Goodbye Love...Handles

Over this past summer, I was proud to be at my ideal weight of 135 pounds (my ideal weight is actually 125-130 but I felt close enough). It had been a while since I was even in the same neighborhood as 130 pounds. I was in a new city and I had dropped two of the most fattening things a girl could ever own...a car and a boyfriend.

Delightfully, I was happy at this new size and I maintained it for quite sometime. Until came the Winter...which promptly brought with it the holidays...which entails dinners, chocolate, cake and other tenderly baked treats.

15 pounds later (or so I imagine, since I never weight myself), I'm about half way back toward the other direction (yes, I dropped about 30 pounds or so this past year...give or take). So It's time to get back on track. Which is why I just gingerly ate a measured cup of cereal, and am now working my way through 15 ounces of grapefruit juice (known to brake down fat cells). Which is also why I skipped the coffee this morning and opted for tea instead (ugh).

In the Winter, trotting 15 blocks or so to get to the museum turns into a $10 cab ride. The funnest thing to do is order in and sleep, and all the best activities are done indoors. Over the summer, aside from not being much interested in other men, even the idea of sex was too much to process. Getting hot and bothered in 105 degree, humid heat was the furthest thing from my mind. I stayed outside from 7 in the morning till 10pm at night on average, and on weekends sometimes I stayed out until the next day. Now, I get home and I'm pretty much wiped out. It's 30 degrees outside with a chance of snow....there IS no outside as far as I'm concerned.

So instead, I will be dieting. Measuring...counting...portioning. UGH. But in 5 months (my goal), I'll be back down to a size 6, and sporting my $200 bikini (my reward for loosing it all) on a beach somewhere in Mexico with my favorite guy.

But for now....today....TODAY I'm fucking hungry.

YAY SNOW!!

White Tuesday

I was smiling underneath my coat hood tonight.

When I was a kid, I was quite oblivious to the "damage" being done to me. I didn't realize how much it would effect me that we moved so much, that there was upheaval, and disappointment. As children tend to do, I always seemed to filter these things out and store them for the time that would come when I would inevitably be much more aware. What I did notice, was that almost every time my family moved...it rained. Now, as a 24 year old woman...I hate rain. I hate everything about it accept for the sounds it creates on a rooftop.

I left work tonight with one goal in mind. Get home soon. I got on my usual 3 train, but didn't get far before it started slowing down. The loud speaker broke through the silence and informed us at the Chambers Street stop that another train ahead of us was stalled and we would be waiting for a bit. So, I waited. The next stop was the same scenario, and again I waited. Only this time, I realized I could connect to the A and take the 4 home instead of waiting on a stalled line. So I did. After getting off the A and walking through the tunnel to the 4 I arrived just in time to see that the 4 was so full, not even a small child could fit inside it's doors. So it left without me. I waited some more, and this time a 2 showed up. The 2 doesn't go to my neighborhood, but it would get me close enough, so I got on. It was packed, smelly, damp and loud. My frustration seemed to collect in the tips of my fingers and the end of my nose. I was approaching livid. Then I got off of the 2 and crossed the path to take the 4. I waited...

...And waited some more.

Finally the 4 came and took a crap load of angry Brooklynites (?) home. I was steaming by the time I got off at my stop, nearly an hour behind. The cold air started to hit me sooner than usual as I climbed the steps to exit, which meant that the temperature had dropped drastically since I left Manhattan. Then I cam out of the station and onto the street.

I was in a snow globe. Wisps of white cotton was falling heavily on everything around me. The cars were covered, the houses were frosted and the sky was almost completely white. My California ass started swatting the snow away trying to make my way through. But as I walked, and the snow transformed from flakes to drops of water on the sidewalk, my frustration seemed to melt away too. By the time I got to my street I was smiling like a school girl.

