Googling

Googling oneself can be a very interesting experience, and it's something we've all done. But it can prove to be a very different experience for all of us. I googled myself this week. It didn't turn out well, considering I learned that the most note-worthy things I've accomplished so far in my life have all taken place before I reached the age of 20. Making the honor roll in high school. Writing for the high school newspaper (once). Playing on the high school tennis team. I don't think it even mentions basketball. My name listed on the Women's Studies student roster at UMass. Really google?

I've done more important things in my 20's then I did as a high school student, haven't I? Am I really past the point in my life where my accomplishments matter to the general public, or at the least some reporter looking for any old lame story?

I do plenty of news-worthy things. We all do. In fact, I can think of a few potential stories right now:

Living at home aint so bad: 26 year old says she's happy in parent's house.

What recession? Weymouth resident finally gets a job

Sleeping Hungry: Girl learns to go to bed not feeling full.

Seeing the Light: Woman learns to have sex with lights on.

Blogger chick changes title. Soon to change html link.


These are big deals, aren't they? What the heck do I have to do to start being a Google star again?

Suggestions are welcome.

Week 2

So each week until I go to Mexico, I've agreed to post my weight for the entire universe to see. Any by "entire Universe" I mean the 50 people who pretend to care. My goal is to lose 15 pounds by the time I hop on the plane April 1st.

This week's weight: 147.5
Last week's weight: 149
Starting weight: 151

This week I refused the bagels at Monday morning journal club for the first time since I've started working here, and ate a yogurt for dinner one night and didn't even panic. Ahem, it was a big week.

11.5 pounds to go, 9 weeks left...

Text me

Whether I'm single, dating, or in a relationship, my text-exchange game always seems to be the same.

Boys- if you receive a text from someone you are not interested in, and you do not reply, that is probably a smart move. We'll get the hint (...some faster than others). But if you receive a text from someone you like, are friends with, are dating, etc., returning the text is not only helpful for them, it's the polite thing to do, and thats what you probably do. Right?

That, anyway, is what I've always believed. If they like me, they'll text me. If they don't like me, they won't really text me. ...So why have I found myself texting a boy two times in a row? And, on the other hand, why doesn't my own boyfriend text me as much as I text him? I have this absolutely insane routine that I go through with nearly every person I've liked, dated, wanted to date, hooked up with, etc., and I know I'm not alone. Sometimes when I get the text, I'll consider not writing back. "He'll keep checking and there won't be anything from me and that will make him want a text from me even more." There's a rational thought. But then I give in because I'm too excited.

Maybe they just don't understand what it feels like to be expecting a text from someone you like. There is nothing worse than checking, relentlessly, for hours on end waiting for it to arrive. Without my knowing it, I start to say things outloud to myself every time I check with no result. "Of course not" I'll mumble, or "good, keep not texting me." Sometimes you choose a time a half hour or an hour away and promise yourself you won't check again until that time. If I do make it, which is rare, and there is still no text waiting for me, I find myself skipping words now and instead making a noise of disgust outloud. I'm just not sure if that disgust is towards him for not replying, or me for being so insane.

Or how about shutting your phone off so that you literally cannot check it. Terrible move, because when you power it back on and there is no text message, a small part of you will shrivel up and die. Know what that small part is? Your pride, girls. And the only thing worse than no text is receiving a text from someone else. Because whoever it is, I always hate them for not being the right person. Poor mum, all she wants to know is "what you want for suppy?", or it's Dad telling me "i can pick you up from t." Save it, Pops!

I KNOW HE GOT THAT TEXT, I tell myself. I SENT IT 5 HOURS AGO. WHO DOESN'T CHECK HIS PHONE FOR 5 HOURS? It's right about here that I, without fail, decide I am done with this person, because I am clearly more interested than they are and I don't need a situation like that.

Then a few hours later I might receive a text: I smile, I laugh at myself for acting like a crazy lady, I determine whether or not responding is my best move (it always is), and then I start the cycle over.

...Do boys go through this?

Week 1

Meh. I'm feeling discouraged this week. In fact, I am as excited about this past week as I am about having to plug my little brother's blog. Usually anytime I start eating well again and exercising like crazy (...my definition of crazy, not yours) I drop big the first week. So what the heck? And as if publicly posting my weight-loss progress wasn't pressure enough, I told my boyfriend I would lose 15 lbs since he committed to losing 20 lbs before our vacation. Shoot.

