Lions and Tigers and Thighs, Oh My

Ever since I got back from Hawaii, my legs and I have seen the light. These burritos ‘o mine are now wearing running shorts. It’s somewhat liberating to make visible something I had intentionally kept invisible in the past. To let myself be seen. As is.

When I had it – at least I thought I had it at some point – I should have flaunted it. I took my young, firm skin for granted. But I was much more shy back then. Now? Yes, I’m still an introvert at heart, but I don’t look too bad for my age, so part of me wants to flaunt whatever it is I have left while gravity is still my friend. I have ab muscles. I don’t know where they came from, and they might look a little like a wrinkly four-pack of King’s Hawaiian rolls during the rising process, but they’re there. I believe that they’re a product of my intense overthinking. After all, something good should come of overworking my brain in circles. Problem is, I might look good for 48 – we Asians hold together well – but not so good for 38. Get my drift?

[I can’t believe I just outed my real age. Oh, what the hell. I will display my age proudly. I just won’t display photos of it here on my blog. I may be crazy, but I’m not insane. Yet.]

See, I live in a small, coastal town. It doesn’t get warm enough to wear shorts very often, so people don’t see a lot of skin around here. Hawaii? No problem. Young skin, aging skin – what does it matter? Everyone looks like bronzed demi-gods over there. But here? People pull on their t-shirts, light wash jeans, sneakers, and their Patagonia jackets to go out on the town. They might even wear that outfit to the beach.

The sun is out and it is unusually warm. I am tempted to go for a run wearing less clothing than I ever have before. I want to feel free to do this. If I didn’t have to wear my glasses, I would absolutely wear sunglasses. That way, I could feel anonymous. I might mistake a fire hydrant for a dog, but if it makes me more brave, I will trade clear vision for shades. I’m sure I’ll be able to determine whether or not that object coming towards me is a car, right? Maybe I need a sacrificial running buddy.

Suddenly, I’m not so concerned about my thighs anymore.

Home

My parents' house

My parents’ house

Los Angeles was my home for over ten years.

Now my home is where I spent the first 21 years of my life.

The differences between the two cities are immense.  The city of Los Angeles has well over 3.8 million people living within its domain.  The county I’m living in now has about 450,000.  The town I’m in?  About 15,000.

But this isn’t a lesson on demographics, it’s a lesson on how to adjust, and I don’t have the answers yet.  Instead, all I have are questions:  How come there aren’t any store employees checking my receipt as I exit Home Depot?  Why are cars stopping to let me walk across the street?  Where will I get my milk tea fix?  Will I lose my edge, my street smarts?

Okay, I have to confess, I never really did have street smarts.  Maybe I’ve always been small town all along.

 

 

Thoughts on Turkey Day

Los Angeles vs.:

That’s my finger in the left hand corner, not a demon presence. Thanks for worrying about me.

There’s really no contest.  At least, not for me.

Blue (thankfully) sunny skies, the smell of an unpolluted ocean, and clean, fresh air.  I stopped during my run this morning to take the photo above.  I’ll be moving here in about four weeks, and the visual landscape – a deer was trotting down the road as I made my way downtown – reminded me that I made the right decision.

However, my social circle will be shrinking down to almost nothing, so I’ll have to make some kind of attempt at meeting people so that I don’t become a social misfit.  Well, okay…so that I don’t increase my misfitness.  Or, I could go back to grunting as a means of communication.  Maybe I’ll meet a nice caveboy and live an uncomplicated life with him, not with words, but with a lot of colorful gestures.

My plan is for this move to be my in-between place, to take stock and plan my next step.  Think good thoughts for my sanity, as I will be *gulp* temporarily moving back in with my parents.

But, one thing at a time.

I still have to break up with work next week, which, once done, will make my leaving that much more real.