The 20 Year Itch

 As a senior in high school, I made a lot of promises to myself. I promised myself that I would be famous and an award-winning writer/editor. I promised myself that I would get skinny and marry a hot guy. I promised that my life would be full of adventure. If you know me, you know that none of these have happened. But I also promised that I would never return to my high school, and that is one promise that I plan to keep to myself. My 20-year reunion is coming up, and I absolutely have no intention of attending. 

I. Hated. High. School. And when I log in to Facebook and see updates from the reunion group and see that people are actually excited to go to the reunion, I am in disbelief. I can't believe that sat in classes with people who were having such a dramatically different experience than me! Although the reunion will not be taking place at my old high school, returning to be in the same space with my old peers would be the equivalent of returning to the scene of a crime. I am simply not here for the drama or the inevitable trauma. Maybe by my 30th year, I will be healed enough to go and peek my head in the door but not today Satan. Too soon. 

Depressed

I am depressed. 

This really shouldn't be news, because I am pretty sure that I have been functionally depressed my entire life. I remember being so, so sad all the way back in kindergarten and just being told that I was overly sensitive. I remember sitting at the club in college, wanting to cry for seemingly no reason, and being told I was just a drag and a downer. However, this depression feels different. 

I trace this surge in my unhappiess to the beginning of the New Year when I decided to go on this diet. Well, what was supposed to be a positive move to improve my health has plunged me into all day, every day negativitity. And as you have probably guessed, it is not going well. I am pretty sure that I have not lost so much as an ounce. This of course makes me feel like a failure, which is not exactly good for my already plummiting morale. Quite honestly, I am about two seconds from giving up completely. It is too much. It is a trial. And I am not good at trials that are too much. Anyway, I will never be as small as I always dreamed of' anyway; small enough to where a bikini to the grocery store or nab my dream man, so what's the point? Oh, I forgot. Life. 

Wow, I really must be depressed. I don't even feel like whining anymore. Okay then, until next time. 

Love and Middle Age 3: The Story of Stupid

In my recent conversations with TAFKAS, he told me stories of his friends and their unrequited loves. And the message that I took from these stories is that you should let people know how you feel when you have the chance. This is a very, very dangerous message for me because I just might do it which, in my case, is the easiest, quickest, safest way to embarrass myself. 

When I was in college, I had a crush on this basketball player and literally wrote him a 4-page letter and enclosed it with a kiss. Well, I didn't actually kiss it. My friend AJ did because my lips were chapped. I then doused the letter in Victoria's Secret body spray before putting the letter on this windshield. Luckily, God woke me up in a panic the next morning and I was able to run outside and retrieve it. THANK GOD! If he would have gotten that letter I have no doubt that he would have HUMILIATED ME! I would have had to move back to Atlanta and live under an alias. 

Then there was the Sigma that I wrote an erotic poem for. I read the poem to a couple of my co-workers and they gave me positive feedback which should have been my first clue that I was spearheading into a no-bueno situation. Luckily, Tortilla was there to bring me back to life, back to reality. "Don't message this to him. Don't," she said in a very stern voice which was odd, because her voice is usually so sweet that it sometimes sounds like she is singing when she talks. "If you ever get the urge to send this to him, send it to me, and I will respond like I am him, okay? Promise?" I promised, and again thanked God for having good friends. 

And then there are these two men at my church, I will call them Thing 1 and Thing 2. The Things are so nice to me and they love God and they are both hot in their own way. When I talk to them it is very, very difficult not to kiss them. This should tell you how hard I am crushin', because I think that kissing is disgusting! "Don't kiss him", my friend Ken said about one of the guys. I didn't tell her about the other one because I assumed the response would be the same. Again, thank God for good friends. 

