The External

I am who I am. I don't know when I stopped making apologies for it, but I have. I have friends and family who love me. And if someone doesn't like, doesn't understand, or doesn't care for me, that's their situation.

That's not to say that I don't process it, I do. I find the way people respond to me interesting, maybe even fascinating. Both the good and the bad. I think this is largely due to the fact that I don't think I see myself the same way other people see me.

Years ago in high school, I'd irritated a friend of mine. I don't know what I'd done to upset him, nor do I have any idea the exact context of the conversation anymore, but at some point he said something to the effect of, "You're very magnetic and people are drawn to you whether they want to be or not."

Fast forward several years. Seated in a car late one night in a Wal-Mart parking lot with a very close friend, I grilled him about why he hadn't let me into his life. He looked at me, dumbfounded at my accusation. I'd heard from a mutual friend that he suffered terrible depressive episodes. I'd always thought we were close, but how close could we possibly be if he didn't share them with me? When I pushed him on this, he responded,"Don't you get it, Lyndsy? I don't feel that way when I'm with you. You're my high."

Not too long after that, I got into an argument with a guy who was a friend of mine. We were sort of close at the time, but hadn't known each other for long. I'd spent some time working on student government stuff at the University of Florida, but most of my time was dedicated to helping a friend of mine achieve his various goals. My friend scolded me for never doing it for myself, that I should have been the one running for office, leading the student senate. I just laughed and relayed the story to another friend of mine, expecting him to join in. My friend calmly replied (with only a slight bit of exasperation), "He's right."

Move forward another few years. I flew home from Michigan to surprise my grandmother at her 75th birthday party. (Try not to mention I've divulged her age the next time you see her.) She wanted to take her birthday as an opportunity to share her thoughts, feelings, and memories about all of the kids and grandkids present. She wasn't expecting me so she didn't have any remarks prepared. But when she got to me, she said, "And Lyndsy. Well Lyndsy was just magical. Everyone loved Lyndsy."

I've been a terrible student since high school. I put forth the minimal effort to get through a class, and still have met with reasonable academic success. Throughout all of my education, only two professors have called me out for my lack of effort. One flat out told me that he was disappointed in me, had heard remarkable things about me, and that I'd failed to meet his expectations. He *knew* I wasn't touching my potential. Another really just expressed frustration with the fact that I wasn't doing more to exercise my intelligence. Yes, he'd given me As, but he knew the work was far beneath what I was capable of.

The point of this isn't for me to chronicle what an incredible individual I am. That's obvious. All kidding aside, and frankly, in spite of what I've laid out above, I never saw any of those things about myself. I had friends in high school, but didn't feel particularly "magnetic." I had no idea I could impact anyone so much as to make them forget, even for a little while, how upset they were about something.

Someone I met in law school once said I confused him, because for all the ego I displayed, I somehow still had a poor concept of myself. He couldn't understand how I walked around every day, a complete contradiction.

And now I sit here wondering how and why it is that I don't see these things about myself.

In some ways I'm sure it's a great thing I don't. Could you imagine the ego monster I would be if I did? I'm sure we can all think of someone in our lives who does have a grasp on their...powers...and abuses them.

It also makes me wonder how many other people so blatantly ignore some of the best parts of themselves because they don't trust and internalize the good things people say about them. What they might be missing out on in their own lives because of it.

Which makes me wonder what *I* might have been missing out on. I firmly believe that if you have a gift, you have a responsibility to exercise it for the betterment of the friends, family, society at large. If what others have said about me for over 10 years now is really true, I've squandered something very valuable.

I've always felt very isolated from the people around me. Trapped in a world where no one understood me. Slogging through days and years, searching desperately to find some kind of connection to someone else. In writing about this though, I'm coming to believe that it wasn't other people who didn't understand me, but rather me who didn't understand myself. I am who I am, but who am I?

The Ultimate Threat

I'm a big advocate for the idea that you can learn lessons in life from just about anything that happens. But sometimes the lessons come at you, and you have to change your perspective to be able to see the benefit of something that's gone "wrong."

As you all know, I've had a battle going on with my weight for years. A struggle with weight presents a few different issues:

1. Health - I have a severely herniated disc at the L4-5 level, and a bulging disc at the L5-S1. I'm sure my body would appreciate carrying around less weight. Not to mention things like diabetes, high blood pressure, etc.

2. Self-image - How big you are doesn't really affect your attractiveness to someone else. It's really about personality. If it was all about size, only thin people would ever find love, and we all know that isn't the truth. Knowing that intellectually just doesn't change how it makes you feel. You wake up, get ready for the day, see yourself in the mirror and just think, "Ugh."

