzled or ruffled but it's what worked and that's what matters.

Something else fueling my confidence in the face of these twisted ideals?  I've been the recipient of enough attention from the opposite sex that I know I don't have to be a fucking supermodel to distract the heck out of them.  Let's get real, and I mean REALLY real.  How many of us have had really hot sex?  You know, the kind where you know, know, that everything about your body drives your partner wild.  Raise your hands.  *raises own hand*  Okay, now how many of us look like Heidi and Gisele?  *crickets chirping*  Hmm...I see.  Well that settles that.

I do this for me.  I have had a really rocky time of things pertaining to my fitness (or lack thereof') as a child and body image in general.  It's only just now starting to be something that doesn't send me into a downward spiral.  It's not easy for a lot of us to walk around in our underwear when the world is bombarded by what the "ideal" sexy body.

I do this because I have never felt stronger or more empowered and in control of my emotions than I do now.  And that's with size-A boobs, knock-knees, a gut that enjoys red meat, and legs that give me away as an athlete.  I am me.  You are you.  Tell the twisted ideals to go eat a sandwich.

Happy Valentine's Day Amazons!

Yes I said it.  Happy V-A-L-E-N-T-I-N-E-S Day.  The commercialization of love is upon us!  Don't let it get you down Amazons.  On all the other days in the year, it doesn't matter if you have someone else in your life, so why should it be different on this day? 

Do Amazons let men into their lives so that they'll have a Valentine? Someone to cook them dinner on February 14.  Someone to buy them flowers and give them kisses.  Is that why you're in a relationship now?  For one day out of the year?  I'm not.

I'm not in it for the day when red and pink hearts pop up all around town, smothering passers-by with sickeningly sweet sentiments.  Don't get me wrong; I don't want to be construed as being bitter. I simply don't believe that any of this is healthy; not for people in relationships and definitely not for people who happen to be single on February 14.

If you need a reason to shower your significant other with love, adorations, etc. then perhaps you're with the wrong person.  Because I speak from experience when I say that I've spent a couple of Valentine's Days with a couple of different boyfriends and being together on that day didn't mean much in the grand scheme of things.

Case in point:  One Valentine's Day my boyfriend-at-the-time came over to my apartment and cooked me a lovely dinner.  He brought me red roses and we had chocolate fondue for dessert.  Wonderful evening.  Two months later, he told me that he didn't feel the relationship was going to go the distance (paraphrasing of course). 

Umm...what?  Excuse me.  That's not how this works.  You see, you were romantic on Valentine's Day, therefore we are bound by the laws of chalk-like candy hearts and all things Dove Chocolate to be together forever.  I. WISH.

When I was younger, and more naive, and less like an Amazon, I used this day as a barometer of the success of my life.  Because we're nothing if no one wants to date us, right?  WRONG.  I finally realized that this year.  And it makes me proud that I see my in-relationship friends and don't think "Goddamn I hate you and your lovey-dovey significant other and aren't you two just the cutest fucking things in the world and I want to barf now."  This year, rather, I think "Good for you!" and continue on with my life.  And when I see my single friends I think "Power to you!"

The next time I'm in a relationship when Valentine's Day rolls around, I hope it will be nice.  Maybe he'll cook me dinner (because cooks are hot) and maybe he'll bring me flowers (because I do like flowers).  But I'd want him to cook me dinner on other days too.  And I'll gladly accept flowers on February 15 and March 3 and November 12.  Because I like flowers on any day of the year. '

That is what I want to convey to Amazons everywhere.  Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go eat some more chocolate.

Polar Plunge, 6 months, plus sometimes it's a little rocky.

Okay so the rocky mention in the title refers to the embarrassing, shameful, and humiliating performance by the Denver Broncos in the Super Bowl tonight.  Bleh.  End of that story.

On to more empowering news, 6 months come and gone.  I'm here!  I haven't crawled into a hole to become a hermit.  He didn't win.

