Entry 11 : You’re so Pretty

Last weekend, Husband and I went to this sports bar to watch some football, during which I got called ‘pretty’ a number of times by random hot girls.

Correction:  random hot drunk girls.

You can imagine that it made me feel good about myself. I mean, who doesn’t enjoy a compliment every so once in a while?  I feel like when a person that you think is hot, tells you that you’re pretty -it means something.  Of course, really, it’s meaningful when anyone says it, but when a gorgeous hot girl says it, the sheer fact that the compliment came from a hot chick (even if they are drunk) gives an extra credential that legitimizes the claim.  It’s like if a really famous chef tastes your spaghetti and meatballs and tells you it’s the most amazing thing he’s ever eaten, even if your sauce came from a bottle.

I feel like the thing with hot girls – and by “hot” I mean the ones with the perfect boobs and butts and whose faces are always prepped 24 hours a day – is they have a constant confidence about them that says, yea i know I’m the shit.  Perhaps it’s an exterior confidence that covers such insecurities as being really bad at math,  or not being able to read words that go beyond two syllables (let alone know what they mean), but it is a confidence that nevertheless puts them above the competition in the dating scene.

Now, I’m not hating the hot girl. Hot girls do, what hots girls do. With me? I don’t know if being called ‘pretty’ was some sort of induction to the hot girls club.  I kind of think it was, at least for the night.

And there wasn’t even any sort of initiation; I was kind of was just sitting there at the bar , watching football when this girl was standing behind me.

Me: Do you need something, I’ll ask the bartender for you.

Hot girl 1: omg. You’re so nice and  you’re so pretty. I love you…. Where do you get your waxing? I’m just saying, I work at a waxing place and I’m from Sol-Cal, so I know what’s up. Seriously, I’m from So-Cal so I know. 

Hot girl 2: And I’m the receptionist, and we will totally hook you up. Seriously…

Hot girl 1: Seriously… hold my purse.

At which point, hot girl 1 handed me her purse, and in an attempt to give me her business card, emptied out monies, 5 mac lipsticks, 2 glosses, gum, pills, and some other randoms. This process took about 10 minutes of my life as I kept putting stuff back in her purse so she wouldn’t lose any of her stuff, and she kept taking her things out.

I would say, I was part of their “hot girl crew” for a good part of the night. How we got separated I don’t know, but truth be told, I don’t know how long I would’ve lasted as my dorkiness would inevitably have come out. Like, there was a moment earlier that morning when I was contemplating should I bring my coloring book? or my ipad so I can reread Anne of Green Gables during the game? I ended up not bringing either as I was a bit rushed to leave and couldn’t decide, but I don’t know if they would’ve talked to me if I brought either.

Which is totally okay.  I’ve come to terms to embrace the inner nerd in me, which is much different than how I felt 10 years ago

10 years ago – and this is a true story – I went out with a friend to this bar and  this guy was hitting on my friend and she was like… I’m in college, what do you think my major is? blah blah blah.. and then she was like.. What do you my friend’s major is?

Back then I wore thick emo glasses that said I read the complete series of Lord of the Rings over winter break…twice.  Which I read the book once, but still. My exterior self represented me as such.

Librarian, he responded.

I kind of laughed it off, but at the time, in my heart of hearts, I was a little sad that he didn’t think I was cute. I mean, yea – it was true, I probably looked like a librarian, but still.

But that’s was 10 years ago and while accepting myself sooner would have saved me  years of feeling insecure, I have completely come to embrace who I am as a person:   I like coloring, and reading, and I hoard random ass things like nail polish and all colors of pens, and I sing and dance when I’m by myself, and I work out to Nsync, and I bought all the Harry Potter books in hardback with the intention that my kids will inherit them. It was a decision I made when I was in high school which 15 years later, I still believe is rightly justified.

So, Thank you hot girl for thinking I’m pretty, because I think I’m pretty…. Pretty fucking awesome.


Entry 10: The Gym

I’m starting to get buff.

At first I thought it was a result of the light hitting different angles of my arms and the shadows creating the illusion that I’m building some sort of muscle, but no – there is some definite tone-age going on.

Although, you’ll just have to take my word for it.

And my husband’s word, because when the Hulk says something along the lines of “yea, looking good!” you know it’s the truth.

Why not take a picture as proof? Well, because I’m not going to take one of those selfies of myself in the mirror flexing or sticking my butt and my chest out while doing the duck face because that would be weird. I’m not going to lie, I’ve done the ‘duck face’ selfie before and while some people can make it work, I feel weird doing it. I think it’s because the whole look is supposed to be something of a seductive look, and I’m just awkward when it comes to being that kind of sexy. I can give you sexy humor and wit all day, but no duck face.

While I am seeing results of this muscle definition, I don’t want my end result to be that of an overly buff chick who can imitate with their broad shoulders and bulging quads. There are a few girls who work out at my new gym that are super buff and who I am both scared and in awe of at the same time; scared because I know they could probably beat me up, and in awe because their physique is like that of a totally different being who would probably survive the zombie apocalypse before me and everyone else. (My zombie apocalypse strategy as of now, is to find my husband because he would know what to do)

But I can’t hate on the buff chicks for achieving their goals. Work out goals are – I think- one of the hardest goals to achieve, especially when you like to eat and snack, like myself.  I have, however, become more aware of food and  am currently taking a food nutrition class that is helping me learn that eating healthy doesn’t mean you necessarily have to deprive yourself and that occasional splurge meal is totally okay.

Speaking of splurge meals, Husband and I recently discovered Five Guys, and O-my-God… where have you been all my life? Not only do their burgers melt in your mouth, they have peanuts that you can self-serve while you wait for your meal. Peanuts! The Roberts are also on this peanut kick so we found this thoroughly exciting.

Anyways, I’ll end with one last gym tangent.  I can’t help but notice that it’s a thing for the skinny / and or fit hot girls to put their cell phones in their sports bra, their cleavage acting as a sort of pocket holding their mobile device while they work out. I started noticing this after I got myself a $15 workout bag and at first I was like damn, is this what all the cool girls are doing? I found out too late! But then started thinking, meeh… boobs against cell phone while sweating, doesn’t seem like a good idea. So to this day, I continue to rock my $15 adidas workout bag, even though a small part of me wonders if I could ever be that cool to stick my cell phone in my sports bra. I mean, I guess I  could just do it, but in my heart of hearts I know I would feel ridiculous because in reality I think it’s stupid. Just as ridiculous as doing the duck -face selfie.