Tuesday, August 23, 2011

So bad I can't even come up with a witty title

WARNING: This is one of those stories where you could quite possibly think that I am lying, telling a story, stretching the truth...or just all-out, making this crap up. I. AM. SO. NOT. Nothing has been changed, thwarted or even made to sound better and/or worse to enhance the actual story. So, brace yourself for what I'm sure will be somewhat of an emotional journey for you, as it was for me. Today you will get to experience a variety of emotions including intriguement (is that a word?), curiosity, anger, rage, sympathy, hilarious-ity (again, is that a word?) and then we'll hopefully wrap it up with motivation. So, you ready? Here goes...

Last week, I woke up (mid-morning as I normally do), and in usual Danielle fashion, I rolled out of bed and checked my cell phone to see if anyone interesting called or texted me. Facebook sends me my messages and posts via text so I wasn't too surprised when I got a text notifying me that someone sent me a private message on facebook. "Hmm...wonder who sent me a message?" It was a guy with whom I attended high school. "Oh, he must want to catch up or see how I'm doing." As I read my message, I could hardly believe it. For one thing, I had only been awake for a mere two minutes and after reading that message, I started to think I was still dreaming...or perhaps nightmare-ing - because in the land of my dreams, this conversation would NOT occur. Yes, that must have been it. Because surely, no human being would actually (a) say this to me or (b) um...say this to me or (c) have the freakin' guts to say this to me! So, you are wondering what exactly this person could have said to be of the amount of importance to actually blog about it, right? Well, here it is - word for word:

"Dam!!! Danielle I C U havent missed to many meals!!"

Geez. If the guy wanted to reconnect with me on Facebook, a simple "Hi, how are you?" would have sufficed. Was it absolutely necessary to cut me down like that? I was mad as hell. Appalled. Hurt. Pissed. Enraged. As I laid there in my bed contemplating what I just read, I considered which, of my many, responses I could give this asshole. Here's a complete list:

Well, damn, I see you haven't picked up a book since high school. First of all, damn is spelled with an n at the end, not like a water dam, you complete moron. And the "to" you used in your sentence to insult me is actually supposed to be spelled "too". And your use of an extreme amount of exclamation points was a little extreme don't you think? So, yeah, the next time YOU want to insult someone, please, at the very least, use correct grammar you idiot.

Oh, I see you like television too! It sounds like "Snapped" is your favorite TV show. That's good, because at the rate you are going, you will make your television debut soon. Very soon.

Actually, as a matter of fact, I ate a kindergartner back in 2004. I'm still digesting.

I'm sorry, but I recall a certain memory that involved you showing your...ahem...male package... to the entire physical education class when we were in high school. Well, you were in high school. By the looks of things, it appeared your package was still in elementary school and didn't get the memo.

...and those are about all the witty, biting remarks I could muster up. But instead of sinking to that level, I just responded by blocking him from my Facebook. Why would I need that kind of negativity in my life? I don't. And people like that are looking to get a reaction. And I refused to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Most days, I would have really let that get me down. I might have even cried about it. But, I didn't. Because, although it hurt a little for someone to say something so hurtful and rude, I genuinely didn't care what he thought. And that is not a familiar place for me. Usually I care too much what people think. And I don't know where I found the confidence to not care. Maybe what I've lost in pounds this year I have gained in confidence and the self-assurance that I am okay with me.

People will never be satisfied. Especially those who are negative. I guarantee you that if I were to actually loose weight to what would be classified as a normal, healthy weight for my height, people would say I was too skinny. There is just no pleasing some people. And I'm okay with that. Because, strangely enough, that comment came during a time where I was actually feeling very good about myself. Sure, I'm not exactly where I want to be. But, I know I've made healthier changes and I've lost 20 pounds since January. That is progress. Progress that I am proud of. Toot. Toot. And do I still have a way to go? Yes.

And one last thing: Dear A-hole, perhaps you thought your comment would make me want to give up? Oh no. You are sadly mistaken. And for your sake, I hope we never cross paths in public. Because I would hate to insult you with my witty, intelligent, highly sarcastic tongue. 