I rarely think about him anymore and when I do it's something along the lines of "I'm really glad we're not together" or "You need to figure out how to be happy, I can't have that kind of toxicity in my life."  It feels awesome.  It feels awesome because it used to bring me to tears thinking about him.  About the memories we shared and how it came crashing down in the end.  But that doesn't happen any more.

Today I'm stronger than I was 6 months ago.  I'm fiercer and more determined than ever before.  And I see that relationship for what it was: not what I deserved.  It shouldn't be like pulling teeth to get someone to spend time with me.  But I was blinded by emotion and didn't want to accept reality.  I didn't want to accept the reality that I gave a year of my life to someone that didn't want to make the same investments as I did.  To be fair, I can't blame someone for wanting to be free to live life to the fullest.  To see the world, to travel, to experience once in a lifetime moments.  Some things can't be achieved when you've got the commitment of a monogamous relationship.  I can however blame someone for leading me on for a year.  But that's in the past.

Because now I am a sexier, more confident Amazon on the prowl.  Looking to enjoy life by eating well, breathing deeply, and making memories with my fellow Amazons.

So let's mark this 6 month milestone with pride!

Yesterday my coworker and I did the Seattle Special Olympics Polar Plunge.  What an amazing experience; even after doing twice before I never fail to get that feeling afterwards, the feeling that tells me "Yeah!  This is a great cause and I'm so proud to support this year after year!"

The two of us raised over $1000 and the event as a whole raised over $100,000.  So many Special Olympics athletes will benefit from this fundraiser and I will continue to do this for the foreseeable future.

Because Amazons give back.

bis bald

TGIF...right?

What a mixed emotions kind of day. Really empowering, university-wide kettlebell event today got the heart racing and definitely led to some team bonding in the office.

But rather than bask in the glow of a Friday evening well deserved, I find myself worrying over a package of sentimental items that has yet to arrive.  Now in all fairness, it was 2-3 day shipping and today was the 3rd day.  But it's more the irreplaceable contents that has me feeling so angsty.  Broncos swag from, among other things, my first trip to Denver.  And the Broncos logo that I made in Woodshop.  That is without a doubt one-of-a-kind and I desperately want it to arrive in one piece.  I try to remind myself that the box is just filled with stuff and that while I might want it, things are only so important.  Intangible things are worth far more.  So I'm trying to focus on this, trying to tell myself that worrying isn't going to change the whereabouts of the package so I'll just have to hope that it shows up soon.

Because I've got so many other things that I could dwell on instead.  Dreaming of a dear friend who alludes to the fact that there could be something more.  What the fuck brain?  I think it's because I was reading Book 2 of the Hunger Games and the whole "Gale-Peeta-Katniss" triangle must have wormed it's way into my subconscious.  But really, that's so distracting.  And confusing.  And I can't even begin to describe how I feel about it because it's so totally outrageous.  And did I mention confusing?

Then, with someone else, I feel like we're walking this very fine line between friendly banter and beating around a very dangerous bush.  To be honest I'm really not in a position to be picky when a decently attractive, single male presents himself at my Amazonian feet.  Seriously, don't tease a caged animal.  But the whole thing just seems so very strange.  Because maybe I would go for that (him) if the opportunity arose.  Maybe.  Assuming it does.  Which I kinda hope it doesn't.

I'm so very antisocial these days.  It's pretty shameful if it didn't seem like something I liked.  I don't want to go out after a long week.  I want to go back to my apartment, lock the door, and enjoy the fact that I don't have to wake up at 4:45AM the next morning.  So while my social life curled up and died a long time ago, I'm not overly broken up about it's passing.  Sure, I wish I wasn't lonely.  But I love just curling up with a book and reading the night away.

Which brings me to my final point, since I'm feeling so very wise.  I'm beginning to wonder if this is a point in my life where I need to be single.  Because I feel as though I'm on the cusp of realizing a great deal about myself if I give myself the opportunity.  I'm semi-independent.  I don't need anyone to help me pass the time.  I've got my main man Rudi for whenever I want to get out and see the world.  And I'm finally recognizing that I really don't want someone in my life just for the sake of being in a relationship.  That's worked out so well in the past after all.  And with each and every end to those relationships, I've added a little more wisdom to my soul.  I know what I want a little bit better, I know what I'll never stand for, I know what I deserve, and I know what makes me happy.  But that's surely not the end to things.