Last week's weigh in: 151
This week's weigh in: 149

This week, I'm making some new promises to myself:

1. I will not destroy the kitchen when I come home from Zumba at 8:00 without having eaten. Instead I'll eat a small meal before and go straight to bed at 8:15pm. Doneski.
2. I will re-stick a post-it note with the words "Lani-No" on the chocolate container in the office next door.
3. If there is leftover pizza from the afternoon lectures, I will not dare touch it.
4. I will not skip my trainer's weigh-in, even though I really, really want to.

Meh. 13 more lbs, 10 weeks to go...

(p.s. you can show your support by becoming a follower, maybe?)

I'm all set

There are certain things as a feminist (by my definition, not yours) that I just won't let myself do. Sometimes this can be a pain for the people around me, and I know it rubs other people the wrong way. But I don't care. There aren't many things I stick to, such as an exercise plan or saying "No thanks" to "More bread?", but here are a few I do.

I still to this day have not attended a theme-party with "Ho" in the title. Golf pros and tennis hoes. CEOs and office hos. Pimps and hoes. Really guys? CEO's? Meanwhile, the girls are encouraged to do their best in turning the party into an unoriginal skankarooski-fest. I don't get it.

Pole-dancing workouts. Really people? Doesn't anyone else see the irony in all of this? Are we really trying to emulate this gross, desperate job that employs (mostly) women with few other choices in order to support them and their kids? It's not sexy, it's embarrassing. Stop it.

The day I step into a Hooter's is the day I call it quits in life.

I don't care what we're celebrating, I am not going to the strip club with you. Back in high school, I thought I'd be the cool girl that was just like 'one of the boys', so I was totally up for going. Now I thank God I never did, because he would've said, "shame shame". How embarrassing for me to be there looking up at girls with my same body parts (though much nicer and tighter i'm sure...tighter was a bad word choice) dancing around sliding up and down a poll. Ew. And by me being there, doesn't that make even more of a mockery out of these women, further diminishing their value? Yucko, no thankee.

I don't know if I was successful but I tried to keep this about me rather than insulting anyone else- I hope I haven't. But, if you are planning your birthday or a party that is similar to those listed above, I won't feel bad when you leave me off the guest list.

I don't get it

I've been yelled at before by past boyfriends for asking too many questions. Personally, I thought it was rude. But I've come to realize, through talks with guys, experiences with my own mother, and hearing aunts talk about their own struggles with this, that asking too many questions is annoying. But how else are we supposed to get our questions answered? We're curious people! So today I encourage you to ask away, as I will use today's blog to list a bunch of questions I've never had answered, and things I just don't understand.

Why am I good at Zumba at home in the mirror, but embarrassingly awful in the studio?
How does a plane stay in the air?
Am I supposed to tip a cab driver 20%?
Did everyone else know that Amelia Earhart died attempting her around the world trip??
Do people with speech impediments know they have a speech impediment?
Why is Dick Clark still doing the New years countdown, and is it as painful to watch for everyone else as it is for me?
Who took my "Lani- no" post-it note off the candy jar at work, because it was serving a purpose and now I'm off the hook.
Why do they call it a hummer?
How come some girls have a space between their thighs?
How is Hugh Hefner still relevant?
Is making my bed really that important, and do guys notice things like that?
Is there such thing as a digital camera that takes the picture as soon as you hit the button?
Why are the feet of the Adobe Acrobat leaping man so tiny?
Do sugar-free sweeteners really prevent people from losing weight?
How do guys know what size ring to get when they buy an engagement ring?
Can eating cookie dough or cake batter really make you sick? ...I feel like I'd be dead by now if that was the case...
And does cake ever come into anyone else's dreams at night?
How do people go on vacation and not gain weight?
Am I supposed to tip gas attendants and take-out food personnel?
When you're 26, is it okay to sometimes still drink to the point of vomiting?
When I'm walking down a hallway towards another person, at what distance is it appropriate to first make eye contact?
Is there a correct way to hug someone sitting down while you're standing?
Are there people who don't pick their nose? Besides me, I mean.
Who is my doppelganger? NO ONE :(
Based on lots of conversations in the past week, I'm not sure who collectively hates Valentine's Day more, girls or guys?
When I tell people to follow my blog, and promise they won't get emails or updates and its just so I can see how many people are reading and what type of audience I need to write for, is that not enough?
Am I supposed to carry on a conversation with my pedicurist? Because I REALLY just don't want to.
I expect answers to each one of these by the end of the day, thanks!

