Most Normal Girl
.: The Girl :.
.: Recent Posts :.
.: Archives :.
.: Other Fun Reads :.
.: Sites I Frequent :.
.: Credits :.
Template By Caz
Powered by: Blogger
.: Disclaimer :.
By visiting this site, you read at your own risk. I am known for errors in grammar and spelling. If you become less intelligent by reading this site, become incredibly bored, or are disgusted by what you read - you were warned. Furthermore, I will not be held responsible for ANY mental, emotional, physical, financial, or spiritual damage to you, your friends, your family or strangers. I apologize to my friends and family if I embarrass you. I reserve the right to edit any and all comments on this blog. I also reserve the right to humiliate you if you dare say anything negative about me, my friends, my family, or strangers who I like.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007Two Years & Fabulous
I remember how fabulous I used to be. And it wasn’t all that long ago, if I remember correctly…
There were days when I could literally just look at a guy – and I had him. My sorority sisters in college even gave me the nickname of “smooth operator.” And I was.
In 2001, my dear friend Carrie got married. I was one of her bridesmaids. At the time, I was single. Because Carrie lives about 500 miles away, I took a few flights that year to get ready for her big day. During one of these trips, I was standing in the airport at a window. I was watching the guys outside move luggage, hook up trucks, pump sewage, etc. One of the guys was kind of cute so I kept an eye on him. After a while, he noticed me, too – standing in the window with a then-friend. He smiled at us. And kept coming back to our window to smile… and smile… and smile. While our terminal was at least 30 feet above him and while there were no words, there was definitely chemistry. I tried to ask him his name… he showed his gloves, “Blake” was printed across the top. Nice. My friend and I scavenged for a piece of paper so I could write my name in large enough letters so he could read it. And my phone number. He asked (after about 50 failed attempts) when I would get back into town. “In 3 days” I tried to communicate. 3 days.
Needless to say, I heard from Blake (who turned out to be dumber than a post). But I knew I would. I used to have a confidence about myself that I KNEW I could get guys. I knew how to manipulate situations: which light made me look good, which clothes made me look good, how much confidence to exude, how much of a smile to give… all of it! I was a champ! And while it may not seem so right now, I wasn’t cocky about it! I’ve never considered myself a “beautiful woman.” But I do know how to show off the best parts. I’ve even met guys while sitting in my car on the freeway.
Over the years, my shine has become a little dull. While I still consider myself fabulous, I don’t have the *thing* that I once did. Part of is probably age. Another part might be my genuine disinterest in all of those “chemistry” games. And still another part might be the fact that I’m in a relationship and don’t really care what other men think of me.
But every now and then, I want to be that young, pretty, sexy, girl that I once was. I want to look at a complete stranger and know that I got him. I want to be wanted. And while it still wouldn’t amount to much, it would just make me feel good.
Tonight, Blair and I celebrate our two-year anniversary as a couple. Two-years: a milestone in my book. (Everyone should cheer HOORAY!) This is the longest relationship I’ve had with a guy and most days I’m REALLY, REALLY happy. To celebrate, I’ve decided that I won’t change into my frumpy sweat-pants when I get home. Instead, I’m going to be that fabulous woman he met two years ago; the fabulous woman that still shines bright inside of me.
Friday, March 09, 2007What The Hell Is Going On?
I'm still a twenty-something year-old girl - but I'm sooo into the twenty-somethings that I may as well start calling myself pre-thirty-something. At this stage in life, I should be over acne. Right?
I don't know what is going on but some weird new form of acne is attacking me. And in strange places. I got my second zit on my back this past week (the first time I got a zit on my back was in high school and I thought it was because I had made out on a park bench - you never know what life form is living on -or under- a park bench). But then I got a zit on the bottom lid of MY EYE! MY EYE, PEOPLE! Who gets a zit on their EYE?! Do you know how totally strange and unnerving that is?!?! Do you?! And do you know what I thought when Blair so lovingly pointed it out?!?! I thought of Igor from "Young Frankenstein" (Marty Feldman did such a great job in that role) and how I was turning into a bug-eyed weirdo. "I don't want to be ugly!" I cried out before running to the bathroom to poke and prod the thing.
The zit on my back is now gone and this THING on my eye is slowly going away. But I can't help but to feel paranoid - what's next? And what the hell is going on that I'm getting acne in strange places at 28?
This old age thing sucks.