Amazons can't waste their time on mere mortals.  Maybe I have high standards.  But maybe society's standards aren't high enough.  You want me to settle?  Hell no.  So up your game and bring me your best.  Because I'm cocky enough to know that I should have to settle but humble enough to know that I need to woo you too.

So please form an orderly line and wait your turn.  And let me see what society has to offer.  But I'm in no rush.  You see, I brought a book with me so I'm quite content to wait until the right one comes along.

bis bald.

Feelings almost 6 months later

I came to the realization a week or so ago that it had been 5 months since the break up.  The break up that was preceded by a talk months earlier that set the stage for things to come.  In all honesty, that little chat late one Saturday night was far worse than the actual break up.  I saw the split coming; the writing was on the wall.  The talk.  The talk came at me from way out in left field and bludgeoned my heart to smithereens.

So I realized that it had been 5 months since I sat at Greenlake with my all-of-a-sudden-ex where we bawled our eyes out at the sad reality.  And it was really sad.  It was tragic to think that all of the memories had culminated in the heartbreaking realization that it wasn't going to work out.  Heartbreaking for me at least.  I can't speak for the other party.

But when I realized that it had been 5 months, I got this strange feeling inside of me.  Strange, because it didn't make me sad to think about how that was the last time I was in a relationship.  In fact, it filled me with pride that I had triumphed over that heartbreak.  And that I'm doing okay for myself these days.  I mean I think I speak for all of us when I say, I sure do wish I had a hunky man and sprawling mansion and money piled sky high.  That would be nice.  But here I am with what I've got.  And it's okay.

I've learned a bit more about what I want.  Looking back I can see all the things that didn't work for me; I can recognize what I will and won't choose going forward.  And I won't be naive in thinking that I know someone well after just one year.

I've got new hobbies: I like to go to UW soccer games and cheer rambunctiously.  I like to sit in a park with some lunch and enjoy the quiet, while observing the ducks.  I rekindled my love affair with books and it's getting pretty torrid.  I like to hike and feel the burn in my quads as I venture through nature.

And I can feel pretty pathetic sometimes.  That nasty part of the mind always breaks through now and then.  And when it does, I want to throw all these realizations out the window.  I want to drop the bar to ground level just so that I may have someone to keep me company.  And that's when I tell myself: well, aren't you being a little picky?  A little too picky maybe?  You can't have your cake AND eat it too, you know.

But I can.  And I want to.  And I will.  Because eventually that voice is pushed back into the recesses of my skull and I pick up that bar and I place it back at its appropriate level.  And I vow that certain standards have to be met.  Will be met.  This isn't supposed to be easy.  Nothing worthwhile is easy.  And I take comfort in the fact that stick to these standards.  Because the scared girl from California, that first arrived at UW in the fall of 2009, didn't have those standards.  Didn't respect herself enough to say no to the things that weren't perfect, rather she said yes to everything in the hopes that the loneliness would be chased away.

I hate being single.  I hated from the moment I was dumped by my first boyfriend.  It was an awful abyss and I couldn't escape it fast enough.  Each month that passed me by was a biting reminder that I had yet to find someone who liked me.  It was a measure of how utterly unlikable I was.  Because isn't it?  "If you don't have someone, there must be something wrong with you."  That's what I told myself.  And the mistakes that kind of thinking leads to is evidenced by my relationship history.

I still hate being single.  That will never change.  But what has changed is how I perceive the passing of time.  I almost see it as a badge to display proudly.  "Look at me world!  Look at these standards that I have!  Look at that bar that shall not be lowered.  I will not settle for anything less than my Prince Charming riding up on a dapple grey Percheron to sweep me off my feet and carry me back to our estate in Bavaria!"  Too much? Well you get the idea.  So when the beginning of February rolls around, I can look at my calendar with satisfaction that it's been 6 months and the bar is still in place.

