Summar Slump

Today is my first official day of summar.  No, that's not a spelling error; only pronouncing it "summar" gives summer the proper amount of simultaneous excitement and dread that a single teacher like me experiences at the start of this season each year.

One of the reasons you become a teacher, apart from wanting to help kids and stuff, is the guaranteed vacation time: three days at Thanksgiving, two weeks at Christmas, a week for spring break, and a little more than two months off every summer.  What they don't tell you is that you won't be able to survive in the teaching profession without all that time away all the demands of the job.  And they definitely won't tell you about the summer slump.

In my first several years of summer vacation as a teacher, I didn't have this sense of dread.  I went into summer like a kid, excited about spending time at the pool, sleeping in, and hanging out with my friends.  I spent those first few summers as a seasonal alcoholic with friends who were still in undergrad, grad school or who were just loafing about until they figured out life.  That kind of stuff is still socially acceptable when you're 24. Not so much when you're 31.

The further you get away from college, the fewer friends you have who are able to hang out with you in the middle of the day.  It can become a lonely, lonely time filled with conversations with your cat, not-showering and sleeping like a factory worker on the night shift.  You can really lose your sense of time, place and self.  Sure, there are other teachers you could hang out with, but the truth is that as much as you need a break from students, you also kind of need a break from coworkers by the time June rolls around.  There's also the high probability that most of those coworkers have children, which greatly affects either the activities available or their available time.

And the older you get, the more you realize that you really should be spending some of that down time taking care of adult responsibilities like getting your oil changed in your car because it probably resembles hot fudge by this point.  I'm not sure if this habit comes from my Midwestern mother who has probably the craziest work ethic on the planet, but summer has become a time of goals for me.  Goals I rarely accomplish, but goals nonetheless.  Here are this summer's goals to meet some adult responsibilities and stay busy enough to avoid the summer slump:

Lose the weight I gained over the course of the school year
This school year I made the decision to sponsor the student council at our high school.  It was an effort to find a new challenge, and, boy, did I find one.  The magnitude of what I'd taken on hit me sometime in September, which is when I started stress eating and avoiding the gym because of sheer exhaustion by the time I left work.  By the end of the year, it was a rewarding experience; however, I carry around a pound to help me remember each of my StuCo officers.  As much as I want to remember those kids, I don't need to carry around the extra baggage.

Use all of the Groupons and gift certificates I've accumulated 
Here's more of a glimpse into my neuroses--I have five Google calendars, people.  Five. One for student council--coded green.  One for work appointments--coded blue.  One to schedule in grading time because it's impossible to get all the grading of an English teacher completed during school hours--coded red.  One for training (clearly I didn't stick to that one very well this year)--coded orange.  And, finally, one for my own social calendar--coded purple.  While I am able to be social during the school year, it takes a lot of planning to make it happen and it's difficult to squeeze in unexpected events sometimes.  And my eyes are bigger than the free space in my calendar.  This year I've purchased Groupons for Dolce Vita (eek!  It expires tomorrow!), The Melting Pot, and a pottery class for two.  I've also been gifted a generous gift certificate for cooking classes at The Silver Whisk and a gift card for an Aveda salon.  Time to mark those things on my calendar!

Write more
When I started this blog, I set some goals for myself, none of which I've met.  It's time to finally write the saga of Hotel San Jose, for cryinoutloud.

Read more
Through the accountability of my book club and a long-distance friend, I've managed to read a few books over the course of the school year.  But now it's time to devour them.  Some of my favorite summers have consisted of me and a series of books keeping each other company until the wee hours of the morning.  It's time to curl up with David Sedaris, Margaret Atwood, and many others to have a giant literary orgy again.

Ensure that I no longer have summers off
I'm sure there are people reading this who hate me a little for complaining about summer.  All I can tell you is that I hope to no longer have summer vacation by the end of this summer break.  My plan is to spend at least part of each day working to find a new job (today I bookmarked a bunch of jobs for which I'll be applying in the coming week--check!).  As much as I've loved the creative aspects of teaching, enjoyed the relationships I've formed, honed my craft, and developed a love/hate relationship with summers, it's time for me to try something new.  At least until I long for summers again.

The Perks of Being a Fat Girl

Mama's big boned-ed, y'all.

(Mama is me, in case you didn't know)

I've been overweight since I was about 11.  There are countless complaints I could attempt to innumerate like: listening to skinny bitches complain about how fat they are, listening to skinny bitches talk about their eating habits, listening to skinny bitches comment about how fat other skinny bitches are, and other things about skinny bitches.

