2009 has wrought some newness.
Well, technically the end of 2008 wrought the newness, but close enough.
I started a new job. It’s better paid but with more stress. Boo. I’m going to be completely gray by the time I’m 35, I just know it. I work for a celebrity line. And yes it’s with the actual celebrity and not her duly appointed ciphers. She’s one half of a sister act, except the other sister is more famous for partying and federal inquiries than actually acting and well, working.
And I have a brand new boyfriend. He’s super anerable what with his freckles and all. No longer a fat girl on a date, but a fat girl dating. Well, not so much with the dating anymore but in a “relationship”. Whatever that means. We’re planning the inevitable mini-break and he’s cooking up something special for Valentine’s. Hooray!
When will you start with the inevitable bitching? Well, right here, mes amis!
I almost got completely fucked over by my sweater mill. Apparently the factory manager never put my samples into work despite getting the comments on 1/12/09. I needed them for a photo shoot this THURSDAY.
And then she takes off of work. For vacation. In the middle of the busy season. WTF. Blah. If I hadn’t said to myself, “self, you should shoot them an email about your samples” I would have nothing but a pink slip in my hand. This way *crosses fingers* I have narrowly averted disaster.
Apparently Mercury retrograde is real and it is a son of a bitch.
Add comment January 28, 2009 maydarling
Back from my entirely too short vacation.
And it was too damn short.
But! There was good eating and good shopping to be had.
Syl and I had two excellent afternoon teas. Once was at the lovely Great Room at the Grosvenor House Hotel and the other was at Liberty. Scones and clotted cream are wonderful things. My mouth is watering just thinking about it.
Also, we had the world’s best brownie…and I do mean the best in the entire world, as I know it. Borough Market, the Flour Power stall. Go get some now.
We went to my favorite Vietnamese place and had the spring rolls and sweet & sour prawns. Deliciousness.
We also found the best Starbucks on two continents. On a little side street from the Liverpool Street tube stop there was a delightfully empty S’bux that whipped up the best coffees ever.
Let us not forget the shopping. Oh the shopping
We got matching grey suede boots that actually FIT over our calves. And! They’re pull on, not zip up!
I got a beautiful cream wool, basket woven winter coat, a skirt, two tees, two satin tops and a pair of jeans.
I am thinking of going back in November to see Paul Weller @ Brixton Academy. And to shop more.
But I must get furniture first. That is unavoidable.
Add comment October 5, 2008 maydarling
A week from today I shall be in Merry Olde. I’m excited. But also sort of filled with trepidation. I have to work a crapload of overtime this week to make enough money to make it worth my while. And the trip itself is so short. It’ll be a whirlwind and then back home to the daily grind
But in other news, I ran into him on the street a couple of nights ago. I thought it would be all awkwardness and such. Not so much. It turned into a rambling, ambling stroll to my front door where he proceeded to natter on about all sorts of things. It was all an excuse to hang around me longer.
So, aside from the crappy drama, I think we’re getting back to a good place. I hope we’re getting back to a good place, not the least of which is because he lives in my neighborhood. And to answer your burning question, yeah, we hugged and kissed and stuff.
And it was still good.
Add comment September 21, 2008 maydarling
I am at a crossroads. A crux, if you will.
And damned if I don’t have anyone to talk about with. Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck.
And yes, I know I have a potty mouth.
And I am super impulsive when pushed.
Better yet, don’t. I have anything to give anyone.
Add comment September 17, 2008 maydarling
Sylvia and I *finally* booked our trip.
2 more weeks and then we’re off to (say it with me now) “Lon-don, Engaland.”
We’re staying in this swank ass hotel in The City and, yeah. It’s gonna kick some serious ass.
So, I’ve recently discovered that all my little Guy & Gallard delivery boys are in love with me.
They slip extra fruit and bread in my delivery, they offer to carry my bag back to my desk for me.
All this extra male attention these days is starting to freak me out. Especially since none of it is coming from the person I want it to.
Frustrating, esp. considering our last meeting was so sweet.
Late summer heat, wandering around the city, hand in hand, exchanging kisses hot enough to melt steel.
Getting tingles thinking about it now. Dammit. I should go shower.
Add comment September 15, 2008 maydarling
*Warning, this post could be triggering.
Such a charged word.
I was made aware of something that someone had been “aware” of for quite sometime.
Aware…shortened form of be aware…or, beware.
Should I beware of the awareness?
But enough vagueness.
Back on OT stuff.
So, I tried to hold out against the hunger. But it didn’t happen. I’ve been so friggin’ tired lately and when I’m not sleeping enough, I get hungrier. I got in early to work this morning and danged if I wasn’t able to get my morning coffee. Coffee gets me through. No caffeinated goodness for me today, though. So I was ravenous.
