Seasonal Unsexy Disorder

Ugh.

I’ve got a bad case of Seasonal Unsexy Disorder. Here are some symptoms in case you fear you may also be affected:

1. Inability to wake up more than twenty minutes before you have to leave for work.

2. Inability to work out.

3. Pouring orange juice on your Multigrain Cheerios.

4. Desire to eat a candy bar at 11 A.M.

5. Meals consisting of take out and vending machine purchases.

6. Ability to drink an entire bottle of wine without getting up.

7. Willingness to sit through inane television programming. (How else do you explain Jersey Shore’s popularity?)

8. Desire to crawl into bed at eight o’clock at night.

If you have one or more of these symptoms, you may want to have a friend kick you in the butt.

What Seasonal Unsexy Disorder symptoms do you suffer from?

Sexy Means Doing Things That You Don’t Want To Do

In college, I decided to take the one and only opportunity to live abroad and opted for Florence, the birth of the Renaissance, amazing cuisine, and if I had learned nothing else from “Underneath the Tuscan Sun” – beautiful men.

I spent a month or two bouncing from bar to bar, avoiding and entertaining catcalls before I met Lorenzo.  We spent the remaining months talking daily, constantly teetering between friendship and a relationship. Upon leaving Florence, I was a little heartbroken leaving Lorenzo and the relationship we had built in such a short time.  After returning home, I moved to New York City for an advertising internship and within a few weeks, I received the call that would impact the next two years of my life: Lorenzo had missed me thoroughly and to prove it, he’d bought a ticket to visit.

His timing was perfect – things were rocky with an interim NYC boy and I was just about to embark on a trip cross-country back to Texas, where I went to college.  Somewhere between Niagara Falls and Detroit, Lorenzo and I had found a way back into each other’s arms, just as if no time had passed. By the time he left Austin to return to Florence, he had convinced me that despite the distance, we would somehow work out.  It took a bit of convincing, time, and calling cards, but I ultimately fell hard. We had a complex relationship for many reasons – differences of culture, class, educational background, religion, government, and perspectives on the world. He didn’t understand my career passion. I didn’t understand why he wasn’t pushing himself to a better life. Despite several trips across the great blue ocean, countless calls, and heartfelt “I love yous,” we didn’t make it.  It took a good year to stop the daily calls, the promises of visits that never happened, the expectation that somehow it would all work out.

The problem is, I knew deep down that I’d never be standing across from him reciting my vows.  I knew he wouldn’t be the one I looked up towards after coddling my baby for the first time.  We were simply too different.  But I loved him with everything I had and there’s something to be said for that.

We’ve kept in touch through the years, awkwardly asking about the other’s dating life, and always ending the conversation about how we needed to plan a trip to see one another.  The other night, I received a call from Lorenzo. He told me that he still thought about me and truly thought that I might be the one for him.  He continued, saying that he needed to see me, needed to answer those questions – but perhaps most of all, he needed to stop comparing his other, new girlfriends to our relationship.  With sadness and a deep breath, I told him that I didn’t have those questions, and that I was quite clear that we weren’t meant to be together.  He responded graciously and quickly excused himself from the call.

I found myself confused and crying soon afterwards, mostly because I felt I’d hurt someone that I do really care about.  But perhaps more so, because I was choosing to close a chapter of my life, and I had clearly drew the line that we would never really be together again.  I could have considered the proposition, and his visit, but it would have only been for selfish reasons and I couldn’t have lived with myself.

But maybe that’s just what sexy is – making hard life choices, trusting in your instinct, and knowing that the short term difficulties will all be worth it for long-term gain.  It’s hard because it’s a courageous choice to be honest even though it might hurt someone you love.

I sexily choose to stand on my own until my instincts tell me otherwise.  Buckle up, this could be a long ride.

Minty Fresh

All I wanted on Monday night was to get home and collapse. Once I did, I put on my sweats, made some dinner, and by 9:30 PM, I was in bed. Despite my desperate wanting to collapse, I felt pretty good.  Sexy 2010 was underway, and thus far a success (as measured by not indulging in the cookies, King Cake, or homemade biscuits that had sat all day in my office).

So, Sexy Boyfriend and I are hanging out in bed, relaxing, when I notice a bluish hue stuck to his sideburn and cheek. I immediately think it is a blue raspberry Airhead, because of its consistency (but more likely because I am dieting and food is what comes to my mind instantly – really, no matter what).

But oh no, ’twas not an Airhead, just the toothpaste I managed to  spit onto the end of my ponytail, and consequently transfer to the bed’s white pillows and my boyfriend’s face. Oh, sexy new year, how you always manage to foil me. On the bright side, the light scent of peppermint was a nice side effect.

So sexy tip #1 for the new year, folks: Tie your hair in a bun, rather than a ponytail, to avoid those not so sexy moments in the bedroom.

New Year, New You, New Post

What would a year of sexy be without a million resolutions to aspire toward? And, of course, high of that list is…

Revamping The Year of Sexy Blog!

So, prepare yourself for a brand new year of sexy – and of course, not so sexy – adventures.

Oy…

So, what a couple of weeks it’s been.  There was:

1.) My Marketplace piece.

2.) My breakdown upon reading all the comments people posted about me feeling entitled and not working hard enough when they only know 350 words of my life story.

3.) My realization that if you want to be a writer, people are always going to have an opinion about whatever you are writing about.

4.) Two phone interviews.

5.) One road trip to Pittsburgh.

6.) One in-person interview.

7.) One trip to Boston.

8.)  One night when I drank approximately eleven margaritas, then bought a stratch ticket and thought I won $60,000 dollars.  I had not.

9.)  My saying goodbye to my part-time job of the past three years.