However, instead of focusing on the more annoying, sometimes downright maddening, issues related to being a larger lady, I've decided to begin my blog commentary about life as a fat girl by discussing some of the brighter points of this life I've led.

Now, in case you're thinking, Lisa, you skinny bitch, you aren't fat! here's my statement of truth about my size:  I've hovered between the heavy side of normal and the lower side of obese on the BMI chart for my height and fluctuated between the larger sizes in the women's section and the lower sizes in the WOMEN's section since high school.  So, no, I'm not as large as some ladies, but I'm definitely not skinny.

Now, here are the perks I've experienced as a lady of size:

Cushioning
Two weeks ago, I was trying to not let a cat out of a friend's house, missed a concrete step while walking backwards and went crashing down on my derriere.  Now, if I was a twig, I'm convinced I would have snapped in half.  Instead, I landed with a buoyancy that let the rest of my body sort of float to the ground.  I came away with only a sore rear end and not the concussion I surely would have had without my layer of fat.  Cats and children also seem to enjoy the extra layer of love I carry around.  It's good for napping, apparently.

Feeling Secure
Speaking of others who love the layers, don't forget men.  Now, not every man likes a little cushion for the pushin', but the ones who do...really do.  I don't think I'm really large enough to attract men who like the Big Beautiful Women, but, wow, those men really dig some bigger ladies.  They seem to worship them with a fervor that you don't see in men who like your average size 6 woman.

Also, I've never worried that a man was only after me for my looks in the way that my blonde, size 2, model-like friend may have worried.  I generally feel pretty confident that the men who are interested in me may find me attractive, but mostly they like my intelligence, humor or some other aspect of my personality.  And I usually feel pretty confident that they are secure enough in their own manhood to date a woman who does not necessarily fit society's version of beauty.

Being a Ringer
Nobody expects the fat girl to be good at sports.  So when you run a 10K, people give you a ton of support.  And when you play volleyball, the other team doesn't usually expect you to be able to break serves or spike the ball.  I've used this misconception about chunkiness to my advantage since I used to kick ass on the soccer field.  Plus, I could knock the other girls down with a quick jab of my powerful hips if i wanted.

Singing (and Dancing) Along to "Bootylicious" 
There are songs that skinny bitches will never fully understand.  Destiny's Child's "Bootylicious" is my favorite of them all.  In college, my best friend and I changed the lyrics to cause my body's too flab-ilicious for ya babe.

I shake my jelly at every chance
When I whip with my hips, you slip into a trance
I'm hoping you can handle all this jelly that I have[...]
I don't think you're ready for this jelly

Being Friends with Skinny Bitches
There's a lot of competition in the world of women.  I don't think we always know what we're competing for, but we're doin' it.  And doing it with all the passive aggressiveness we can muster, dammit.   But the nice part of being flabby is that a lot of women do not view you as a threat when it comes to men.  Perhaps I'm wrong, but I think I've moved in and out of circles of female friends with much more ease than if I'd been a size 4 and hot.  Everyone trusts the chubby girl!

Eating
Sure, plenty of people judge you when you're chubby and you order dessert at dinner even though everyone else in your party is doing the same.  But at the same time, you got chubby for a reason: you allow yourself to actually eat (and maybe you go overboard sometimes).  I watch some of my thinner friends count calories, workout tirelessly, and pull out their hair to remain thin.  I've been there during times when I've tried to lose weight, and it can become all consuming and, frankly, can take some of the joy out of life.  Not being as stringent with my food means that I can say yes to a request to meet someone for brunch or I can have a few beers.  And, best of all, I'm not that whiny girl who clearly wants to eat a piece of cheesecake but just picks at it or stares at it longingly whilst drinking her ice water with cucumber for flavor.


The Boobs
This is probably my favorite part of being a chubby girl.  When I lose weight, my boobs feel droopy and sad like all their friends the fat cells moved away and they can't seem to perk up from the loss.  But when I'm a little chunkier, my breasts feel like two torpedoes ready to fire jiggly hotness in any second at the next man who glances at my decolletage.


And, finally...

You get to say big boned-ed.

Hey fellow chunky gals, what are some of the perks I left out?

Secret Single Behaviors

According to The New York Times, "1 in every 4 American households is occupied by someone living alone."  The article goes on to discuss some of the strange behaviors that humans cultivate when left to their own devices, away from the civilized world.  I will now cop to some of my own Secret Single Behaviors (SSBs) I've developed in my 8 years of living alone.  Beware: some of it isn't pretty.