I found myself begging my co-worker for crackers and cheese to tide me over. But I ameliorated the effect of that by passing them out to other people. But then I turned around and ate two cookies, a cup and a half of Coke (classic, my stomach is in such disarray that I literally cannot tolerate the fakey sugar), and 1/4 of a garden salad w/ grilled chicken.
This was after having chicken pot pie for dinner at my desk last night.
I feel as if I should have more willpower than this (that’s what my eating disordered brain keeps telling me), but my stomach is saying, “no, dammit, EAT! I am here to digest and take in nutrition, don’t starve me you stupid bitch!”. And now my head is joining the feed me chorus with a slight headache with concomitant woozy. I just *love* the woozy.
Maybe it’s an emotional thing, but food doesn’t hold the same pleasure that it used to. Therefore I can’t get excited about it. All I want to do right now is take a nap. Naps are verboten at work.
Also a good word: verboten.
Also. Found a cheap trip to London with Syl for the end of the month. Happy.
Add comment September 11, 2008 maydarling
Yes, that is taking a line from Adele or Gavin DeGraw.
I love those songs. They’re a fairly apt lyrical desciption of my romantic situation at present.
I found myself provoked into doing something really, really fucking stupid. Like, retardedly stupid.
I regret it. I wish I could take it back. I let my past experiences cloud my judgment and that’s never a good move.
I’ve apologized but it doesn’t matter. And that makes me sad. But I’m not going to press the issue.
I can only say again:
I’m very sorry.
And we can build through this destruction
As we are standing on our feet.
So, since you wanna be with me
You’ll have to follow through
With every word you say
And I, all I really want is you,
You to stick around
But you have to follow through.
…Am I to obvious to preach it?
You’re so hypnotic on my heart.
or…even more sappily, but truthfully…
But, if I tell the world, I’ll never say enough
Cos it was not said to you
And it’s exactly what I’ll need to do
If I’d end up with you.
Should I give up
or should I just keep chasing pavements
Even if it leads nowhere?
Or would it be a waste
even if I knew my place?
Should I leave it there?
Add comment September 10, 2008 maydarling
I went out Sunday night. Which I should not have done. But whatever. Syl and I were supposed to go to the cheap show of Bangkok Dangerous. But there were no more showings until 9:30. I wanted to be home by then, watching Gossip Girl. Did that happen? No.
Having put forth in my first post, I am a fairly recent addition to New York. As such, I haven’t had the time (nor the ducats) to actually outfit my bedroom. Thus it is that I still am sleeping on an air mattress (a really good one!) and bought a rolling closet to supplement my small wall closet.
And when I say the time, I really mean I haven’t had the time. I’ve worked a full-time job since I’ve gotten here and I go out almost every weekend. My life has gotten in the way of my decor. Basically my room is just so much storage for clothing. And shoes. Let’s not forget the shoes.
Just when I was ready to do the whole bedroom in one shebang, my rotten family summoned me back to Chicago. And I couldn’t stay in my childhood home. I had to shell out for a hotel. WTF. And apparently, I only have 1 aunt who is ok with me staying with her. Unfortunately, she is the aunt that owes me close to $1000.
The short shot is that not only did I have to spend my decoration ducats on airfare and hotel (plus meals and getting around), but my aunt still hasn’t coughed up the other $920. So the air mattress is still in effect.
Also a monkey wrench in the plans is that my eating disordered Texan bf owes me a substantial amount of cash as well. I would have been fine to wait until the cows came home to get a bed and such. Except for one, small, tiny, insignificant detail.
My bed sprung a leak.
While I was out with Syl.
I managed to give it a decent little patch but…that’s not a real solution.
Also, I had planned to get a bed for the express purpose of testing it out with my whatever, but that is not a possibility at this point. Sucks, but that’s drama I’m going to keep to myself. That was another reason I was willing to wait on the bed situation. Can’t do that anymore.
So now I have a dilemma:
Use my next paycheck to get a bedroom set
Go to London.
Random switch, right? Let me explain.
I love London.
I ADORE LONDON.
So much so that I’ve been there almost every year since I turned 23. I went multiple times in 2004 and ended up living there for a bit. I am jonesing for a bit of Merry Olde right now, aside from the fact that I am overworked and burnt out on my shitty assistant job (that pays me minor, minor ducats). Taking a trip to Texas (to hang out with the person who owes me a crapload of money) isn’t going to cut it. Especially when I have 2 days off for Rosh Hashanah.
Anywho. If I did back out of the trip, I would be disappointing Syl, who I am scheduled to go with. I really don’t want to disappoint her. Really, I don’t. And it would only be another couple of weeks. I’d get a bed as soon as I came back to the States.
Wow. I just read my rationalization. I think I’ve made my decision. So much for practicality.