But of late, I have been depressed, hungry, tired, sad, alone, and feeling like I am on an island. All of these things are the recipe for me doing something potentially stupid. I mean 4-page letter kind of stupid. Today I fell asleep while I was working and dreamed that I was making out with new crush (Do you see how kissing of some sort is usually the foreshadowing to these crises?) at my dead Great-Grandmother's house. It felt like I was really there! Family Matters was on the TV. Nana loved that show! This is not good because I believe that dreams have meaning...I am just not equipped to tell you what they are. If I had to guess what this dream was telling me, it would be that my deceased Great-Grandma was on board with me reaching out to this man that I don't really know and who doesn't know me. My inner me, which is consistently wrong, is telling me to reach out to him. 

Y'ALL PLEASE PRAY THAT I CAN MAKE IT TO THERAPY NEXT WEEK WITHOUT MAKING A COMPLETE ASS OF MYSELF!! If I can't get a grip, I will become one of TAFKAS's tragic stories. I am well on my way. 

Don't Speak

In most of my friendships, I feel like I am the chaser. I am the one that calls and checks in and sees how everyone is doing. I like talking on the phone and catching up, but everyone in my life is busy with their kids, relationships, and work, so they don't be having time like that to chat which, I'm going to be honest, makes me sad. I feel like I am by myself all the time, most likely because I am. But I have grown tired of being the one always reaching out. It makes me feel stupid and like a nuisance. So recently I decided to just leave folks alone until someone calls me. My biggest fear was confirmed: no one missed me. Sigh. I'm so tired of feeling like my feelings are hurt all the time. Tired of solitude. It all just makes me want to lay down someplace. Don't worry ya'll. I start therapy again next week. 

Taking A Knee

By the grace of God, I have been an overweight person that never had issues with their knees...until recently. 

At the beginning of the year, I decided to become more active. I lounge around my house like a cat and move as little as possible. So, coupled with my meal prepping (which has been awful), I decided to try to be more mobile. BIG MISTAKE! Not long after this decision, my right knee started to act up. I feel like I'm having a flashback! During the pandemic, this Delta I went to college with who was way skinnier and healthier than me up and died out of nowhere. This scared me to the point that I vowed to do more water aerobics. After my first day back in the pool, I woke up the next day feeling like my right leg was about to pop off. I had pulled my hip flexor, and for months, I was hobbling around the house in tears. Since I am uninsured, I just tried to nurse myself back to health with a delicate mixture of Bio Freeze, Tigar Balm, a hot water bottle, and Ibuprofen. It was the worse time of my life. I am now seeing a pattern: exercise = injury. But I have to get moving, so I have just been dancing on my stomach while listening to bounce music with my FitBit on. Just so you know, twerking on your stomach to "Shake It Like A Dog" by Kane and Abel on repeat will burn you a good 500+ calories easy. 

Anywho, I do not do well with pain or discomfort. I have been sleeping extra still as to not upset my knee, which has been both painful and uncomfortable. 

Thinking back on how this all started, I have to blame my clumsy nephew. He came in my room to get something and fell on my already tweaking knee with the full force of his 50+ pounds. I screamed and he ran out of the room. Now, here we are. 

Luckily, I can still get up and move, but I do so slowly, scared to upset my knee, which is now running the show. I creep around my own knee like it's a sleeping baby. It really is tiresome and annoying. But at times like this I have been told it is best to count your blessings, which I'm scared to do. I don't want to injure a finger. 

VDay the Hard Way

By the grace of God, I made it out of another Valentine's season alive. 

What a nightmare. What a f*&king nightmare, as most of life is for the terminally single. 

I made the mistake that I make every year, which is trying to combat the horrors of Valentine's Day with a positive attitude. Bad. Idea. There is no way to combat VDay! It's like a long, brutal period cramp. You just have to grit your teeth and get through it without losing it and ripping out your own uterus with your bare hands.  

The BS started as soon as I put on my Positive Patty Valentine's Day hat. I decided to organize a Galentine's Day/Gift Exchange to try to get ahead of the inevitable VDay depression. I was actually excited! The person I chose in the exchange is really nice and I was eager to get her something cute and festive. The Galentine's party turned out nice and everyone had a good time except me of course. As it usually goes with every gift exchange I have participated in since Girl Scouts, I was the only person that didn't get a gift. I guess no one picked my name or the person who did just didn't care. YAY! 