Friday, August 5, 2011

Of the things to forget, a bra is not one

I have attempted to write several things today. But, it's one of those days where I am at a loss of great words, wisdom or even wittiness.
What I have today is short. However, I hope you find the information useful - like a piece of advice you can store in your mental closet of "never do that".

I forgot to wear a bra to work.

I know right? How does a 31 year-old forget to wear a bra to work? A 31 year-old who is well-endowed? You wouldn't believe me if I told you. So the important information to remember here is that I, chubby girl, forgot to wear a freakin' bra. In the land of this crap only happens to me...it happened.

It wouldn't have been so bad if I were a secretary or something not so mobile. But I am working at a famous chain restaurant (which, come to think of it would have served as a benefit if I worked at Hooters) where wearing a bra is...um...of utmost importance. But by the time I realized I didn't have the bra in the backseat of my car like I thought I did... wow. I just realized how scandalous that sounded. But I promise you - it's so not scandalous. The truth of the matter is, I wish that was the reason I had a bra in the backseat of my car. But the truth is way less, um, sexy. The truth is that I am one of those "I could live in my car" girls and along with three purses, countless pairs of shoes, a few bath towels, a Caboodles make-up case and random jewelry, I was sure I left a sports bra in my backseat after changing from a workout.

I was clearly mistaken.

So, I spent the night sweating like a pig at work due to a lack of support for Thelma and Louise. I made many bathroom trips to grab a few napkins and pat dry. (Don't worry, I totally washed my hands every time...I mean, 80 percent of the time. Kidding.) Luckily our work shirts are a starchy, heavy material that doesn't have good "see through" powers. Otherwise, I'd just be mortified. And also, I did have a tight fitting tank top that sorta disguised my bra-less look I had going on. And just in case anyone (how dare they!) asked about my new "look", I was going to respond with a totally untruthful story about how I had a non-cancerous knot removed on my boob and was unable to wear a bra. I shouldn't have spent so much time concocting the whole lie of a story, but I had to cover all my bases. Because saying, "I forgot to put one on" just wouldn't suffice. Why couldn't I have forgotten socks? Or something borrow-able? But, me? I had to forget a bra. It's not like I could just walk up to my boss and say, "Hey, I forgot my bra. Got one I can borrow for the night? We look about the same size."
Geez. Sometimes I feel, and act, just like a 12 year old.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Chubby girl @ water park...snarky comments need not reply

I remember the summer of 1992 - I was 12. My dad had just gotten full custody of me that summer and was quickly learning that I was indeed a girl and not one of the 15 bratty little boys he was coaching that summer for little league baseball. The point that I was a girl was driven all the way to home base when he received a call from work from me crying on the other end of our huge cordless phone telling him I had gotten my period. I know, right? I think that might have been one of his most horrific moments as a parent. It was definitely one of mine as I made a faulty choice (with lack of motherly consultation) to use a tampon. The first time I got my period. Every woman knows - this is a no no. So, traumatic experience? Heck yes.
Now, you may be asking, "What in the hell does tampons and first periods have to do with water parks?" Well, my dad decided to make me feel better by allowing me to go with him and his little league baseball team to the water park in Memphis - Adventure River. Perhaps you too went in the 90's - it was 'da bomb diggity. I was less than thrilled to attend with a group of meandering little tween boys - who would without a doubt annoy the piss out of the only girl attending within the group. But yet, I was excited to get my swim on. I picked out my most sporty swimsuit and packed my bag. I could hardly sleep that night with thoughts of water slides and wave pools. The drive to Adventure River was nothing short of...well...an adventure with a group of grown men and annoying little shits also known as 6th grade boys. But alas, I almost wet myself when I saw the tips of swirling slides from the Interstate as we quickly approached the park. I was excited. We are talking Griswold National Lampoon Vacation excited. But something about being there with a bunch of boys when I was 12 just made me feel extremely uncool. I chickened out and barely rode any of the thrill water slides. If I could go back to when I was 12, I swear I would push myself up that water slide and show those boys who was the queen of the water park!
That was 19 years ago. But today, I embraced my inner 12 year old. And I mastered every single water slide at the park. And I'm 31 years old. And I'm chubby. And I'm as white as they come. And you know what? In the midst of tanned and toned teenagers, moms who had better bodies than me, little kiddos in their floaties, and most importantly, the  12 year old little baseball bullies who brought me back to 1992, I, 31 year-old, white-as-a-ghost chubby girl rocked the hell out of that water park. And I did it with flare. 

