Starved

I think I am starving for male attention and affection. The other day, I took a power nap and dreamed that I went to the apartment of my grandma's best friend so that I could make out with Plies. The rapper, Plies. Plies. In reality, this guy has to be a full foot shorter than me and 100lbs, but in my dream, we were eye-to-eye, and I giggled while he kissed all over my neck. It was nuts! I don't see Plies in this way; however, I like to follow his political content. Anyway, in the dream, we were pretty hot and heavy until I looked around the apartment and noticed that we were surrounded by pictures of my family and my grandma's antiques. And while he continued to kiss all over me, I was thinking, How did he get these things? Is that a picture of my grandpa? Is that the little statue she brought back from Africa? All I can make of this is that I desperately need a kiss...and to figure out what happened to a lot of my grandma's things. 

Brotherly Love - The Great Pen Pal Disaster

I want to be friends with one of my Xavier brothers. Nothing gross or romantic. I honestly would like to be his friend because he seems to have a really cool life, and, as a lover of stories, I would love to know more about it. Sadly, befriending men has always been tricky for me. Tricky and awkward. In college, I would often fall in love with guys that I befriended, which would cause some of these friendships to crash and burn. However, that won't be an issue now because I have no more love left to give. It went out the window with my dreams of ever having abs. 

If I am telling the truth, the biggest thing keeping me from reaching out to this guy is because of what happened a few years back. At the time, I was pen pals with two of my Xavier sisters. This was awesome for me, because I love to write and love getting mail. There is something about the written word that is different and way more exciting than verbal conversation. It is for me anyway. I enjoyed being pen pals with them so much that I decided that I wanted to have a boy pen pal too, and I knew just who I wanted it to be: 🍺. 🍺, much like my other Xavier brother, seemed to live a very charmed life. He traveled the world, hung out all the time with his friends and family who seemed to just be in love with him, even though he was hyper and extra, and he had a fulfilling job. This, as you already know, is the opposite of my life. I never go anywhere and can't get my "friends" to call me back. 

So, I decided to ask him to be my pen pal, and I was nervous about it. He and I were not friends in school, and I was afraid that he might think that the request was weird. Yet, against my nervous stomach, I asked him to be my pen pal in an Instagram message, and he wrote me an elegant, beautifully written letter telling me no because he didn't know how to write. I read the message twice and for some reason, perhaps out of hysterical embarrassment, it made me laugh. 

Fast forward a couple of weeks later, I ran into one of my Xavier sisters, Mona, at the grocery store. It is always good to see a college friend! She told me how she lost all this weight working out and eating better, and she filled me in on her new job. And just by chance, I told her about how I asked 🍺to be my pen pal and how he said no. I laughed but stopped laughing when I saw her mortified face. 

"Girl, of course he said no! You know what he thought you meant!"

I was confused. "What do you think he thought I meant?"

"Come on now, Holly. Pen pal. Pen. Penis. He thought you wanted to have sex with him!"

A ringing went off in my ears, and the whole grocery store stood still. Oh my God! There was no way that he thought that was what I meant, was it?

"You know he is friends with THE CREW. He probably told all of them how you slid in his DMs trying to f*&k!" she exclaimed. 

I raced home and read the message over a million times until I began to see all types of hidden meanings in it. I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, not blinking, envisioning him reading my message to the THE CREW and them laughing at me. I wanted to message him to let him know that that was not what I meant, but just in case he didn't think that was what I meant, I decided not to. Plus, sending messages is what got me in that mess. You know, I saw him at homecoming. I spoke to him and he spoke back, but only after his attempt to walk past me failed. Brutal. 

This I think about when I consider reaching out to another Xavier brother about being friends. The last thing I need is another guy I went to school with thinking I want his "pen". 

Special

Can women have a midlife crisis? I know that I had a quarter-life crisis. Maybe I am just consistently in crisis. It's hard for me to tell. I have always been overly reflective and a little moody. But I do find that I have had a lot of questions about life as of late. One question that I find myself constantly nibbling on is when it is a good idea to give up on your dreams. At what point do you accept that you are never going to be a runway model or an NBA player and go get a job at Wal-Mart? Today I wondered if I have been asking myself the wrong question. For me, I think that the real question is, when do you accept that you are not special?

