Whoa, it's my blog!

A recent post on Thought Catalog caught my eye. The author was unapologetic about his habits, thoughts, and lifestyle. It was bold and borderline insane. Several of my co-workers created their own lists (you can read their brutally honest lists here: Mallorie, Shari, and Alex). I’ve decided to join them and list my idiosyncrasies. Before you run for the hills, just hear me out…

1. I’m always right. This is my worst quality. I will never admit defeat/being wrong. I’m too proud. If I do, I really love you and our relationship.

2. I make weird noises in my sleep. Not quite talking, more like mumbles and strange high pitched sounds. Only happens if I’m falling asleep and trying to fight it. Don’t make fun of me. I will hate you.

3. I’m driven. Establishing my career is the most important thing at this point in my life. Don’t take it personal if I move halfway around the world for a job. It will always be first (right now).

4. My mother and my grandparents are THE most important people in my life. If they don’t like you, I don’t like you.

5. If I love you, I will speak in a “baby voice” and give you a stupid pet name. I will expect you to do the same.

6. I’m a sore loser. If I know I can’t beat you, I won’t play. Hence why I don’t participate in sports, video games, or chess. N’Sync lyrics contest? Come at me bro.

7. I’m competitive. I need to be the best.

8. I can’t stand it when someone doesn’t like me. As childish as it sounds, it will slowly kill me.

9. If you don’t like dogs don’t talk to me. I feel that there is no love or loyalty like the one of a dog. I’m also a huge animal person. I cry over the mistreatment of animals. Don’t make me feel bad about it or make me out to be crazy.

10. I’m not a vegetarian. Just because I love animals doesn’t mean I’m against eating them for nutritional purposes. I will, however, refuse to eat veal.

11. I expect you to be driven. No ambition, no goals, no Melissa.

12. I’m very self conscious about my weight. I will never be comfortable naked in front of you. There’s nothing you can do about this. Just love me through it.

13. I hate people that can’t spell or speak proper English. But “totes”, “obvi”, and “fo sho” are a part of my vocabulary.

14. I don’t drink. Not by choice, I had brain surgery 4 years ago and my medications and doctors won’t allow it. I will eventually be able to drink again. Don’t feel bad for me. I encourage everyone to drink for me.

15. My best friend is gay. He is my soulmate. You will never measure up to him and I wouldn’t want you to. If you feel threatened by this you need to man up.

16. I believe in gay rights, gay marriage, gay adoption, and equality. If you’re homophobic you need to stop reading this post and get away from me.

17. I wish I was more girly. I love heels, dresses, and jewelry but I’d rather wear sweats and no makeup. I hate to be dressed up.

18. I will always want you to rub my feet while we are watching tv or relaxing at home. Just do it. It makes me happy.

19. I’m fiercely independent. I will never need you for anything. And this lie is my self preservation. I will never tell you how much I need you. Ever.

20. When I’m mad beyond comprehension I will cry. It’s my body’s natural response to emotional overload. This crying will be followed by yelling.

21. I don’t date. I’m either in a relationship or not. The thought of “seeing” multiple people makes me exhausted.

22. I’m catholic. No, I don’t want you to go to church with me. No, I will not force you to believe in Jesus. I will respect your beliefs. Please do the same. Unless you’re a scientologist, then all bets are off.

23. I’m really indecisive. I hate the “where do you wanna go eat?” game. I never know what I want to eat. Just pick. It will make our lives easier (as long as it’s not barbecue).

24. I am NOT a morning person. If you are, your chipper demeanor at 7am will piss me off. Talking is off limits before coffee.

25. I don’t like being chased. Like physically chased. It scares the shit out of me. I’ve never played tag as a kid because I would throw myself on the floor and beg to be tagged. I will chase you though.

See, that wasn’t so bad…

1. Walk….FAST!
   Yes, when coming to New York I knew walking (a lot of it) would be involved. I wasn’t aware of the “high-speed” walking necessary to survive on the sidewalk. I’m calling it the “NY pace” and it pretty much puts speed walking to shame. My city friends and coworkers have it down to a science: quick, long strides, swift, and stealth as they maneuver through crowds, old people, tourists, and cabs. Point A to Point B becomes one fluid movement as I struggle to keep the pace. My Point A to Point B looks like a sweaty, clumsy, crawl compared to the average New Yorker.
2. Always Carry Cash
   Sounds simple right? Well for this Floridian, carrying cash has never been a necessity. Every place in FL takes credit. I’ve charged a pack of gum before. Yup, a whopping $1.07 on plastic. Instead of going to the ATM, I torture myself staring at the delicious meals from carts, that underground cafe, and the hole in the wall down the street. I’m left with commercial/chain places, eateries with $10 card minimums, or “Cash Only” places in the village. I don’t know how to cook so…new diet plan?
3. New Yorkers are Friendly
   No this is not a typo. Nor am I seeing the city through rose-colored glasses. When walking down the streets, New Yorkers are on a mission: get to my destination, quickly. In order to do so, they gallop like race horses with blinders; avoiding eye contact and hurdling over non-New Yorkers. Do NOT take this as being cold, rude, or mean. On several occasions I have asked for directions, which subway I should take, and where’s the nearest “fill in the blank here”. Every time, New Yorkers always stop, provide the information correctly, and send me on my way with a smile. Try it. I swear they don’t bite.
4. Pets Are Basically Humans
   Scenario: Shopping in H&M, spending too much money, and something catches my eye…a squishy-faced Frenchie!  A DOG in a clothing store. Not a Chihuahua, or a tiny yorkie, a BULLDOG. Not only did I squeal with delight (I own a Frenchie myself), but it proved that Pets are encouraged to be a part of your daily city adventures. I saw a pug on the 6 train doing the subway stance and keep his balance like a champ. Dogs run this city and they are fierce. You Go Glen Coco!

