Homecoming Post 5: No Socials and the Flashback (part 2)

Friday at around 6pm- Admittedly, after spending Friday afternoon at the University Center, I was prepared to order food and go to bed. However, I just didn't come to New Orleans to nap. So I slowly got ready to go to the Homecoming Day Party. Sadly, by the time I got there, it was nighttime. 

The venue was really, really cute. What wasn't cute was the amount of marijuana smoke in the air. I know that everyone smokes today, yay legalization, but I HATE the smell. It gets in my hair and it's gross. On top of that, there were a lot of younger students/alumni there and for the past few years I have done everything possible to avoid young people in my social space. I am like a 70-year-old woman. I only go to movie matinees. If I go to the mall, it's at 10am on a Sunday. Wherever they are, there tends to be pot smoke, gunfire, fighting, and exposed ass cheeks. No thanks. 

I saw a few people from my class that I knew and had a few chit-chats. I even ran into Britain, who was lit off of cocktails and marijuana edibles. I asked for one, he extended his hand to me in offering, but I thought better of it. The only thing that was going to keep me going that night was an injection of Red Bull into my forearm and someone taping my eyelids open. 

Just as I was about to get up and leave, No Socials walked down the steps beside me with a blunt in his hand. 

"Hey!" he said happily. 

"Hey, did you find your people?" I asked him. For some reason, I had the impression that he was alone at homecoming and had decided to come last minute. 

"Yeah, just like you remembered me, other people remembered me," he said walking about eight feet in front of me. He stood there, lean like a pole, and faced the direction of the DJ. He then pulled out a lighter and lit his blunt, bobbing his head to the music. Watching him exhale a large cloud of smoke,  the stomach pain came again, this time a little more apparent. 

"Ouch," I murmured to myself, taking out my phone to get a Lyft ride back to my Air B&B. I am a trust your gut type of person, but there was really no issue that I can think of. Listen yall, repressed memories are real. 

Scary to be Single

I saw a lot of awesome, life-like, terrifying costumes on Instagram this year for Halloween. However, for me, the scariest thing about Halloween was being single. Single and 36. Single and 36 at a church single's ministry Halloween mixer. Single and 36 at a church single's ministry Halloween mixer where 90% of the guys there were under 30. Everyone was so young there that they didn't understand my costume or lack thereof. I wore my camouflage maxi dress and told people I was a No Limit Soldier. No one got the joke. 

For about an hour I sat in the corner nibbling on a zebra cake, wondering where I went wrong. The music was good. I mean, you haven't lived until you've seen young Christians two-step to Kendrick Lamar. And God knows I love a good Little Debbie cake. But sitting in the corner alone, away from the comfort of my blanket and space heater, was just too much. I wanted to go home so badly that for about five minutes, I sat with my eyes closed, attempting to teleport. Spoiler alert: it didn't work. I quickly and discretely left the party, stood by the church sign and cried while waiting on my Lyft ride. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what I call a fun Friday night. 

You know what else is scary: I still have hope in finding love. I am nearly 40, I own nothing, I'm overweight, and it has been so long since I washed my hair that I'm afraid that if I take off my bonnet, a long, Rapunzel-esque deadlock will fall to the ground in a midst of dust and caked up Shea butter flakes. Yet I still can not shake this very real desire to share my life with someone who will think that my turbo-dread is cool...before doing me the favor of cutting it off in my sleep. The eternal optimism of the stressed-out mind: it's a real thing. 

When I got home, I took off my dress, slipped into an old tunic that I wear as a nightgown, laid down and stared up at the ceiling while sucking on a jolly rancher that came in the goody bag from the party. At least I had candy to get me through the night which was the best Halloween treat of them all, word to Mia X. 

Socialite Anxiety

Once upon a time, Holly was a we bit of a socialite.
I was that girl that you would see shivering outside of the club in a sleeveless dress with no coat because she just had to go to the party and be cute, even though it was cold and windy.
When I first started blogging I would go to the opening of an envelope if there was going to be a VIP pass and food involved.
I enjoyed dancing and mingling. Many a night I came home hoarse from trying to speak over the loudspeakers at an event. There was just something cool to me about waking up with a club stamp still on my wrist.
On NYE as I got my wallflower on at a NYE party, going through my phone while everyone socialized, I realized that I may not be that girl anymore. These days, I have taken a liking to watching reruns of The Golden Girls on Youtube while giving myself a pedicure. Although it was good seeing everyone, I just felt tired and like being a loner. Dare I say, the energy I once had to be a social butterfly  has dwindled significantly. Having to hang out with about 50 people in a space makes me want to lie down and take a nap.
I can not tell you if this is a sign of depression or of getting older. But at this really fun NYE party, I came into the door ready to go. And it was so much fun! What wasn't fun was me. I felt uncomfortable and out of place, which has never been me socially, ever!
I hate to use the word anxiety because everyone uses it loosely, throwing it around like a frisbee. But that is how I felt at the party: anxious. As soon as I walked in, I just felt in the way, and noticed immediately that everyone looked better than me and was just generally better than me. Can you keep a secret? At one point during the night, I snuck into the room where they were keeping the coats and laid down, and by the time the new year came in, I was already walking to my Uber.
I don't want to lose the fun me. I like fun me. She's...fun! But she was not in the building on NYE and I am afraid she may leave the building for good if I don't do something. But I don't know what do. I will keep you posted on either my progression of regression.