3. External image - It's unfair but inescapable, a lot of people think heavier people are lazy, unathletic, unattractive, sloppy, etc. Some of the time it's true. But not always. I played flag football, and not too poorly, at my heaviest weight. I was out hiking with friends. People have found me attractive at a variety of weights.

For a long time, my poor self-image has kept me from really being happy. But recently I've had some experiences that have made me realize I'm a lot more comfortable with my body than I think I've ever been. I've finally made it to the point where I have a good self-image. I wear tank tops, and not infrequently. That's right, my flabby arms are out, doing their double-wave, getting some sun. And I don't care what anyone else thinks.

I won't mention the other experiences in detail (this blog only has a Mature rating), but some involved dating that just didn't work out. And any time a potential relationship doesn't work out, it's a bit of let-down, whether there was real potential there or not. However, I was strutting my stuff proudly and loving it. Even with Pudge along for the ride. (He'd say hi to you all, but I'm punishing him for existing.) So yeah, it didn't work, but I got the chance to see how much I've grown in terms of my self-image.

The irony of it all is that as soon as I had this realization, I made the decision to make a more concerted effort to lose weight. (Yes, that is how my process works. I decide to take an action before (and sometimes instead of) actually taking the action.)

As noted above, my health is a paramount concern. If I can't get my back to get itself in order on its own (with chiropractor visits, drugs, and rest), I'm looking at having more surgery. It wasn't particularly fun the first time around, and I'm willing to do just about anything to avoid it again.

The other reason is more in line with my ego. I want to be the ultimate threat: Smart, sexy, funny, unbelievably generous and caring, AND OBJECTIVELY HOT. It'll make me damn near perfect. And as tough a title to hold as Ms. Perfect would be, I'm sure if anyone can do it, it's me. I am ready to claim my crown.

...and the horse you rode in on!

For those of you who know me in person or have followed this blog for any length of time, you know that I'm no stranger to George Carlin's 7 words you can't say on television. I guess, if we're going to be all "accurate" about it, I'd have to say that the 7 words and I are more like regular bedfellows.

For me, it all began at a young age. When I was two, my parents asked me if I wanted KFC, and I apparently replied, "Yeah, f*cking chicken!" My mom was horrified and wondered what kind of people she was leaving me with during the day. (Best part is that I probably learned it from her. "F*ck you and the horse you rode in on!" is one of her favorite expressions. Pretty sure she was dropping the F bomb at other times.)

Apparently cussing like a sailor means I can't be considered a lady. (And piss off to anyone who's laughing because they think there are LOTS of other reasons we wouldn't call me a lady. It is not unladylike to sit with my legs open while wearing a skirt and to belch with the force of a galloping herd.) I just don't see what the big damn deal is. They're words! Just words! We assign their value. If I wanted to, I could probably turn "sweetpea" into a bad word.

And let's face it, there are times where the F word is the only thing that provides adequate release. Like this morning, when some stupid chick who was paying absolutely no attention to the road tried to change lanes INTO MY CAR. I looked over at her as I was swerving away and the only response to her open-mouthed, idiotic stare was to say, "WHAT THE F*CK ARE YOU DOING???" Somehow I don't think, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" has quite the same effect or ring.

Or, like on Saturday, when the bottle of Vitamin Water rolled out of the shopping cart and onto my foot. "Well oh dear, that hurt a bit!" isn't the same as "Bitch shitf*cker asshat that hurt!"

So really, why do we care? What's the deal? I mean, yeah, it's a bit horrifying when kids flip you the bird or tell you screw yourself. But that's only because parents spend 13 years telling their kids not to do it and it sort of works. At least until middle school when kids learn more innovative phrases than their parents will ever know.

Perhaps we should focus instead on teaching time and place for all the fun words? Maybe if his parents had done that, Dick Cheney wouldn't have told Senator Leahy to go f*ck himself while in a public forum...

Ladies, you disappoint me

I have a friend for whom I have quite a bit of respect. I met him in law school and I find him quite intelligent, definitely attractive, and totally hilarious.

Those are all very nice things, but what I respect him for more is his brutal honesty. He's an asshole with women, unashamedly so. And I respect it, because what he does works for him, and really quite well. The fault lies with the women who let it happen.

I hear that you're not supposed to blame the victim of something, but anyone using even the smallest bit of sense would see just how absolutely full of shit he is and call him on it. Instead, women flock to him as though he is the second coming. Why shouldn't he eat it up?

Lest you think I am being overly dramatic, allow me to provide you with a few examples.

Example 1: The goldfish
My friend had a conversation with a woman in a bar that went like this:

Woman: I have something I have to tell you...
Him: What? Are you a man?
Woman: No...I'm...married.
Him: I have a goldfish.
Woman: (confused look) What does that have to do with anything?
Him: I'm sorry, I thought we were talking about shit that doesn't matter.

What happens next? He gets laid.