Throughout my life, I have felt that I am special, which is ironic, considering I didn't grow up with any money or any type of privilege. However, I always thought that I was a good writer without anyone co-signing this fact. I felt that I was funny and cool, even if no one else agreed. I have also always felt that I am a little psychic and very intuitive. People generally like me, and I am even a good whistler. As you can see, for a long time, I have been getting high on the supply that is me. 

Because of this, I had very high expectations for myself. I had this amazing life mapped out in my head without really having a plan to achieve it. But that was okay, because I was special, and as long as I stayed true to my dreams, a yellow brick road would appear out of nowhere and lead me to the promised land that was my achingly bright future. 

NOT! 

At my big age, I can tell you I am not special. On the low end, I am someone who does okay at stringing a sentence together, and on the high end, I have an undeserved high opinion of myself that has led me astray. I think that it is beyond time that I come to terms with the fact that I am not special. At most, I am a nice lady stringing together an existence. Sadly, I am under not special. Below average. Unremarkably underwhelming. In about a year, any talent I thought I had will be replaced by AI. I'm humorous, but not really. I just know how to word things in an interesting manner. I'd say that I am useless, but that is not true. There has to be someone around to stand as a proud example of what not to be. And with this in mind, I take a bow. 

It is with a heavy heart that I report that I have most likely wasted half of my life thinking that I am special, and it has gotten me nowhere fast. Where did I get off thinking that I was special in any way? I should have never believed Barney when he said that I was. Jerk. 

Showers and the Blue Juice

My friend's sister had a baby shower and put the photos on Instagram. Balloons, a cute color scheme, games, and food were all present. However, some things were there that clearly did not belong: men.

First, they started using red fluid instead of blue fluid in the maxi pad commercials, now this! Call me old- fashioned, but I love a themed, all- girl affair. Men at a baby shower just doesn't make sense to me, or at least makes as much sense as me sitting in on a stripper-filled bachelor party. I guess the difference is that I would be crashing the bachelor party. The men at the baby shower were actually invited. 

Our grandmothers would have never allowed this. But I feel like today's mamas invite the baby's father and his guy friends to show that the father is on board with the pregnancy. Whether he is on board or not is no one's business! But, because of this need, all the women have to sit in their color coordinated Sunday best while the guys over eat the refreshments and make dumb jokes! 

Good people of the internet: when is enough going to be enough? How much more of the blue maxi pad juice are men going to snatch out of our lives and private spaces? It's enough already, and I demand reform! Who's with me??

13 Pounds

Last week, I had a gyno appointment at the hospital. Like most women, I wasn't jumping for joy for the appointment, but when you are a woman, you can not avoid these things. One of the reasons I was not excited was because I was going to ride into the city with my aunt to save money, and she would drop me off at the hospital on the way to work. I miscalculated how long I would be waiting for my appointment. It was a whopping three hours! When it was finally time for my appointment, I could hardly keep my eyes open! Another reason I was not excited for my appointment was because I was not looking forward to getting weighed. 

Let me tell you, nothing can ruin my day like getting weighed. However, I decided to force myself to get weighed so I could see how much weight I had gained. Even with changes in diet, I was feeling more sluggish and even heavier than usual. I was not excited. When the moment of truth came, I stood on the scale and cleared my head completely, a trick I found keeps me from screaming when I see the usually tragic number. When my weight came up on the digital screen, I was shocked. I had lost 13 pounds! 

This may not sound like a lot to you, but it is beyond a lot for me. I was beginning to think that I literally could not lose weight, seeing that I never do. I have consistently gotten bigger my whole life. I didn't even lose weight in New Orleans, walking to my classes in 120-degree heat! Yet somehow, I had lost 13 pounds. For the first time ever, I was feeling hopeful about my weight. I felt like I was going to burst!

Of course, I had to tell a few of my girlfriends. I mean, this was really momentous! Out of the seven friends that I told, only about half of them seemed genuinely excited for me. The other half had very low energy, disappointing responses. However, I was not surprised. 