We’ve all heard that one right? A common saying for some, a reality for me.

I was “that girl” with the 5-year plan. You know the type: an eager, smart, nice, overachiever with a ruthless (sometimes psychotic) drive. I had it all planned out. I would work, climb the ladder, become a manager, get engaged, and be married.

Fast forward 4 years and I’m not a manager, I’m not engaged, and I’m barely toe-deep into my career. Why? Brain surgery. June 20, 2008 changed everything along with three simple partial seizures, two ambulance rides, CT scan, MRI, and a private suite in the Neuro ICU.

No it wasn’t cancer, and no I’m not epileptic. It was neurocysticercosis. A tapeworm which mistakenly thought it could hang out in my brain without even asking. Total a-hole right? Well thanks to a team of 10 doctors I was saved, spent 13 days in ICU, had my head shaved, and given a permanent IV line.

How could this happen to me? I had plans. THIS was NOT the plan. I couldn’t celebrate my 21st birthday with all the shots my friends could buy, I couldn’t drive, couldn’t ride roller coasters, couldn’t climb the stairs without getting exhausted, and couldn’t work. My life was suddenly filled with “I can’t” and I felt robbed. I felt like my life was over. That’s because it was, at least my old life.

It took four years. Four years without a beer, four years of three pills a day, four years of anxiety, four years of asking why. It took four years to be grateful. Thank you tapeworm, thank you doctors, thank you family and friends. Why? Because I realized that my life wasn’t over. It was just beginning. Brain surgery made me better than before. I lived. Lived through something that could have caused irreparable damage. Lived through the tears, the fear, and the weird haircut.

I realized that I’m stronger, smarter, and braver than before. So maybe I’m not a manager or wearing a rock on my left hand but I can work. I can drive, I can learn, I can have fun, and I can live. I am a survivor and it’s not brain surgery. It’s just me.

Plus. Husky. Curvy. Just For Me. Insert any other adjective to describe “plus size” clothing here. Some department stores differentiate sizes by naming “regular sizes” Ladies and “plus sizes” Women. Let’s face it, as a woman in any age, weight loss or gain is a part of our lives. We are judged by every inch and bulge. It’s in our DNA to obsess over numbers; on the scale, on our labels, in our caloric intake. I’m a firm believer that everyone is meant to look different. The last thing I want is to live in a society that’s constantly judging me, oh wait, I already do.

You’re probably wondering where this is going. Let’s kick it old school for a little. As a middle school-er, shopping at 5-7-9 was the COOLEST thing EVER. If you were a tween/teen chances are your closet was a miniature replica of their store. Everyone shopped there, except me. Don’t get me wrong, I was by no means on the verge of obesity. I was just larger than other girls. I had to shop in regular women’s sizes because the clothes fit me better. Now this blog isn’t about how awful it is being an overweight kid because let’s be honest, we’ve heard it all before. My point is this: why does every store have to rope off their “plus sizes” into a designated section? It’s almost as if people think “being overweight” is something you can catch. Quick! Hide the fat people in the back! I don’t see a designated “model” section where all women look like skinny giraffes desperate for a hamburger.

I’ve always struggled with my weight and I am currently on the higher end of sizes. The thought of buying new clothes to fit my huge ass was depressing but I couldn’t pretend that I could wear my size 12 jeans anymore. As I started to shop around for new clothes, I realized my new size fell under the “plus size” bracket (note: I fit into XL). I couldn’t shop in the “normal” section with all my friends, I had to go to another floor and shop alone. Why do retailers have to section off these clothes? At Forever 21 their “plus sizes” are located in a specific side of the store. Every time I shop there I quickly make my way to the back and hope no one sees me. I feel ashamed. I can’t help but notice the other women in the same section feel the same too. Most stores don’t even carry anything over size 12. Now I have to make my way to stores for full-figured women.

Feeling ashamed is exactly my issue with this. Why should I feel ashamed about my body? Just because I’m going through a rough patch with my weight doesn’t make me any less of a person or any less beautiful for that matter. Why can’t I shop where everyone else shops? And furthermore, why do all of my labels now have a + symbol on them? I am well aware of my size, I don’t need to be reminded every time I put on my clothes thankyouverymuch. My point is this: don’t ostracize people more then they already are. Society already tells us that overweight people are lazy, aren’t concerned about their health, and only think about eating. It’s hard enough being a big girl. Making “special” sections, labels, and terms for my clothes is another jab to my self-esteem.

Why don’t stores spend less time corralling us big girls and more time worrying about the girls that need to eat? You heard me, I’m talking to you giraffes.