Sun in the sky, you know how I feel...

Joined a gym today. I'm pretty excited about it: nice facilities, not far from work or home, personal trainers (if I can afford want them). But I had an interesting experience today and it only reiterated something I've come to understand over the past five months or so: People do not see me how I see myself. Let me (attempt) to explain.

So I go to the gym and tell them I want a membership. Here's a little note to anyone thinking of joining a gym: when you go they're gonna ask you 8 billion questions about why you wanna join (can't you just take my money and be satisfied). The most annoying question: "So what made today the day you decided to change?" Get the f*ck out of my face with that!

So anyway, dude asks me what my goals are in joining a gym. I told him I just wanted consistent exercise in my life (which is true). When I workout, particularly in the morning, I feel amazing. I feel powerful and sexy and it improves my entire day. So after I answer his question, dude takes me to the personal training "Success Story" wall (basically a bunch of fat people who have lost weight and now look amazing). I told him the wall was impressive (it was impressive: there were some pretty cool transformations). He asks me if I'm interested in having a trainer. I tell him that I am--eventually (trainers are NOT cheap and I just need to make sure I'm good with my finances before I make that kind of commitment). Dude begins to go on-and-on about how they (the trainers) can "help me lose that weight".

Um. Excuse me?

So its time to sign paperwork, talk money. Dude #1 hands me off to Dude #2 who is in charge of signing up new members. They tell me I can get a cheaper monthly fee if I sign up for personal training. Its $53/session and they're trying to get me to commit to 18 sessions (read: $954...but in 3 installments, of course). I am clearly not in a position to financially commit to that. Dude #1 begins to give me the side-eye and insinuates that I'm not committed to weight loss.

Let's pause and note: I never said I was joining the gym to lose weight. I understand that you're all buff and think you know everything about being healthy but one isn't required to spend $954 over 3 months to be healthy. I'm sure the circuit training classes y'all offer will do the same thing. And lastly, all this fat-girl-judgment is making me wanna take my little money elsewhere.

So at this point I'm obviously uncomfortable and I am sure it shows in my body language. The manager comes up and essentially asks me what's wrong. I subtly let him know I'm not comfortable giving $300+ today for personal training sessions. I just wanna join the gym, go to a few classes, move my body consistently, maybe learn some nutritional tips...Manager is completely understanding. He signs me up for a general membership and throws in a free consultation with a personal trainer (which is tomorrow at noon).

It really threw me for a loop. My only hesitation in committing to the personal trainer was the money. I haven't even started working yet and I am currently poor. But as soon as I backed off of the training commitment Dude #1 gave me this "you're fat. You need to get this in check, but I see you aren't serious about weight loss"-vibe. I was shocked.

I think the root of my shock was that when I think about myself or if I were to describe myself the first words out of my mouth would not be "fat" (at least not in a negative connotation). My weight has never been something that defined me. It's an accurate statement to say I'm overweight or fat. But it never occurred to me that when people meet me/see me on the street they're judging me...to them I'm "that fat girl." Maybe its because I haven't always been overweight? I didn't really gain a significant amount of weight until college (I blame beer pong and 3AM Pokey Sticks). And I'll even admit I haven't been vigilant or consistent about losing the weight. Yes I know what I look like...I'm well aware that a size 14 dress looks vastly different from a size 4 dress. But when I look in the mirror I see pretty. I see someone worth getting to know. And like I said before, its only in the past five months have I begun to truly understand that people perhaps see something different...something wrong.

I find it truly baffling.

But I will say this: Dude #1's judgment doesn't hurt me. It doesn't even sting. I can truthfully say that I know who and what I am. And anyone who would judge me or treat me differently because of what size pants I wear can truly kiss my ENTIRE ASS. They can kiss it now. They can kiss it when I gain 100 more pounds. They can kiss it when I'm a size 4. Not to sound all Oprah-after school special-cliche: but I'm gonna be the same woman no matter how big or small I am. While I understand the nature of attraction, which is largely visual, it admittedly makes me a little sad we live in a society that finds zero value in who people are.

So yeah, I joined a gym today. And I'm looking forward to sweating it out: feeling sexy and powerful!

Freeeeeeeedom

The Bar is over. I'm free. 