For years, my friends (particularly the ones from college) have been hammering me to lose weight. To diet. To exercise. A few years ago, I got serious and tried to diet on my own and was excited to talk about it with my friends. The excitement results were about the same, and this made me sad. I figured that my friends didn't really think I could make any positive changes in my life in this area, or maybe even thought I was lying. 

But after talking to my friends, I realized that the reasoning was more maniacal: they didn't want me to lose weight. Not really. 

This was a sour pill to swallow, but follow me here. Life deals you a lot of punches and a lot of change. Moves. Deaths. Promotions. Layoffs. Loves. Breakups. However, in all of this, there is one constant: Holly is and probably will always be fat. Not just fat, but really fat. No matter how bad or tough their lives were, mine would always be worse because of my weight and all that entails. Even if the worst thing ever happened to them, that would be okay, because at least, at the end of the day, they weren't me. Many of them couldn't even imagine my pathetic existence. No boyfriend. No cute mini dresses. No travel on an airplane. I really do believe that this gives them comfort. A lot of comfort. 

This all sounds horrible, right? Who wants to believe that the people who "love" them would bask in the glory of their bad health? Believe you me, it happens. 

If I lose anything else, I'm keeping it to myself. You won't be able to tell I've lost anything until I hit big numbers anyway. Plus, the lackluster reaction kind of hurts my feelings. Who wants to feel like they aren't supported by their support system?

The Question

What am I doing?

I know what I should have done. I know what I need to do. Yet, I have no idea what I'm doing. At 40, I should know what I'm doing. 

I have friends that are literally running the world. Starting businesses. Making BIG money. And none of them seem quite as lost as me. They seem to be adults. I am not an adult. Not fully. I'd say I'm about 12. Which is crazy, because my body is about 114. 

This has been a question for me for a long time which means I have never answered it to my own satisfaction. This is because I honestly don't know. 

Oh well. Maybe the answer will come to me today. Most likely not though. That I know. 

Doesn't It Feel Good To Pay Less?

I had an amazing, silly dream the other night. 

I had a dream that I was walking through an outdoor mall and came across a Payless shoe store. I couldn't believe it! I walked through the door to find a huge, clean, fully-stocked Payless that looked a lot like the Payless that used to be near my house. 

"Hello, ma'am! Are you okay?" the clerk asked from behind the counter. I was literally standing in the middle of the floor with my mouth open wide and my arms extended. 

"I can't believe it," I said, elated. "All the Payless stores closed where I am from!" I cried. 

The clerk smiled. "Oh wow! Well, we are still open."

I was overwhelmed by joy! Immediately, I ran over to the aisle that had my shoe size. I literally grabbed as many pairs of shoes that I could carry, then dumped them at the checkout counter. At this point, there were other people in the store staring at me. Once I was done finding shoes for myself, I went to the children's section and tried to remember what sizes my niece and nephew wore. Then I grabbed all of those shoes and dumped them at the register. Just as I was about to pay, a deliveryman walked in and began to hang purses around the store. The moment he was done, I grabbed as many of those as I could and dumped them on the counter. The other customers in the store were growing visibly impatient. 

"I want all of this!" I exclaimed. 

I woke up, heart pounding, looking around my bed for my new Payless purchases which, of course, were not there. 

Then, just today, I had a dream during a nap that I was at a Disney park with my family. We were all hanging out in our hotel room when I got a call from Kinfolk. He wanted to let me know that he was at the same Disney park and wanted to meet me. He gave me his address, which I don't remember which sucks, because I heard that when you see numbers in your dreams, you should play them as lottery numbers. 

Anywho, my nephew and I got on a trolley to go meet Kinfolk in the town square. Everyone was so happy around us. We went and ordered food, and Kinfolk and my nephew went to a buffet line. I got annoyed with my nephew because he brought back a literal basket of shrimp pasta. After we ate, we walked around and window shopped for a while when I saw it to the left of me: a brand new Payless. There were huge glass windows and it was way more fancy than any Payless I ever saw. I ran towards it, but woke up before I could go inside. 

I am not sure what all of this means. I am hoping that it means that Payless is coming back with flagship stores. I would be the first one in line!