10.)  A job offer.

11.) My quick acceptance of said job offer.

12.)  One call for an interview that came after I accepted the job.  (When it rains it pours, I suppose).

13.) My strange realization that I will be moving to Pittsburgh, which strangely followed the usual stages of grief: Denial (Pittsburgh?), Anger (Pittsburgh!), Bargaining (Should I really move to Pittsburgh?), Depression (It’s not NYC or San Francisco…), and finally Acceptance.

14.)  Finally, excitement that my new job sounds awesome and the cost of living in Pittsburgh is about a 1/2 of anywhere else I’ve ever lived.

15.) Three freelance projects.

16.)  One house-sitting gig for two psycho dogs, one of which looks like and is almost as big as a polar bear.

17.)  One vegan wedding.

18.) Gaining about five pounds (okay, maybe six…).

So you can see why it’s been a month since I’ve posted anything.  But alas, it is Premiere Week, and The Biggest Loser is starting. So I should probably go so that I can get inspired for my sexy new life in Pittsburgh.

Hear me on APM’s Marketplace Today!

I recently taped a segment for Marketplace on my ghastly (and continuing) journey to try and find a job.  It will be airing today!

Check your local NPR station to find out when it’s airing in your area!

Let this be a lesson…

The folks over at Jezebel caught wind of this cringe-worthy video yesterday.  There are so many things wrong with it, I’m not sure where even to begin. I suppose it’s events like this that make the experts say communication is the most important aspect of a relationship…

Rediscovering My Former Geeky Self

Last week, while packing up all my belongings in defeat of not finding a job and having to move in temporarily reside with my parents, I discovered all the former versions of myself which I wanted so badly to forget that I shoved them into that section of closet no one dares enter.  It’s funny how moving/packing/cleaning reveals these odd, past versions of ourselves.  What follows is a list of random items discovered:

A Spongebob Square Pants Bouncy Ball (which lights up when dropped)

Chinese Healing Balls

One disc of the fifth season of Party of Five (I’ve never actually watched that show–so no idea where that came from)

A note my best friend wrote to me during driving school, circa 1997–of course written in purple pen…

A wallet-sized portrait of a high school friend wearing her cross country uniform

An angel halo from a recent Halloween costume

Letter my friend wrote to me while I was at Music Camp (during my Broadway phase)–cringe…

A denim headband that looked sort of like these (Was I thinking it’d come back into style? I hope not.)

I know you are probably asking–how could you part with such cherished items?  Quite easily actually (okay, I keep the driving school note).    What’s the strangest thing you’ve ever found while cleaning out your closet?

Condom Shopping for Dummies

This past weekend I attended my friend’s wedding shower.  For the purposes of this story, I will call her the Vegan Princess Bride (because she is a vegan–having a vegan wedding in fact–and unusually obsessed with Disney Princesses).  The theme of Vegan Princess Bride’s wedding shower was “All the Times of Our Lives.”  The invitation stated that our duties as guests were to fill the newlyweds’ home with presents that represented every hour of the day.  Hence, every guest was assigned a time of day (e.g. 7 A.M., midnight) and your gift was supposed to correspond with the time assigned (e.g. breakfast ware, lingerie, etc.).

My assigned hour?  3 P.M.  What the hell can you buy a person that represents 3 P.M.?  An after-school special?

Yes! You can buy them an after-school special!  Well, sort of…

I decided to theme Vegan Princess Bride’s present after all those wonderful lessons I learned so diligently after school.  So here is a summary of Vegan Princess Bride’s gift:

1.) A subscription to Netflix so the happy couple could catch up on all the afterschool specials they might need for themselves (or future kids, wink, wink)

2.) A plethora of magazines which included a Northern Virginia guide to high schools, Natural Cat (a special edition of Cat Fancy), and a DIY magazine.

3.) Chocolate for lesson #1: Girlfriend, You are beautiful! To represent all those lack of self-confidence/eating disorder movies.

4.) Alcohol for lesson #2: You can’t drink away your problems! For this, I included by nips of tequila, rum, vodka, and whiskey.

5.) Of course, no afterschool special gift would be complete without the enormously important lesson #3: Use protection!, which of course condoms must represent.

I was in a rush to buy condoms while at Safeway.  Not So Sexy Boyfriend had already gone through the line and was waiting impatiently in the humidity while the  candy aisle distracted me.  So I headed for the cashier straight ahead of me without looking to see whom the cashier was.  But it shouldn’t matter right?  I shouldn’t have anything to be embarrassed about.    I’m 25—in fact, many people would say I was a responsible 25 year-old (even though others might call me something else…).

But alas, who was there to wait on me?  A 14 year-old boy.  And he was indeed the youngest 14 year-old boy I’d ever seen.  (Some of you are probably saying, why would a 14 year-old boy be working? I do believe in Virginia, with a permit, 14 year-olds can indeed work certain jobs—including as cashiers at Safeway).

Despite my red face, I bought my Thintensity condoms, doing my best all the while to not make eye contact with the young man I was exposing to the world’s evils.  As I was swiping my card, he asked me my last name, which in my haze of embarrassment, I thought was for checkout purposes.  However, after I exited the store, I realized it was not needed for anything, and that this kid was probably going to start stalking me on Facebook.

Eventually my face cooled, and this past Sunday afternoon after consuming numerous vegan cucumber sandwiches, my after school-themed gift heralded a few laughs.

So all this taught me an important after school special lesson of my own—Remember kids, when buying those condoms, always check out your checkout person.

Sexy Shout Out!

I just wanted to thank DCBlogs for the shout out today.  I’m glad so many others can commiserate with my oh so many reasons to hate myself.