Example 2: The apple analogy
My friend is out with his buddy and his buddy's girlfriend. His buddy is regaling his girlfriend with stories of my friend's assholic debauchery. Girlfriend pipes up and tells my friend that it may be a hard climb to get to the top of the tree, but that the perfect apple that's up there is totally worth it. My friend thinks for a moment and responds: I certainly understand your sweet little analogy. However, I look at it a bit differently. Those apples on the lower branches and on the ground? The ones I don't have to bend over backwards working for? Well, anywhere between 1-50% of those apples are just as good and perfect as the one at the top. So, if I eat all of the perfect part of those apples, then discard them, and pick up another apple to eat until the bad part is gone, to the point where I am just as full and pleased as if I ate the perfect apple, but without all that work, what is the difference?

His buddy about loses his shit laughing uncontrollably while girlfriend stares open-mouthed, speaking only to tell him he's the devil.

What happens next? Girlfriend tries to hook my friend up with one of her friends.

Example 3: The big "O"

My friend is at a bar with his buddies and after a short time, they are surrounded by attractive ladies. As my friend is wont to do, he turns the conversation to sex. One of the girls, likely the ugly one (there's always one), goes off about how men can't tell when a woman is faking it. My friend, unable to control himself, just bursts out laughing. The girl, not understanding my friend at all, asks if he's laughing because he thinks he can tell when a woman is faking and believes that all the women he's been with have TRULY orgasmed. Wiping the tears from his eyes, my friend says, "Not at all, sweetheart. I think it's hilarious that you think I care."

What happens next? Friend of ugly girl finds this hilarious and hooks up with my friend. Is probably left unsatisfied, but what did she expect?

I wish that he were the only guy I've met like this, but I went to college with a guy who worked his way into a girl's pants by coloring with her and watching Disney movies. REALLY? A COLLEGE-age man, coloring and singing with Ariel?

So seriously ladies, let's get it together. If we'd raise the bar just a little bit, these assholes would have to step it up. Men play to the level of their competition. Let's give them a run for their money.

Oh, and by the way, I'm an asshole

Idle hands ARE the devil's workshop. Whoever said that must have been talking about boredom and online dating sites. When I have nothing else to do, I fall back into my old habit of shopping for Mr. Lyndsy.

What's astounding is just how amazing, caring, laid-back, and funny everyone on these sites is! Apparently, snowboarding, fishing, and hiking are THE hobbies of Pacific Northwest men. They're all incredibly active and living a semi-healthy lifestyle full of granola.

Not only that, but they are going to be there for you. Supportive to a fault. All while maintaining an impeccable work/life balance. Work hard so they can play hard.

Someone kill me now. They're all damn BOTS I tell you! BOTS!

Perhaps this is what I get for moving out to the granola capital of the world. A bunch of hippies who are all into natural living and eating right all the time. Right, because Starbucks pays its baristas enough to buy that crap.

Not to mention the fact that the weather here is usually too shittastic to engage in the majority of the listed hobbies. We have approximately 4.27 days of decent weather here, but you can bet your ass they're overrunning the waters and mountains to get their sporty fix. OR, they're spending those days THINKING about being outside and active.

What I'm really looking for is a profile that says, "And you know, sometimes I'm an asshole." Someone who is a REAL person. I get that this is our opportunity to put our best foot forward, but if we're all putting forth these ridiculous idealized versions of ourselves, we're all going to wind up sorely disappointed. I try to go into these things with lowered expectations and somehow I am STILL let down. (Anyone remember Mr. Boogers???)

I'm thinking about changing my eye-catching tagline-thing to: Looking for someone who isn't a nature-obsessed granola bot. Think it'll work?

In case you were wondering...

I'm still doing really well. I had an interesting conversation with someone recently about how my life appears to be a roller coaster, with lots of highs and lows. The concern is that I'm racing toward another low.

I'm happy to report that it's been over a month or so and I'm still feeling good. And not in the sense that my life has taken some crazy turn and I'm about to be launched into oblivion. Nothing major has happened. I have the same job I've had for 10 months, I'm not dating anyone, I haven't lost much weight (if any). I'm just waking up each day believing that it's going to be a great day. Sure, things go wrong, but I try to see the whole day instead of just the irritating bits.

I think part of it is that I've finally managed to feel a confidence in myself that I haven't had in years, if ever. I'm starting to feel more comfortable in my own skin, stretched out as it may be by the pounds that refuse to leave me. The joy I feel comes from the inside now, instead of being dependent upon someone else.

Quasi-related to all of this, I'm also going to make myself get back into blogging more regularly. I really enjoy it - it's a great outlet for me. What exactly I'm outletting I'm not sure (yea, I realize that isn't a word), but it's fun all the same.

I hope all of you have been well, and I look forward to your continued worship.