Defying Categorization

Sistah From Anothah Mistah

/ jane in training / 9 Comments

Have you ever run into your doppelganger?

When I saw mine, I said out loud, “Is that me?”

I’m sure everyone has experienced someone telling them that they look like someone they know or some actor/actress. And in most cases, you feel like you don’t look like your supposed twin at all. You might even feel a little insulted.

But when I saw mine, I did a double-take. There I was, in Zumba class with some friends, and I saw myself on the other side of the room next to the small stage where the instructor dances.

“I think that’s me!” I said excitedly, nudging one of my friends.

She was Asian, wore rectangular glasses, and had my face. How much more me can you get? Her hair was much shorter than mine, but it looked exactly like mine after it had grown back a few inches.

Biggest difference?

Sistah can dance.

I don’t think my body can move in those directions all at the same time. Or any time. And her personality was much bigger than mine. Turns out that she was one of the assistants, because at one point she got up on stage with the instructor. My friend’s daughter covered her mouth in surprise when she saw her. “She looks just like you, but more gangsta!”

Well said, my little friend, well said.

That was a few weeks ago and I haven’t been back to that particular class. Not because I can’t face my more gangsta twin; the class is crowded and I don’t like it when a lot of bodies and booties are shaking all up in my grill. Do I seem more gangsta now?

I’ll go back though. If anything, I want to go up to sistah and say something like, “MeYou? YouMe? Huh? Wha-?” or something equally as intelligent.

Hopefully, she won’t be insulted.

Wax On, Wax Off

/ jane in training / 4 Comments

Men, you see the title of this post, right? I’m not talking about surfboards or cars or what you are carrying around in your ears. I think you should just move along. There’s nothing of interest for you to read here.

…

Have you left yet?

Why are you still reading this?

Okay, I guess you need a proper scaring off: tampons, ally mcbeal, reverse vasectomies, i love you, menopause, RuPaul (unless you adore him…then you can stay), pms, do i look fat in these pants?, prison on valentine’s day.

Are they gone now?

Wow, some of those things are really frightening. I almost left this post myself.

This is really not that bad. I just felt a little uncomfortable with the idea of men reading about my thoughts on getting waxed. I’ve never done it before. No, not there! I meant my armpits. I suppose I could have just mentioned this in the beginning and the men would have left based on the topic alone, but you know me (or maybe you don’t want to), I’m a little twisted that way.

I’ve been through more painful things, I’m sure. As least, I think I have. But the thought of it makes me cringe. On the other hand, being 5 o’clock shadow-free is an appealing notion.

See, I’m going to be in New Orleans in a few weeks, and I hear it’s incredibly hot and humid in August. In fact, I just checked. The high is 90, the “low” is 79. Anyways, I would like to have hair-free pits so that I can frantically wave down taxis, pound shots of Tequila, hang on monkey bars, wave up to men on their 9th story balconies, and sit back like a lady with my hands folded behind my head. All things I’ve been wanting to do for a long time while wearing a tank top.

I was encouraged to grow the hair out for at least five days. Doing so gives the wax something to hang on to as it rips the hair out of each hair socket.

I feel a little queasy.

I was warned that the first time would hurt a little because the hairs aren’t used to being treated this way. So now my armpit hairs have feelings? What about mine??

Apparently, the next time I have it done, the hairs won’t put up as much of a fight. They start to get conditioned to the harsh treatment and recognize what’s about to happen: “Oh, right…I’m being evicted. No need for violence. I’ll go more willingly this time.” Feelings and logical thinking? I haven’t been giving those hairs enough credit.

And then I was informed that the longer the hair, the less it will hurt.

Ten days of hair, it is.

I’m getting queasy again.

 

A Squishable Man

/ jane in training / 6 Comments

I happened to notice that Joe Manganiello has a very defined, well-formed physique.

I thought having an eight-pack was physically impossible, but according to Google images, it’s not. As much as I appreciate Joe’s physicality, I think hugging him would be like hugging a brick wall. I suppose you have to decide for yourself if the brick burn would be worth it.

That’s why I was doing a Google image search. I wanted to see if he was always made out of bricks.

Yes, sometimes I spend my evenings doing intensive research like this. What of it?

And if I’m such a thorough researcher, where’s the image of him, you ask? Well, I didn’t want to exploit him more than he already has been. The guy is more than his muscles, right…??

Anyways, I discovered that I couldn’t find an everyday, average body on the guy. He wasn’t always so sculpted, but apparently, he has always been…healthy.

I actually prefer a man with a little bit of squish to him.

I’ve talked about the subject of hugging before. Wine Guy was a 9 out of 10. Yes, he disappeared on me, but I still have to give him his props. But he wasn’t a perfect 10. That score goes to a guy I met briefly at a dinner party, years ago. I almost forgot about him. When we hugged goodbye, I discovered that his whole body was made out of memory foam.

Ah…

I have no idea what made him that way. He was deceptively normal looking.

“He was so soft…” I remarked to my then-boyfriend, who strangely enough, had nothing to say in response. Nor did he have anything to say about my hand gestures as I tried to further describe the guy’s squishiness.

The only things Perfect Hug Guy and Wine Guy had in common were their average weight for their height (about 5’7″) and that they probably didn’t work out at all.

Hm.

This may warrant some further intensive research.

——————————————————————–

Postscript: It has come to my attention that I have been spending way too much energy wondering about the location and appearance of my future man/men. The fact is, there is no telling when he/they will show up. A gentle nudging from my friend Mae woke me up. It’s a good thing, too – disappointment was beginning to chip away at me.

So I’m redirecting my energy towards the here and now and giving nonexistent men a rest. I have more pressing issues to deal with anyways, like finding a new job, so from now on, my future posts won’t be about me getting impatient for that guy who is running super late.