Amazons are picky...and rightfully so.

So I can already imagine the flack that I could/will get for this.  But I'm going to say it anyways.  Because it's how I feel.  And my mother taught me that feelings are neither right or wrong; they're just feelings.

Amazons should not have to date outside their fitness level (unless they want to).  And quite frankly, saying this makes me feel like a bitch.  But in my head I can rationalize this by saying that:

• if I bust my ass to look good, you should too.
• if I watch what I eat, you should too.
• if I strive for having toned muscles, you should too.

 Go ahead: label me something nasty.  Say I'm a bitch, that I'm superficial, and that it's the content of your heart that counts.  Your heart does count.  As does your personality.  Quite a bit actually.  But I would argue that it's a very good indicator of your personality if you are slovenly, or lack self-control, or don't see the error of your ways.  Because you're going to make yourself sick from excessive weight and lack of exercise and I don't need to be your mother. #bitch


I'd like to acknowledge the fact that many people are works in progress.  What you are today isn't an indicator of what you will be tomorrow.  I was, as a child, quite overweight.  I purposely don't look at photos of myself from my childhood because I'm so upset by what I used to look like.  That being said, I don't want to try and fix someone.  They will resent me for not being happy with who they are and I will be miserable because I won't be happy.

I will confess that it's hard finding out someone is out of shape after learning they have a decent personality.  Because how do you casually walk away from that after clearly hitting it off to one extent or another.  Then...WHAMMO!

"I...uh...met someone else." Really?  When did that happen?

"I'm...well...I'm just not feeling like we're clicking..." Oh?  I thought we were.

"Here's the thing, now that I know what you look like, I'm not attracted to you anymore."  WHAT?  You're such a BITCH!
"Yes, I know."

What's an Amazon to do?

• Lie?  No.  Never.  At least not when you can totally avoid lying.
• Be honest? Welp...if you're a cold-blooded bitch I guess you could.  I'm a bitch but I don't want to give someone a complex.  I just want to kind of walk slowly backwards and pretend this didn't happen.
• Say nothing and fade into the background.  Sigh.  I've got balls so that's not something I do with any frequency.  Because it's shit to be on the receiving end of that.  Most of us know that from experience.

I guess in a situation where those are the only options I'd opt for Lie. Keep it vague.  Keep it short.  Dear god, please don't ramble.  I don't normally advocate for dishonesty but you could say something like "Hey, I've enjoyed talking with you but things have changed for me and blah blah blah.

We make no apologies.

A happier New Year?

I suppose it's best that it happened this way.  Because now I truly will have a fresh start on January 1.  But that doesn't help that fact that I'm sick to my stomach.  Sick to my stomach because I feel tricked and I feel like a fool.

Back story: Girl meets guy.  They go out to dinner.  It's fun.  They go out again. It's also fun.  Communication ensues.  Girl is hopeful.  A little time passes and then guy is suddenly in relationship with someone else.  End of that story.

Despite my coworkers' advice that I not dwell on this, I cannot help it.  I feel so many things and none of them good.

I feel angry.  I was led on and lied to.  I was honest and I got deception.

I feel sad.  I was hopeful that this could be someone I could get close to in the future but instead I'm disappointed. And I'm hurt that I couldn't garner the truth from another human being.

The most painful thing of all is that I'm seeing a serious trend among the male population that I pursue. They like me.  But they don't want to date me.  Which is ironic because I don't exactly seek the approval of the masses.  I'm really just looking for someone to be my other half.

So I'm left wondering what it is about me that makes history repeat itself.  What am I missing that should be a warning flag?  What is it about me that draws this to me like a moth to a flame?

I know enough to be certain that this will pass and that what I'm feeling is just as much anger as it is pain.  Because I know deep down that I didn't deserve this; that's what pisses me off the most.

I don't have much desire to stay up late and watch the Ball drop tonight.  It was fun back home with my mom.  It was okay counting down last year as we celebrated in Cap Hill.  This year?  I feel inclined to sleep it away.

Wishing I could run back home to San Diego.