Meditation on a Mantra

It's been a while since I posted anything.  Here's what I've been up to:

About a year ago, I adopted a new mantra.  I'd never had a mantra before and I'm not sure where it came from, but it's helped me to be a relatively happy me for that length of time.  The mantra--I will cultivate a life I love.  There's something about the word cultivate that really gets my juices flowing.  It brings to mind images of planting seeds with the hopes of reaping a good harvest, pulling weeds from time to time, and getting my hands dirty but having a feeling of contentment.  Cultivating isn't something that will be easy, but it is something that will be rewarding.  

And it has been rewarding.  In the last year, I've played volleyball on several teams, played pub trivia with new people, bought myself a Fillaseat membership to attend cultural events around Austin, set up monthly quirky activities with a group of friends, attended book club meetings, and maintained meaningful relationships with good-hearted people.  I reorganized my entire apartment over the summer so that I know exactly what I own, which means that I no longer feel the need to shop.  I created a new budget for myself with the idea that I will purchase a house in the near future.  I made a new career plan and took active steps to meet the goals I set for myself.  All good things.

But there is one important parenthetical that always went along with my new mantra: (and if I meet a man who wants to be a part of it, then great!).  Initially, this parenthetical was probably the main reason that I formulated the mantra.  I wasn't having any luck with the internet dating and I really wasn't meeting any men out in the world and it was starting to get me down.  I kind of had a "come to Jesus" talk with myself--"Lisa, it is possible that you will be on your own forever.  Or at least for a long, long time."  So instead of doing what I'd done for the last decade--putting all big life decisions on hold because of the possibility that I might meet someone--I decided to create the life I wanted to have, even if it meant I would be on my own.

I think the problem with parentheticals is that they really are always in the back of your mind.  So even as I was meeting up with friends and pursuing the things that I thought would make my life better, I was always hoping a guy would come along and we’d hit it off.  Honestly, in this one year, I’ve met more single men than I probably have in a decade.  There are single guys in my volleyball leagues.  There were single men at parties and outings with friends.  There are single guys at trivia.  Cute ones.  Smart ones.  Funny ones.  Kind ones.  All good qualities.  But it’s so hard to find someone with the right mixture of qualities who also likes your mixture of qualities and then for there to be enough of a spark to get the ball rolling.

So here I am.  I really am enjoying life so much more these days, but there’s still something missing.  I guess without completely deleting that parenthetical from my manta, I’m never going to be rid of that sensation.  But do I really want to delete it?  Do I really want to believe that I can be completely fulfilled on my own?  I think that’s the sort of thing we all tell our single loved ones to put a patch over the holes they have. 

The thing I dread the most is the idea that it might be time to give internet dating another go.  I guess that's part of getting my hands dirty...

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?

The Stand-ins

There are reasons human beings couple off.  And when you've not been in a relationship for 98% of your life, like I have, you have to find coping mechanisms for dealing with everything you're missing out on by not having that other half.  My own greatest coping mechanism are The Stand-ins.

Stand-ins do exactly what you'd think--they stand in the place of a romantic partner and perform the functions that your ideal mate would.  Now, a Stand-in doesn't necessarily have to be from the gender you'd prefer your mate to be.  He or she also doesn't have to fulfill all of the roles described below.  But it's important that we single folks find ways of meeting these emotional, social, and (yes) physical needs somehow.  The Stand-ins are all we have.

Over the years, these are the roles my own personal Stand-ins have performed:

Date Nights
I've always been somewhat of a tomboy; among other things, when left to my own devices, I would almost always choose to wear what is comfortable over what is attractive.  But there are definitely times when I want to dress up and I want to feel pretty, damn it.  The Stand-in isn't usually aware for the fact that I'm using our fun night out as an excuse to feel like I'm pretty, but that's what's happening.  In the last few years, I've even started going so far as to purchase tickets waaaay too far in advance for events that might turn into these fake, emotionally and sexually bankrupt dates.

Flirting
Since the invention of instant messaging and texting, everyone wants to be in on the fun of e-flirting, don't they?  I certainly do.  Hopefully the double entendres and teasing comes off as my own silly, dirty brand of humor to these Stand-ins.  I have to practice these skills on someone, don't I?