In between the moving, the fighting, the disappointment and the let downs...there was snow. Sporadic though the occasion was, on trips to Tahoe or staying with my Great Grandparents in Ohio there were mounds of crunchy snow. The thought occurred to me as I walked through it that my happiest times as a child were spent in snow. I had no bad memories of snow, nothing to feel except unencumbered. And so, sappy as this might sound, I mumbled a thank you before reaching my door stoop.

The smallest things, sometimes as small as a 6 degree drop in temperature can make you remember that nothing is all bad.

Please Don't Feed the Animals

So, I'm walking down to Citi Bank to withdraw some cash for the long weekend, when I pass Penn Station and there stands this big guy with a black back pack on his back. I didn't notice he was shouting until I got up closer to him (while pretending to mind my own business, of course) but as I approached I realized he was shouting at an even larger man in front of him.

"Fuck you, mutha fucka...cause you fuckin wit the wrong man..." he's screaming at the top of his lungs as New York's finest looks on, just as entertained as the rest of us. I'm still passing by, however, at a record low speed.

The larger man retorts, "Get the fuck atta heah! You not gon' do nothin anyway." At this point the first guy starts taking off his backpack, and I start moving faster. It's none of my business anyway. I wait with baited breath to hear gun shots behind me as I approach the crosswalk at 34th and 7th.

So, I'm standing at the corner of 34th and 7th in the crowed of hat-and-coated strangers waiting for the light to change and the traffic to clear when a man with rolling luggage walks by and accidentally drags his suitcase over another man's foot. He mumbles something, and the man with the maimed foot protests, "Well it's not my fuckin fault guy, you should watch where your goin." The victim has an accent, who the hell knows from where. Now the luggage baring tyrant turns around with a v-shaped brow, "I wasn't fuckin talkin to you! Why don't you just mind ya fuckin business!?" He starts to turn back towards Penn Station, and I'm assuming the spat has been settled. (Keep in mind this is LITERALLY 10 feet away from the backpack throwing guy.) Instead of the argument breaking up, the toe-victem decides to keep talking. What he says is now inaudible because I've started my decent from the explosive situation, inching my way into oncoming traffic because it seems like the smarter decision. All I hear is the clack of the suitcase-man's luggage handle to the wet pavement, and the rustle of a thick leather jacket coming off. A fight ensues as sirens sound in the background behind me (I'm halfway across the street by now) and I can only wonder which debacle the cops are coming to break up first.

As I cross the street, I'm thinking New York needs to take a nice long drag from the happy pipe and stop fighting with each other.

Then I walk into the Citi Bank ATM line and get cut in front of by a mousy brown haired woman wielding a roll-along suitcase. I bite my tongue and simply exclaim, "Happy Holidays" as the woman scowls at me from the corner of the first available machine.

QUESTION: Does luggage make you cranky, or do I just have a conflict magnet hanging from my ass cheeks?

Next fight I encounter, I'm jumpin in.

Um...Burrrr!!!

It was a blazing 27 degrees this morning when I woke up today.

Let me repeat...

It was 27 degrees outside this morning.

Anytime the temperature is lower than my boyfriend's age....I'm not going to be a fan.

I bundled up in my winterist winter coat and boots. My ears were frozen by the time I reached the subway station (3 blocks from my house). My glasses were somehow frosted, and my hair which was damp when I left, was somehow DAMPER.

I am not amused by this. This is not my idea of winter. My idea of winter involves a light jacket, long pants and flats. I am not privy to resembling a penguin when I leave the house for work.

T.G.I.F.

I'm happy the weekend is finally here, and I can scratch one more day off the calendar. Even though it's rainy outside and I have no rain coat (at least not with me). I'm happy that I can sleep in tomorrow and still get to be productive. I'm happy that tonight I'll come home tired and ready for sleep. Mostly, though I'm happy that D is finished with his project at work that has been sucking the fun out of him lately. He can finally get some sleep and be his cheerful self again. Yay!

Hello November...