I guess he’ll just have to catch up to me.

Must Love Dogs?

/ jane in training / 4 Comments

I love dogs. But sometimes they hate me. Other times, they love me back. Some even want to hump me.

These were not my first waking thoughts this morning. Actually, I was thinking about men. Then for some reason, I starting going over my history with dogs:

The Barker
When I was young, my parents would take me to visit some family friends who had a barky, miniature Schnauzer. Oh, how I hated going to that house. I could hear that dog barking even as we got out of the car. And as soon as we entered the house, The Barker would single me out. I’d sit still as a statue on their sofa and that grandpa-faced dog would come up, look me in the eye and say, That’s right. This is my house…yes, I own this m*#!@#f$*!#$. Thinking about getting all crazy up in it? Oh? Do you think you’d like being dead, little girl?

I swear, that’s the word-for-word translation.

Devil Dog
One sunny day, I went out for a ride on my banana seat bike, wearing my brand new, glossy black, fake fur coat. Every seven year-old had one in the 70’s right? I pedaled out of our cul-de-sac, happy as a girl wearing a fancy fur coat can be. When I returned, Devil Dog appeared out of nowhere.

oh, shit.

I didn’t know that word at that age, but I’m sure I was thinking something close to it as soon as he started chasing after me. I pedaled for my life as he caught up to me and took a bite out of the back of my now not-so-brand-new, black, fake fur coat. Sensing victory, DD stopped his pursuit.

I experienced two things that day: sheer terror and my first heartbreak over fashion.

Schizo
When I first started dating my ex, his family had a toy fox terrier. Cute little dog, but you could never tell if it was in a good mood or if it was about to go loco on you until it was too late. Already see where this story is going?

The dog was secured by a leash in their front yard when I walked up to the house. When she saw me, she started running happily towards me. Awww…how adorable. Behind her, my ex appeared from the front door of the house, and I waved to him. The dog had a much longer lead line than I had anticipated and when she jumped up to greet me, she bit my calf.

Looking back, I think The Barker put out those two hits on me.

George
Last year, when I was still living in L.A., I discovered that my neighbor’s big, black Lab would howl and bark whenever his owner left the house. This would go on for hours in the middle of the night when the owner would leave for a fishing or hunting trip. I decided to go speak to him after he returned from one of these trips.

I explained the situation and the neighbor kindly apologized, unaware that his dog got into such a state during his absence. “Want to meet him?” Mr. Neighbor asked me. Sure, I said. I love dogs when they’re not howling or foaming at the mouth. He led an energetic George out to my driveway and I knew I didn’t want that dog jumping on me. He was huge. I am small.

George took off down the street and Mr. Neighbor ran after him. And then George came galloping back. Towards me.

oh, shit.

Before I could react properly, George jumped me from behind and wrapped his dog legs around me. I fell as I tried to pry him off of me, but his paws snapped back into place like furry bands of steel.

“Push him off!!” Mr. Neighbor shouted as he came running.

No…I want to be humped by your dog in the middle of my driveway. Of course I’m trying to push him off, you idiot!

Mr. Idiot Neighbor finally pulled him off of me. When I stood, I laughed the whole thing off and he had the nerve to suggest we have dinner together.

No, thanks. I don’t want to be humped by you, either.

Nikki the Wonder Dog
Nikki was the sweetest, most well-behaved dog I had ever and still, have ever met. The ex and I dogsat her for a whole summer while her owners were out of the country. She bonded with me. She would sleep on the floor by my side of the bed, follow me around the house, and whenever I came home, whether I was gone for five minutes or five hours, she would greet me with the extreme happiness that only dogs possess. She would never beg for food, and she wouldn’t steal anything off of your dinner plate even if you left it on the floor.

When the summer was over and we drove her back to her own house, we were on our way to meet friends for a road trip to Mexico. Nikki settled herself on top of all the gear we had packed into the little Nissan. Our timing was good – just as we pulled up, our friends arrived home from their long flight from Malaysia. At first confused, Nikki slowly remembered her true owners and then gave them one of her happy dog dances. When the ex and I said our goodbyes and headed to our car, Nikki followed me.

Heartbreak. I think I cried all the way to Mexico.

sigh.

I am now thinking about my next post about men. Since I’m kind of lazy, I might just borrow the opening from this one:

I love men. But sometimes they don’t love me. Other times, they love me back. Some even want to hump me.

It’s kind of scary how interchangeable it is, isn’t it?

And Your Mission is…

/ jane in training / 6 Comments

Every organization has a mission statement.

Why shouldn’t a couple have one, too?

I was emailing a friend the other night, and I told her I thought it would be a good idea for a couple to come up with a mission statement together. And since almost every idea has been done before, I’m sure there are situations where couples do this. If not, can I copyright this? Too late? You’re already stealing it? Damn you…I would come after you with my girl-machete, but I sense you aren’t threatened by me. I know. All bark, little bite.

As a couple, what do you stand for and how will you strive together into the future? This is what I will ask my future partner to send him screaming, running away from me. If he doesn’t run, well, then I know I’ve made the right choice. I know there are vows spoken during a ceremony and/or promises made, but a mission statement can be created together as a couple, as a united front, and be used as an anchor to toss over the side of the boat when the waters get choppy. Realistic? Idealistic? I like to think they are both, but you can decide for yourself.

And speaking of your self: I think it would benefit us as individuals to come up with our own statements – something to refer to and remember when life kicks us in the face or even worse, if we lose faith in ourselves. Who are you and what do you stand for, strive for? What do you say in commitment to your self?

I just felt something pop. This is a lot of thinking for me this early in the morning. I won’t have any brain juice left for work today.

Brain juice. Can I copyright this, too?