Dating

As a 26-year-old woman, I've done some dating. I've dated plenty of people, with plenty of different personalities. The result was stories. Lots and lots of horrible stories. Because when I was in doubt, I did, in fact, do it for the story.

But for the sake of this blog, I decided to come up with a list of advice rather than list these stories. So here is some dating insight for both men and women, from me to you:

Boys,
1. If you want to tell the girl you just met at the bar that you'd have great sex together, stop yourself.

2. If you want to tell the girl you just met at the bar that she has great breasts,... that is not so bad. and thanks.

3. It's cooler to find out that you have a child before we start dating.

4. When you think a girl you haven't introduced yourself to yet is pretty, try to stay away from telling her: "I want to rape you".

5. Do not invite a girl out for a date, bring your work buddy, and spend the night playing fuzbol against another girl.

6. Do not brag about your size with someone you are about to hook up with. We clearly will find out the truth.

Ladies,
1. Do not say yes to a date with a boy who's face you were too drunk to remember. He may just turn out to be old. Very old.

2. Find out what they call "under garments" right away. If the answer is "underweahz", nip that thing in the butt. bud. whatever.

3. "!!!" or ";)" in more than a few text messages is grounds for dismissal.

4. When someone has not returned your call after one date, do not then challenge that person to a game of Jetman on Facebook. ...a mistake I'll never make again.

5. Do not date two men with the almost same name at the same time.

6. Don't, I repeat DON'T go out with someone you met on the T. You will continue to see them on the T. Aaaall the timeeee.

7. When someone threatens to bang down your front door if you don't start answering their calls, ...well I'm sure this would've ended better had I known the right answer, so I suppose you're on your own in this scenario.

8. If you are ending up drunk at the end of almost all of your dates, you are doing something wrong. ...Or are you?

9. When you get a voicemail from the angry wife of a "single" guy you were with once who is demanding you call her back, I suggest you do just that.

10. If a boy tells you on the first date that it's "been a long time" since he last went to a strip club, and you find out he means 2 months, this should be your last date.

11. Ask a guy about his roommates BEFORE you get together. That way you'll know whether or not roommates = wife and child. (unfortunately, an all together separate situation from number 9)

...Good luck!

An epic post

I have just committed to a 7-day, all-inclusive vacation to Cozumel, Mexico on April 1st with my boyfriend, his good friend, and his good friend's (much thinner) girlfriend, who are both awesome. But this has prompted my ultimate attempt to lose my weight (...again).

Today, I go where few women have dared to go before. I've decided that for my 752nd shot at losing 10-15 lbs, I will post my progress publicly. I will reveal my weight for all to see. Boyfriends. Ex-boyfriends. Boyfriends that never were. Girls that are much thinner. Girls that are much heavier. People that dislike me. People that think this is obnoxious. It's here for anyone's eyes.

I have been lying about my weight since I was 6 years old. In second grade, my friends in the next class over told me they were asked to go around the room and say their weight for math class. I was horrified, and immediately started coming up with a number that wouldn't embarrass me just in case my teacher decided to be just as ruthless. But, as I've grown older, I've (slowly) realized that if someone finds out what you weigh, you don't all of a sudden look fat or fatter to them. You still look the same, theres just a number to go along with it.

This morning, world, I stepped on the scale and weighed 151 lbs. I've been higher and I've been lower, but I've finally come to understand that this is just where my body wants to be. This is more than some of the guys I've dated. A chilling thought, for both parties I'm sure. For years, around 13 years actually, I have dreamed of being 125-130lbs. Many of you I'm sure are, or aim to be 110-125 lbs, but that is so low to me it's never realistically crossed my mind. In 6th grade, I wrote in a diary. About every 2nd entry, I'd write about how much I wanted to lose weight. In middle school, I wrote a letter to myself that I read at a later age that stated how I hoped I'd weigh 130 lbs by the time I read the letter. I wasn't. In high school, my English class buried a time capsule, for which I also wrote a letter to my hopefully-thin older self. You'd think, after 13 years you'd stop hoping and just either lose the weight or shut up about it.

But I haven't done either. I have been stuck at this same stupid weight for at least 3 months now, all the while "dieting". I have taken a step that I consider to be major though: I signed myself up for a trainer at the gym... which is another blog all in itself.

So, though no one cares but me, I will try to post my weight weekly in the hopes that by April 1st, I will weigh 140 lbs or less. If the past is any indication of what may come of this, then I will most likely not make it. But, either way, I'm letting you into the world of just another girl struggling with her weight. And through my posts, whether you weigh more or less, I hope this helps you shed any shame you have around whatever your number is. Ready, set, go.