Being so far away from "home" always feels worse when things get a little crumby. Like when some loser fuck-tard steals your debit card info and decides for go on a $27 shopping spree. I'm sure my cell phone bill money went MILES for those Nazi bastards (anyone rude is a Nazi, that's just how I see the world). It just feels more like a Monday when my family is all the way in California and my sweetie is all the way in Houston.

My room mate Monica and I are planning to have our own little sad version of Thanksgiving this month. With the prices of airfare shooting through the roof and neither of our families being "holiday-people", we have opted to save our money and make a feast of our own. We'll probably make some concoction from my favorite Caribbean cookbook, and have a big bottle of wine. We'll sit on pillows on the floor and listen to Shiny Toy Guns before heading out on the town. It will definitely mark my most unorthodox Thanksgiving I've ever had, but none the less it will be memorable I'm sure.

With my next visit to D a do-able 18 days away and the historical election in less than 24 hours, there is much to look forward to. In the mean time, I'm grateful that hot coffee is available to keep my frosty fingers company. I look forward to the leaves in New York continuing to amaze me with their slow transformation into golden brown and sappy red. I look forward to the snow that will surely come, and to it's tight encumbered crunching under my feet. And for the things to come after the new year.

When Time Falls Back

I've always been ambiguous to the "in-between" seasons. The one's missing that extreme weather element that keeps me thriving and alive. No scorching heat, no blistering snow (or as a former California girl, I should say, "no heavy, relentless rain."), nothing to hate, nothing to run from. Fall and Spring are irritatingly uneventful seasons; yet ones I can't complain about.

On Saturday, Tia and I said goodbye to Summer by sitting in McCarren Park and peddled off our closet discards. Shoes, bags, books, etc. We started out selling our stuff at fair market value but by the time we were closing up (and after receiving a summons for drinking beer in public) we started unloading everything we had for a quarter each. What we had left over will be going promptly to exchange as soon as I find the ovaries to haul that huge suitcase full of crap down to North 11th (again).

The thing I can say about Fall, is that it brings the most interesting fashion possibilities. Your not required to walk around stark naked, baring every inch of skin within legal limits. No horrible binge/purge diet to maintain so that your love handles are less obvious in the tub top you insisted on buying despite not finding the size you actually wear (hypothetically, of course). No sticky, sour sweat beads running down your face taking with it what bit of make up you were able to apply before the humidity of your bedroom forced you to leave or pass out on the floor. And conversely, no horrid winter garb that makes you look like a wool-spun mummy waddling down the street with nothing but your eyes poking through a mess of scarf/earmuff/hat. No, Fall blesses us all with a bite of cold just cool enough for fedoras, wool skirts and calf-high leather boots; yet sun-kissed for our silk blouse, light blazer wearing delight. And I plan on taking full advantage.

Fall flatters my figure the best, and my diet. No sugar-glutted popsicles to get me through the night, and not much of a need for over-priced, grande-soy-no whip-extra hot-caramel-latte to get me through the morning. Just good old fashioned low calorie soup.

So while Fall doesn't ignite any extra passion nor foot-tapping blithe; it still leaves me all tingly inside. Why? Basically for the same reasons it annoys me; because theirs nothing to hate, nothing to run from. Just pure, breezy, fence-balancing, good ole fashioned, un-obvious weather. Yay.

Hurricane, yIKEs!!

I'm sure in comparison to Hurricane Katrina or 9/11 no doubt, my concerns about Hurricane Ike are a little premature and over exaggerated. But, I'm a woman in love and my entire future rest solidly in the hands of D, who is in Houston right now. He has been called to evacuate and plans to seek refuge in a hotel away from the path of the storm with two of his friends. Please think good thoughts for D, his friends and everyone else who may be effected by Hurricane Ike this weekend. Let's hope it goes by quickly and without too much damage.

Thanks, Lotus

UPDATE: He evacuated on time, and he is safe and sound in Louisiana with his family. However many people in Houston did not leave in time and sadly there may be as many as 140,000 people who were caught in the storm. Please keep your hearts and prayers with the victims.