8 days til the Bar: Stream of Consciousness

1. I'm shocked that I'm not crying daily. Shocked. 
2. I dyed my hair RED. But luckily that depression black I was rocking before kept it from being Rihanna-clown-red.
3. I've given up bras. You can't make me wear one. 
4. But I wear earrings and mascara daily. Gotta remind myself I'm a lady. 
5. I start my job in less than a month. 
6. They'll probably fire me for this red hair. Not dying it back though.
7. I'm quite thankful to TN for combining larceny, embezzlement, and false pretenses into one crime: Theft
8. I had to remind myself why I can't get whiteboywasted at 8:30 AM on a Tuesday (Hi, my name is Akili...)
9. This morning I was running around the house naked doing a "sexy dance" to Rihanna's Rude Boy. There was absolutely nothing sexy about this dance and my sister's dog definitely gave me the sideeye. Bitch. 
10. I'll probably cry when I finish this test next week. I'll cry. Hard. 

Everything in moderation

I had this boyfriend in high school. The "love of my life" (aka the first boy to really show me any attention) and after he decided he was interested in me, we were inseparable.  Connected at the hip, mouth, hand--you name it. For months: always together (this was boarding school after all). When he went to play a pick-up game with the boys, I'd tag along and watch from the bleachers. [This story is really mortifying in hindsight. I was such a clingy-loser] And then in the Spring semester, not even one month after I'd given him my...err...innocence, I went away for the weekend for a family obligation. He took someone else's innocence (not kidding). And just like that it was over. I was humiliated and embarrassed. But for whatever reason I still let him take me to the prom and de-innocence me some more...in a car...that wasn't his or mine...in my prom gown...SIGH (um...self-esteem issues in teenage girls is a REAL effing problem -_- )

I bring all this up to say...beyond the fact my high school boyfriend was an immature, vagina-hungry douche bag who told me he loved me to get what he wanted, I think the downfall of our relationship was we spent waaaay too much time together. I mean who *really* wants to be with some needy clingy girl who has NO LIFE? Too much of anything can turn something so good into getting cheated on and going back for mediocre sex.

Too much of anything...even something you love is bad. Too much rain? You get traumatizing tornadoes that kill people and destroy people's lives (I'm looking at YOU Tuscaloosa tornado). I still feel a certain kind of way in rain storms. Something I loved turned bad. And now with this damn bar exam: too much law. I wake up at 6:30AM and read the law ALL DAMN DAY. And I'm sick of it. If I never have to write the words, "Under Tennessee law" again it'll be too soon. And to think, after I conquer this beast in about 2 weeks...I get to do it all again in February to get my Alabama license. FML.

Too much of anything...SMH. Meanwhile, I just Google'd culinary school. I think I'll become a professional chef, win Chopped 6 times and pay off my law school loans (even though I'll probably be an additional $100,000 in debt from culinary school). Sounds like a solid plan, no?

Author's Note: I know I sound like a whiny bitch-baby and I am incredibly thankful to have completed law school, secured gainful employment and am quite excited to start the next phase of my life. But the bar exam can officially suck my dick. Hmph.

Extreme Makeover: Akili Edition

Blogging for me is an exchange between people. I write these little entries to give a piece of myself and in return I feel I've somehow "earned" the pieces my fellow bloggers share with me. Sometimes my blog is incredibly personal. Other times its whimsical. But everything I write or post here comes from such an honest place--it's what I'm feeling, into, or not into at that exact moment. Sometimes I wonder why I don't just write this stuff in my personal journal(s) that I've been keeping since 8th grade? But then I read something another blogger wrote that strikes a chord or teaches me something and I appreciate my little blog that about 3 people read all over again. A good friend blogged yesterday and I swear she held a mirror up to my current situation and released me from some heavy thoughts/feelings. On past loves, hurts, etc., she wrote:

 And it's kind of irrational because I'm not allowing those two guys to be what they are: human. They're two humans who are capable of (and perhaps even entitled to) making mistakes, just like me. I'm not perfect. Neither were they. So I should just be okay with that. I'm tucking away the not-so-good moments, and remembering the best qualities and memories

This really struck a chord with me. One thing I've learned over the past three years is that I am an extreme person. When it comes to anything, I'm either all in or I'm all out. There's very little ambivalence with me. Especially when it comes to people. I think back to after my first year of law school. This girl I considered a pretty good friend said something (or didn't say...hell, I'll never know) hurtful about me behind my back. And boom--with no confrontation, with no discussion, with no opportunity for her to explain she simply was not my friend anymore. I couldn't do it. I felt like to give her another chance, to talk it out with her was foolish on my part and for the life of me I could not forgive this girl. And I stuck with this decision for the next two years. We were not friends. She tried to be friends. She continuously reached out. I would talk to her on a purely superficial level, but I never opened myself up to her again. Even now, I'm not sure if I should have opened myself on again, but what makes me sad is I was so unrelenting in believing she didn't deserve that compassion and grace from me.