So the Galentine's celebration was all the proof needed that Valentine's Day was going to be a no-bueno situation. Yet I chose to power on, RSVPing to go to the single's mixer at my church. I wasn't going to go, but I had ordered these beautiful velvet heart earrings and as we all know, once earrings have been ordered, you have to go! And to my surprise, the event was beautiful. The single men at the church organized it and it was awesome. There was music and cocktails and food and entertainment. But who had a panic attack and had to go home before the party really got started? THIS GUY! I spent the rest of the night crying that good cry where your head hurts and you end up feeling hungry and like you are going to gag at the same time. I called Winfrey and sobbed in her ear until I was sure that I really was going to puke. It was the type of magical night that all girls dream of. 

Yet the finale was the actual Valentine's Day, as it always is. I found myself spending a large part of the day daydreaming about all the unrequited love I have experienced in my life while laying silently on the floor, staring into space. Ah, good times. 

An Aunty at my church challenged me to reflect on how I can make Valentine's Day a more positive experience. I told her the only thing I could honestly think of, which was taking enough sleeping pills to keep me asleep from February 11-February 16. She told me to pray about it🙄. And honestly, I do owe God a shoutout. Somehow, I was able to bypass all the engagement announcements and "look at what he got me" social media posts, and we can all agree that was a blessing. 

Well, until next year.

Worth The Weight

When I was but a young fatty in middle and high school, music videos on BET and MTV were everything to me. This was back when the show Rap City stayed on for like five hours, and when Carson Daly was the man. Like many of the horny young boys I went to school with, my favorite part of the music videos was the women. If only I could be as sexy as the women in the DMX feat. Sisqo video for "What You Really Want"; if only I looked like the three Kims, Latoya and Tina. I can't think about how much time I wasted fantasizing about getting so small that I could show up at school in a jean FUBU short set. This I think about as I choke down the yogurt and tuna in my meal-prepped breakfast and lunch. 

I love you so I can't lie to you: meal-prepping has sucked butt cheeks. By my third week of doing it, I had stopped eating breakfast and lunch altogether. That's right, I got to a point where I would rather starve than eat the carrots and salad that I had prepared for myself. Eating these joyless meals was actually making me emotional and depressed. I mean, how many blueberries can one person eat?!

Last Saturday when I went to volunteer, I overhead the 20-something volunteers talking about what they were doing to manage their weight. And I say manage because if either one of these three girls lost so much as a pound, they would die. I interrupted the conversation when I heard one of them talking about putting some type of thick weightloss powder into their water. I just had to know how they are able to stay so small. They talked about not eating until they were full, not snacking, drinking meal replacements, exercise, all of which sound horrible to me. They talked about being hungry but deciding to eat what was best while still trying not to allow dieting to ruin their lives. 

Looking at these three beautiful young women, I realized that they had to be keeping something from me. How could they be content drinking Slim Fast shakes while everyone else had pancakes? Later in the week, it came to me: the one thing that keeps them small, more than the fad diets and cleanses, is the fear of getting fat! But I am already fat, so where does that leave me? I guess the fear of dying would be a motivator if I didn't already feel dead eating this nasty food. 

Somewhere along the line, they also got comfortable with being hungry and even not eating for long periods of time. This is something that happens young, for I remember watching those Lifetime movies about White girls with eating disorders and vowing to starve. I was typically binge-eating cookies before the next movie came on. 

I think I would be okay with dieting if anyone had been honest with me about how sad it would make me. Since I can't swallow my emotions with food, all I do is sit around and mope, thinking about hurtful things that have happened to me that Cheetos helped me to forget. So, I'm laying here feeling everything, wishing I had a piece of cake. IT'S A PARTY! 

Unlike the other diets I have tried, I am going to try to stick with this one. My doctor says that my goal should be losing enough weight to lower my blood pressure and cholesterol. My goals is to lose enough weight to bone whatever single/divorced African Alpha is available at my college homecoming. Whichever comes first I guess. 

Full disclosure: I had a piece of fried chicken for breakfast this morning because I didn't do my prepping yesterday. Rookie mistake. I'm really trying guys.