Clothes only skinny girls can wear

As women, the clothing choices available to us are endless. So many colors, so many styles, so many different ways to wear things. But just because something is "in" doesn't mean we can all rush out to buy it. One of my beloved readers suggested a blog about clothes only certain people can get away with. And those certain people are, you guessed it, skinny girls. Here's a short list of things we love on others and hate on ourselves.

Pointy-toed heels with Jeans
I'm so glad these are going out of style. If you're a little heavy, and asking yourself how you can acquire the Miss Piggy look, or what you can do to look as top heavy as physically possible, then pointy-toes are your answer. I say we burn them and never look back.

One-piece Bathing Suits
This one is tricky, because you would think if anyone can and should wear a one-piece, its someone who is overweight. Do you know what it's like to wear one of these things? We get these gross bulges at the hips, where the insanely tight bikini line cuts off all circulation to your legs. No matter what size you try, those legs holes just don't seem to get any looser. And there's absolutely zero boob support, instead it just shmooshes you in and down. If you want to know what you're going to look like as a 56 year old woman, try one on. Be carefult though. With the recent increase in sexy Victoria Secret one-pieces, it's important NOT to get fooled: we will not look like that. I was fooled, obviously, and I tried a few on last summer. I left the store hating myself. ...again.

Corduroys
I only try corduroys on once every, I don't know, 6 years. Every time I do, I'm surprised at how little I was using my brain as I decided to bring them into the dressing room. Anything that makes my thighs sound like they're singing doesn't need to belong to me.

Blazers/Suit Jackets
When a thin woman wears a jacket like this, not only does she look stylish, she looks powerful and professional. When I wear this, I look like a fat, masculine child playing dress up for mock-trial day at school whose body is either lost in the size of a jacket that can comfortably button over my boobs, or desperately trying bust out at the seams of a jacket that is snug enough to show that I somewhat have a woman's shape. I can't win. I've decided that these are no longer appropriate when I interview, as they hurt me much, much more than they help.

Leggings with a short shirt
I even have trouble wearing leggings with a long shirt, ever since elementary school when Travis King yelled out to me that fat people shouldn't wear stretchy pants. Then Kristen Barry yelled back at him, I've been grateful for that ever since KB. I got past that, but I still know enough to not wear a short shirt.

I mean, I'm not sure I even need to mention skinny jeans. It's in the title for god's sake. When these are worn right, on the right person, they look pretty darn hot. But when they look bad, they look BAD. For some reason, there are STILL times when I try to pull off this look. Why, Lani, why?? One time I wore skinny jeans with heels, not boots (very daring, for those of you who don't get it), with a long shirt of course. I went to a party, and ended up falling in the fattest, slowest, most pathetic way possible right onto my butt on the kitchen floor. I took it as a sign from God that I was never to wear that outfit again.

Soccer Momism

This is unlike my usual topics but, I'm feeling worried.

I cringe at the thought of someday being labeled a soccer mom. First, I hate soccer. But secondly, it's so negative. Just hearing "soccer mom" brings up thoughts of an annoying, nonattractive woman driving a big ugly van with no life of her own. Young men use the term to describe women they find obnoxious and young women use it to describe the type of person we don't want to become.

But isn't that where we're all headed? Besides not allowing your kids to play soccer, how do you avoid becoming a soccer mom?

We're gonna get married and have kids, and kids do things: gymnastics, dance, softball, soccer, piano, wrestling, football, band, etc. And we're going to want to support those things. Who else is going to cheer? Or better yet, who is going to drive them? And how do we fit them and all their shtuff and their friends in anything smaller than an SUV or van? I, for one, am trying to promise myself to never drive a van. I think all sexuality slips right out the window the second you buckle up. But really, at some point, we're going to need bigger cars. And how do I get in an accident without being brushed aside as a stupid soccer mom who can't drive?

Not only that, but how you do keep your identity as a woman rather than a mother? I'd love to know before I get there, because I'm starting to feel it may be inevitable.

Now, of course, I'm telling myself that if you're a THIN mom, you won't be as annoying to the world. But to a certain degree, I think men think the same way. Heavier, short-haired soccer moms are found to be so much more annoying. ...Well at least I think that would be the finding, if people were polled. Or maybe this is just me expressing my fears and not giving men enough credit. Either way, I'm going to play it safe and always keep my hair long.

I guess my point is, lay off the soccer moms. They're good people.