Being a Filthy, Filthy Human Being
Now, if I know that people are coming over or if I have people visiting on a regular basis, I keep my humble abode pretty tidy.  The cleanest I've kept it in my adult life has been when I've had boyfriends or when I had weekly parties at my place.  But 99% of the those 8 years have been spent with me knowing that people pretty much do not come to my apartment ever.  Therefore, shit can get crazy.  Piles of laundry in the dining room.  Plates from dinner on the coffee table.  Plastic bags from HEB and Target flying about my apartment like the most beautiful thing in the world.  And personal grooming can become an issue, as well.  Some weekends, if I don't have a reason to leave the apartment and join the world, I may wear the same clothes and not bathe until Sunday evening.

Interesting Fashion Choices
Often when I come home from work, I know I'm not going out again.  That means shoes get kicked off and go flying into a pile of laundry or stack of books.  Pants drop and may not leave the spot where they fell.  And I may do one of two things--walk around for the rest of the evening in the nice shirt I wore to work and my underwear, or change into "house clothes."  House clothes are the items you never want any living person to see you in.  Some of my prized items include:

• a nightshirt my mom gave me for Christmas when I was in 3rd grade that now barely covers my ass and is so thin that you could see straight through if it weren't for the giant Santa hat wearing bear drinking cocoa on the front of it;
• a heather grey deep v-neck tee from American Apparel that has a hole the size of a cantaloupe in one of the armpits (this might be worn with comfy pants, but is more often than not worn with just underwear);
• a pair of red gingham pajama pants with hokey sunflower trim around the ankles, of which come up around my calves because I've had them since high school and have washed them so many times,
• my burnt orange UT Snuggie;
• a men's large pullover hoodie that is most comfortable to wear with the hood up;
• and any kind of fabric headband to keep the hair out of my eyes.  My current favorite has green, shiny sequins on it and makes me look like a flapper.

But my favorite fashion choice is no choice at all.  Hanging out in the buff is the way to go, my friends.

Taking Far Too Many Baths
Hugh Grant's character in About A Boy has that segment in which he describes how a man can be an island if he uses his units of time correctly.  Baths are something that fill up units of time for me.  Bored?  Take a bath.  Really bored? Take an hour long bath with a fizzy bath ball or eucalyptus scented bubble bath.  Use the time to meditate, shave your legs, get creative with *ahem* other shaving, or turn on some music and sing along because the acoustics in the bathroom really are the best, and the neighbors in your apartment complex surely love your singing voice.

Singing--A Lot
The silence of living alone can be deafening at times; therefore, the radio, my record player, itunes and Spotify are my second favorite companions in the apartment.  I will put my Bonnie Raitt record on the player and sing along with side A for one week while I make dinner and then flip it over and listen to side B the next week.  It's best when you listen and sing along obsessively to really be able to nail those notes, you know.

My Cat is My Friend
Willis is my favorite companion at home.  She's really the only one I have to talk to, unless I'm on the phone. And I talk to her a lot.  If I had a recording device running at home, I'd like to count the number of times I say the following phrases:

• "Whatcha doin, Willis?"
• "Hey pretty girl"
• "You're so pretty"
• "You're a good girl, Willis"
• and, for good measure, "What the hell, cat?!"

Technology is Also My Friend
When there's not a human to interact with, sometimes technology can fill the void.  Movie marathons!  Did you just spend an entire week watching Pride and Prejudice with your students?  Well, then...you absolutely must watch the 6 hour A&E version immediately!  You don't know how many incarnations of Mr. Darcy Colin Firth has played?  Well, look it up on Wikipedia and get swallowed into clicking on link after link for at least two hours.  No one is around to rush you, so you should just take your time.

What's Happening with the Neighbors?
When there's very little activity going on within your home, sometimes it's easy to get wrapped up in what's happening with the neighbors.  Of course, I never talk to them directly or look them in the eye.  I do my best to avoid leaving my apartment when they're walking by.  One summer, I had particularly noisy neighbors.  I'm convinced that I was awakened in the middle of the night by this woman and one of her many boyfriends having sex outside.  I was also convinced that she was a prostitute.  She had so many men in and out of that apartment at all hours of the day--I don't know what else it would have been.  This is just one of the stories I've concocted in my head through stealthily observing my neighbors through the blinds.

And, of course:

Thanks, PostSecret.

Care to share any of your SSBs?