Occupying Head Space 
When you're single, there's great danger that you'll become selfish and self-involved.  One of the things I like most about being in a relationship is that I have someone other than myself to think about.  It might be "I wonder how he's doing today?" or it might be "oh, he'd really like this movie".  Pretty inane stuff.  But it keeps me from focusing too much on my own thoughts, wants and feelings.  These Stand-ins are the ones I text out of the blue with random comments, questions and pictures.

Snuggling and Snogging
The need for physical connection is just a part of who we are.  I'd say that about 95% of the time, I take care of the snuggling issue by wrapping myself up in my Snuggie or hugging my cat, Willis.  But there's only so much love a cat can provide before it takes a turn into Creepville.  Over the years, there've been a few male friends who have filled in for this role a mate would provide in my ideal world.  The absolute best Stand-in was a roommate I had once who would cuddle on the couch with me nearly every evening.  Then there were those days of drunkenness in my youth when a (sometimes gay) male friend and I would look at each other through our booze goggles and say "why the hell not?" and make out with each other until the wee hours.  Now, I know there are people who've struck up friends-with-benefits situations with friends who will do more than just snog until the wee hours.  I've never been able to have that kind of casual intimacy with someone, but more power to 'em, I say.  Single, dateless people have needs, too.

Major Holidays
There are two types of holidays that are difficult to navigate as a single person.  The first are the holidays in which the entire world expects you to have a date--the dreaded Valentine's Day, or VD as I like to call it, and New Year's Eve.  VD is a single person's worst nightmare.  VD just won't go away.  It's impossible to ignore VD.  For several years, one of my Stand-ins was My Platonic Valentine <3.  The first year, he bought me flowers (he was actually the first and only man to ever do this) and we went on a double date with my best friend and her Stand-in for the evening.  Another year we were in different states, so we each purchased a bottle of wine and rented a movie.  We called each other, pressed play at the same time, and watched the movie together over the phone.  That's still the best VD I've ever had.  New Year's Eve is a different beast.  Whoever came up with the tradition of kissing someone at midnight deserves to be killed in a firing squad by all the single people on the planet once we build our time machine.  My Platonic Valentine stood-in for me one year and we just stared at each other awkwardly at midnight, but mostly my girlfriends are the Stand-ins for this holiday.  We would just hug each other or kiss on the cheek at midnight to occupy ourselves while couples around us made out.  It did get awkward once they all paired off with boyfriends and husbands and I was the only one left without a date when the clock strikes midnight--Where do I look?!  What do I do with my hands?!

The other type of holiday, that might even be worse than VD and New Year's, are the holidays you're expected to spend with your family--Thanksgiving, Christmas, and sometimes Easter.  If you're a non-single reader, think back to the last time you had to handle your family solo.  Now think about doing that for every single holiday since you've been alive.  It's ok for the first 20 or so years, but there comes a point when you've been living apart from your family long enough that spending an entire day or, worse, series of days pretending like you still live at home is a living nightmare.  A nightmare that you want to share with the person you love most in the world.  Sometime in college, I started inviting a friend or multiple friends to join me at my mom's house for holidays.  I just think of those Stand-ins as the spouse or children I'd bring were I married.  They help with the cooking, watch whatever sport you're supposed to watch that day, laugh at my mom's jokes, and act as a great buffer until I, cross your fingers, have a family of my own.  (Love you, Mom!)

Emotional Support
This is the most important role of a Stand-in because, in my opinion, the hardest part of being single is not having that one person who knows all your stuff, who actually wants to hear about the problems with your boss or the memory you had from your childhood today or what you had to eat that day.  The average, casual friend does not want to hear about these things, and should you share too many of these small details of your life with the casual friend out of sheer desperation to talk to anyone, you can be sure that you won't be seeing that friend much in the future.  The Stand-in for emotional support is the most generous of the Stand-ins.  He or she understands that you spend the majority of your time outside of work completely alone and that if you don't tell these things to someone, you are sure to create an imaginary friend or to start holding conversations with your cat.  Most of the support is small, but I've been especially grateful to these Stand-ins when shit in my life has gotten real, when whatever is going on really is too much for me to handle on my own.  The worst fear with these Stand-ins is that I'll wear out my welcome, after all, we don't have the motivation of sex or shared property or whatever to keep us together.

If you're reading this, and you realize that you've been a Stand-in for me, thank you.  You've helped me make it to 31 without completely losing my mind.  I hope it's never been awkward or an inconvenience.  And, no, it's not a paying job, you whore.