I think about my current "hurt". (There's always a damn hurt with me, LOL). Now, this one was a little more egregious than talking a little bit behind my back. This struck at the core and foundation of a friendship that I thought I was building to last...for the long haul. And I was incredibly vulnerable with this person...the only other people who have seen me this naked are V and KFM. And I trusted. But the thing was I knew he wasn't perfect. I had witnessed a lot of his faults and fuck ups first hand. But yet when those faults manifested themselves against me I was so shocked and again, did not know how or have the tools to even begin to move forward. I feel like I've just been stuck in the hurt all this time. Claiming I'm getting over it. Telling friends that. Telling him that. But in reality I'm still back in my car reading some of the most shocking words--trying to just make it home. I'm still in my apartment in Tuscaloosa pondering how this could have happened. I'm still angry that he didn't seem to care I was hurt.

But after I reading my blogger-friend's words I've had a realization...or a few. I was vulnerable with this person--I expected him to see it all, the good and the bad and accept it, all of it. In my mind, I sort of saw that as his duty as my friend. This is me, naked. Love it all. But did I really offer him the same thing? I saw him naked, too. And when part of the "bad" touched me, I couldn't handle it. I couldn't forgive. Now, I am not saying that every time someone hurts you in some way, they deserve your immediate forgiveness and there's something wrong with you if you can't do that. No, some people need to get the fuck out of your life when they've hurt you. But I think about the standards I held this person to...and sometimes I wonder if I failed to live up to my own expectations. And as much as I want to be the "victim" here and make him the bad guy...we both really fucked up in this situation, but it wasn't "unacceptable" until I got hurt. And that just seems hypocritical...and not right.

So today I'm looking at the situation for what it is: I had (or have) a friend (honestly, I'm not so sure these days). We both made some individual and mutual mistakes. I got hurt and maybe in his own way he got hurt...although I'm not sure if I hurt him...if hurting me hurt him...or if he was simply hurt because of his own individual mistakes. I don't think he'll ever tell me, so I can't dwell on it. The simple fact that he hurt me doesn't make him the spawn of Satan ( I should probably stop referring to him as "The Dark Lord"). He's not perfect. He's human. He fucked up. It happens. But he's still someone who believed (believes?) in me more than most in this world. He still someone who I think would pray for me if I asked. I've seen this guy struggle to be better...really struggle. And despite all the ugliness and anger I've felt...that still means something.

I think what I'm learning from all this is that the world is not nor will it ever be black and white. I need to learn how to better handle the shades of gray. There is a way to protect oneself and love oneself without being so extreme. So all or nothing. Strength doesn't mean pushing anything or anyone unpleasant away. Argh. Growing pains.

Summer Playlist

I'm (Not) OK

Grief is a horribly complex thing. Its heavy, burdensome, overwhelming, duplicitous, and dangerous. You could be say, sitting in a Starbucks attempting to understand wills and estates and suddenly be overcome by memories and feelings and anger and confusion. And be completely taken aback.

Where did this wave of emotion come from? You had been working the "stages": you went from denial to anger (stayed in anger for a while); didn't do too much bargaining, you were too eager for the depression part. You thought you had worked your way into acceptance. Acceptance. Apparently not so easy to reach.

So once you realize you are clearly not nearly as at peace with the situation (the mascara tears could be a good indication) you get angry...at yourself. Why the f*ck do you care so much? About someone who obviously isn't crying alligator tears over you? You are wasting valuable bar-studying-time on a wolf in sheep's clothing. On someone who does not care: either because they don't know how to care or simply don't give a flying f*ck because they're evil, cold, and heartless. Either way, you are boo-boo the fool crying in a motherf*cking Starbucks while the barrista gives you life's ultimate SIDE-EYE.

Grief is a hard thing. Mourning the good times. Wondering if the good times were even real. After all a wolf in sheep's clothing tricked you into trusting...until the point you followed the damn wolf off a cliff. Let's not be too much of the victim here: you willingly followed the wolf into doing some stupid sh*t you knew was wrong...but you never considered the wolf would leave you bleeding at the bottom of the damn cliff.

So...you accept the notion that you simply are NOT ok with the situation. So you search for the lesson in this. Well, there's the obvious one...(stop following the same wolves over the same cliff...dumbass). But any other lesson you could come up with ("stop being so open", "you expect too much of people", "this is all your fault, you should have known better", "you ruined it...once again.") just seem cynical and real "Bitter Bitch" and I refuse to be that. I refuse to be bitter about ALL people because of one (and my own poor decision-making).

I just want to get to the point where I don't care anymore. I want to know why I still care. But I'm not there yet. I'm not OK. F*CK.