Late Post: Celebs at 50 Shades of Bae in LA

On Tuesday in Los Angeles, Terrence J. Hosted the #Bae #50 Shades Party. There, Lance Gross and Terrence J unveiled the sexy pictures taken as a campaign in conjunction with the release of the hot, highly anticipated film 50 Shades of Grey, which hits theaters today. As the pics below illustrate, the event was star studded!

Birthday Breakdown

On December 18, I had my birthday party. It was at this amazing hotel downtown with a perfect view of the city. Sadly, everyone RSVPed and hardly anyone came. However, I was not saddened by this. The people I loved most came, my friend Felisha came from out of town and brought this awesome natural girl along, and I had food left over. Some people called out, others didn't. I just have the feeling that many didn't want to pay for parking. Which is sad but understandable. Downtown Atlanta parking on a Friday is a mess.
Yesterday, on my actual bday, I went to the mall, had lunch with my Atlanta Felisha, and went to go see The Princess and the Frog. I was excited to see a black princess, although the last Disney movie I saw in the theatre was The Lion King, so sadly, I kind of dozed off for five minutes during the movie. That night, I bought a marble cake and some vanilla ice cream, stuck two huge number candles in it and made a wish. Can't tell you what the wish was silly. That's against the rules.
I kept myself busy for my birthday as to not start feeling down. I always have a birthday shindig, but very rarely am I happy for my bday. I do believe that I will be that post-menopausal woman that cries on her birthday, because I am damn near in tears when my bday rolls by now in my twenties! My positive friends see each year that passes as a blessing. As a positively negative person, I see each year that passes as a reminder of all the things I have yet to do and all the things I need to do.
At the gym the other day I told a sistah, who is maybe in her mid-40s, that I am turning 25. She told me that I am in the prime of my life. I am hunched over my computer surrounded by boxes, loose pieces of paper, and clothes. I know that I am in my heart, but forgive me if I don't feel like it.

Taking a "Break"

Picture it: Thursday night in Downtown Atlanta. A very chic young reporter and her adorable BG buddy Chrissy were at an invite-only event at one of the city's newest, hottest salons for the revealing of a fashion line. Ahh, the first 20 minutes was a blast. We had Vodka cocktails and fancy chicken on a stick. It was lovely.
Well, one of the perks of the evening was free services, such as manicures and massages. If you did not know, I am a sucker for a message, so Chrissy and I sashayed over to the message area for some complimentary back rubs. Here is where the story goes South.
I looked down at the massage chair, which did not look like it could support a woman of my...my...magnitude. So I politely asked the masseuse if the chair was fat people friendly. What does that mean? For my weight-impaired friends, it means is the chair sturdy? Will it support me? And the masseuse said and I quote, "Of course! It is people friendly."
So I cop a squat on the chair and it felt study. So the masseuse begins to press down on my back...hard. He said I was tense, which was no surprise, and as I close my eyes to enjoy the message, the chair broke! It simply snapped beneath my weight. Broke. I felt bad because the free messages was a big part of the event, and I was only the second person he'd done. The night was still young!
With the speed of light, I apologized, grabbed Chrissy, tossed my empty cocktail cup, grabbed my gift bag, and bounced. And can I say that Chrissy was the perfect getaway driver? I jumped in the backseat and she hit the interstate with no questions asked.
So why did I leave? Well, as you can imagine, I was embarrassed. I just really wanted to go before word spread around the shindig that I was the one that broke the chair, and since no one had seen it happen, I couldn't think of a better time to leave. Might I add that being fat embarrassed is NOT my style, but the crowd was very to-do like. Those gay designers in leotards would have been relentless!
We were halfway to my house when Chrissy suggested I look in my bag and see if I had all my stuff. I am NOTORIOUS for leaving things, particularly my phone. So I check my bag and notice that I am missing my tape recorder. Not only did I have three interviews on it that I needed, but it also hat my name and job title recorded on it.
Hearing this, Chrissy busted a U-turn at Six Flags and we were headed back to Downtown. By the time we returned the venue was packed, so I was able to slip in and slip out, unnoticed. However, I had butterflies the whole time. I just knew that my face read, "I am the fat bitch that broke the chair! Point and laugh at me!"
Sadly, this is not the first time this has happened. In the 7th grade, I broke my stool in the orchestra. Sophomore year of college I went to church and sat in a pew, breaking it instantly. The summer before that, I went to my friend Chloe's house and broke one of her dinette chairs. However, I was not sad about that. She got it from Ikea, and we all know that their stuff is not sturdy. Now this.
What did I learn from this situation? Well, I learned that I can not ask if something is fat people friendly. I thought that this guy may have been on my wavelength, seeing that he wasn't small, but no. As a professional fatty, I have to look at the situation and assess the fat people friendliness of the situation myself.
I have heard many weightloss confessionals where fat folks have said that breaking a chair or something had them running to the gym. But since I am already there, there was only one place for Chrissy and I to go to end our evening. You guessed it, Krispy Kreme! There is no better way to end a FATastic night that with three hot original glazed.