Add comment September 10, 2008 maydarling
So, I am going back down the slippery slope of ED. Boo that shit.
And it doesn’t help that one of my bff’s was once (and still is, to a certain degree) anorexic.
I’ve gone from having BED to Ana.
I just had the following conversation with him (my bff and gay husband):
Me: “My headache is better because I’ve eaten.
Him: “Oh, I used to get those when I was super skinny.”
Me: “It was because I hadn’t eaten in a while.”
Him: “Yeah, that’ll happen.”
Me: “I’m on this thing now. I feel like everything is so out of control: my work life is out of control, my personal life is in the shitter.”
Him: “That’s how I was.”
Me: “Yep. If I can’t control anything else, dammit, I’m going to control my body.”
Him: “I feel you on that one. I looked fabulous then, too.”
Me: “If you want to think that. You looked sickly, like you were deathly ill.”
Him: “If by deathly ill you mean fantastic, then yes.”
Me: “Your eyes were sunken in your head. That’s not fantastic.”
Him: “But I wore a 28 jean!”
Me: “And that is the end all, be all, isn’t it?”
Sigh. Why can I give such straight up commentary to others and not myself? As a fat girl who has always been fat. It’s true. I went looking at my baby – toddler pictures. The last time I was “thin” was when I was around 3-4. From there I plumped up and just grew proportionally out. Like nesting doll versions of myself.
My other bff, who lives in Texas, is whining about how fat she is and she wears a size 6-8. Just recently she bought a size 10 jean. A 10. I haven’t seen a size 10 since about the time I was 10. She is nowhere near fat. Not at all. Even at her fattest, she was an inbetweenie – size 14/16.
If she’s not in a size 2-4, then she’s fat and a “failure.”
It’s just my misfortune that I happen to work in the fashion industry. The fucking epicenter of all eating disorders. And you know what? Starvation is so eminently acceptable to the alternative – happy fatness.
I am surrounded by colluders who think it’s great that I’ve dropped 20lbs in a month. When did it get to be ok to starve yourself? When did society decide that that was a good fucking look? Why am I still so fucking SUSCEPTIBLE TO IT?!
In the meantime, I am grumpier than usual.
My nails are brittle and they’re not growing like they used to. My nails used to be long and strong and pretty.
My hair has changed texture and isn’t growing like it used to, either.
My skin is also showing the signs – I’m breaking out horribly and I used to not break out like this.
It is all pissing me off.
So much so that I DID order the chocolate cake to go with my cobb salad (no blue cheese – baby steps people). But it may just sit there…Or maybe not. It looks fucking DELICIOUS.
I did have one small act of rebellion: I got the ranch dressing for my salad. And I USED BOTH LITTLE CUPS. Hoorah. And it was tasty.
Add comment September 10, 2008 maydarling
Apparently, I am a singularity.
So says my “whatever”.
We were on the phone yesterday. (by the by, I hate telephone conversations. I’m much better in real life…or writing.) And he asked me what I was doing. I was surfing about in the blogopshere, specifically the fatosphere and the femisphere and listening to experimental jazz from the 70′s. Don Ellis, who composed the music for The French Connection.
I expressed my dislike for Tyrese Gibson. I think he’s too skinny, too overly muscled and slightly greasy. He laughed that extraordinary laugh of his at my descriptors. I think I melted a little bit hearing it.
And then he said: “I can’t make you out. You’re so different from other girls. (no shit, Sherlock)”
Long living with the knowledge that, at least in my particular culture, I am a singularity is nothing new.
The girls on the block dreamed of being a part of SWV or the next Mary J.
I nursed fantasies of being the next Jessye Norman and idolized Kathleen Battle.
The girls on the block wore tight colored Guess? jeans and matching Coach belts with the latest Jordans.
I wore baggy blues and plaid shirts with ballet flats.
The girls on the block wouldn’t have been caught dead with glasses on.
I wore oversized tortoise shell Geoffrey Beene spectacles.
The girls on the block read Zane and tittered over her salacious pages.
I immersed myself in Dante and Swift and Fitzgerald.
The girls on the block pored over their idols in Word Up! and Sister 2 Sister.
I charted the rise and fall of empires in Time.
Later, after I left the block and went to university, I continued to stick out like a sore thumb.
My classmates rhapsodized over the poetry of Tupac and Biggie Smalls.
I was stretching my musical knowledge with Nirvana, RATM and Soundgarden
They were organizing spades and domino tournaments
I was busy collecting comics and writing fanfiction
They were soaking up Higher Learning and Jason’s Lyric.
I was entranced by X-Files and The Phantom Menace
When they made plans to travel to Atlanta and feast on chicken and beer
I was in London discovering the thrill of eating crisp spring rolls as Piccadilly bustled beyond
And later still, after joining the adult world, it continues.
Add comment August 24, 2008 maydarling