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Thursday, October 23, 2014

Blogging/Acting/Living like a Big Girl

That is to say, not blogging like a fat girl. Not that I'm fat. Not that it matters, really. I'm more bone than fat, I think. Or maybe I'm more organ tissue? I have fat on me. But I don't know how a 'fat' girl is supposed to blog or act. I just act the way I act. I know that I could come up with a few rhymes or reasons for a few of my actions and habits, but I've really heard a lot of "like a fat girl" or "inner fat kid" or whatever on the interblag lately when coming across food articles. Well, not lately. Always.

What's up with the whole "like a girl" thing, by the way? It's a little insulting.
"Bitch, please..."

But that's neither here nor there. I really don't want to get into all of that. Most of my friends know that I feel the way I feel, and if you read my stuff you probably are of the opinion that women are people. At least, I hope you are. Because we are. Women, I mean.

But "Blogging like a Big Girl." I'm big in the sense that I'm tall. I border on 5'8", and can kiss B. without craning my neck if I wear the right shoes(he's 6'2"), specifically the pretty pink wedges I bought circa 2012 from H&M. But does big have to mean big? Why can't it just mean grown up? I'm a big girl, now. I'm a grown-up now. And in my 26 years on this rock, I've figured out some stuff.

Being an adult is what you want it to mean. Being an adult in America means being over 18(or 21, if you prefer). Aside from that, it's up to you. Society tacks on a few other things, like paying your bills or buying your own car or whatever. Which I do. I pay my bills and I have a car. It's hard to balance budgets on your own, I will admit, but the point is that it's doable.

I recently started working with a group called Young Women on the Move. The girls I met with were shy. They were shy and afraid. When I was telling stories about my life and career, they kept on smiling and nervously asking "But weren't you scared?"

"Yes," I said. And then I shrugged it off and kept on talking.

"But weren't you scared?" must have come up at least fourteen times during my two-hour period of time there. Of course I was scared. It's okay to be scared. But whatever. No big deal. So what if you get scared? Was I scared to ask for a raise when I needed it? Yes. Was I scared when I went an applied for a job I wasn't really qualified for? Yes. Was I scared to start socializing in the ACF, fearful of the thought that people would reject me? Yes. But the worst thing they could have said was "no." Well, not the worst thing...

Sometimes, to ease the tension, I like to imagine the worst possible thing happening. I mean, off-the-charts, weird, fukken worst. I went in for a job interview once and was very nervous about it. What if they don't like me? What if the restaurant is horrible? What if the Chef is horrible? What if the FOH manager is a creep that wears gold rings and leaves his shirt hanging open all the time? What if the kitchen is infested with mold? What if I trip on the way in and break my neck? What if, on my way in, a pipe bursts in the bathroom walls and floods the entire restaurant? There could be an ex-boyfriend in there. There could be no gravity in there--and I would walk in and slam up on the ceiling, and then gravity would turn back on again, and slam me back into the floor, breaking my face. There could be racist ninjas in there. There could be Vladimir Putin in there. Zombie Fred Phelps could be in there. ALL OF THE HORRIBLE THINGS could be in there.

But probably not. You know what the actual worst thing that could happen would be? I didn't get the job. Could I live with that? Probably.

Fear is darkness. Find the light within.

So I'm blogging every day. I don't know what I'll blog about, always, but I figure that I can have a few filler blogs here and there. It's a regimen. It's good to have short term goals. Also, that Lemon Cherry Yogurt Cake from yesterday is still moist as the day is long, and I didn't even cover it with plastic. It was just sitting on the counter, still being delicious.

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