The Accelerator.
Fear scale: 6.
My first slide of the day. I may have had a somewhat difficult time maneuvering myself onto the inner tube, which I am sure brought entertainment to some spectators, but I did the damn thing. (And a little bit of pee may have came out in the process.) Oh, and it should be noted that my one piece suddenly became a thong at the end of the ride. Dear fellow on-lookers, you're welcome.
Bathing suit in my ass scale: 10. 

The Cyclone.
Fear scale: 6-7.
Water rides, like cheese fries, are much more fun when shared. I rode with my friend and nephew. This slide - part in pitch-black darkness and part in the light (which you see pictured), was just pure fun. And I felt like the 12 year old in me was saying, "Finally! A little fun!" My serious 31 year old persona disappeared with the first splash of water.
Bathing suit in my ass scale: 2.

The Pipeline.
Fear scale: 5.
Most fun water slide of the day for me. I rode it three times (he! he!) And I'm pretty sure I said "Whoohooo!!!" Did I make a total idiot out of myself? Yup. Did I care? Hell to the no.
Bathing suit in my ass scale: 8.5.

Black and White Lightning.
Fear scale (before riding): 4
Fear scale (after riding): 9
This was the type of water slide I would not ride that day back in 1992. Partly because I had (um...make that have) an extreme fear of falling off the side of the slide and plunging downward toward my death. But, caution was thrown to the wind today as I plunged down both slides. Would I call drinking a gallon of chlorinated pee water and scraping my knee loads of fun? Not quite. But I did it anyway!
Bathing suit in my ass scale: can't remember because I was checking my pulse to see if I was still breathing.

Fear scale: 7
This ride was kind of like a shot at the doctor's office - the more you thought about it, the worse it seemed. But when it actually happened, it wasn't that bad. Besides the fact that it was completely enclosed and super-fast, it was not that big of a deal. (But because most people thought this was the scariest of them all, I felt like superwoman afterwards).
Bathing suit in my ass scale: 9.5 - I mean, hello? It is called Vortex. What did you expect?

Vertigo. (aka "blue fish bowl" or my personal favorite "Hell's toilet bowl")
Fear scale: off the charts
The definition of vertigo is: a medical condition that leads to a sense of spinning, dizziness and disorientation. Wow. And we pay for that?
I must have had an out of body experience to have ridden this. We've all had the unfortunate experience of flushing Goldie the goldfish down the toilet when he met his untimely death. Well, I'm pretty sure this was natures way of paying me back. Because I felt just like a goldfish...or something else being flushed down the toilet. It all happened so fast that my only thought was, "when will I get to the round bowl thing so it will be over?" And then I landed in a large pool of water and was quite surprised that the lifeguard did not come to my rescue. Since I looked horrified and all. "No, it's ok, Mr. Lifeguard, don't help me. It's not like it's your freakin' job or anything." Yet, my overwhelming thought was, "I did it!" Twelve year old Danielle would have never attempted hell's toilet bowl. But 31 year old Danielle jumped in feet first...because...I mean, that's what the sign said to do.
Bathing suit in my ass scale: Who cared? I was alive.

Usually, I'd be so concerned with trying to not look like an idiot. I normally would have fretted over which bathing suit made me look the least fat and then spray-tanned my way into an oompa-loompa orange so I wouldn't feel like Casper the friendly ghost at the pool. But, today, I did something better. I lived. Granted, it was only water slides. But, I lived it up. I had fun. I didn't give a rip what people thought or how fat I was or any of the other less than appealing things I could have worried about. I didn't give a rip. I looked at myself in the mirror in the bathroom on the way out of the water park - and I saw a girl. I saw a chubby girl. I saw an extremely pasty-white girl with no hopes of ever having a tan. I saw a sunburned girl with a tired face. But you know what else I saw? I saw a girl who had fun.

So, have fun. Do life. Ride the slide. Don't worry about looking stupid. You get one life - so do it.