Boys Boys Boys

Many thanks to Lady GaGa for giving me the brilliant title for this post.

As I said in a previous post, dating has become the new blogging throughout the past year. For me, this dating thing has been a BIG deal for a ton of reasons, the biggest of which is that I've learned far more about myself and the opposite sex than I ever thought I could know. I've pushed myself to date all kinds of men this year, some of whom I never thought I would allow myself to consider. I guess I've learned that you never really know who you'll spark with unless you give the person a chance. So I've given lots of men lots of chances; sometimes too many, sometimes not enough, sometimes the perfect amount. Obviously I'm still single, so the right one hasn't come along; but I've gained a newfound appreciation for this game they call dating.

I think the biggest, most meaningful lesson I've learned from all of this is that I actually am a strong, powerful sexual creature. It's exciting for me to know that I--in both physical and emotional ways--have the power to excite a man. I've had men tell me that I'm sexy, that I'm hot, that they want me. Until this year, this was uncharted territory in Tracy-Land. It's taken me a long time, but I've allowed myself to become much more physical with men than I've ever been before; while this may not sound like a big deal, for someone like me who's afraid to take her clothes off in a women's locker room, the fact that I've taken my clothes off for a few select men throughout the past year is indeed a very big deal. I've had to learn how to pick and choose which men are allowed to see this side of me, as well as when to let them see it (it just so happens that giving away too much too soon :::coughcoughonthefirstdatecoughcough::: is a big no-no, no matter your size or shape.) While I knew this before, I guess I had to play around before I could really understand the concept.

I've also learned that most men are not the shallow jackasses I once thought they were. Sure, there was the guy who told me I should have surgery because my "leftovers" were a "turn-off" and "hideous" (his words, not mine) and the guy who thought that bigger girls put out more easily than smaller ones because we're more desperate for attention. Both guys were losers who I never allowed to see me again. But more often than not, I've had experiences with guys that have surprised me--those who have been more than understanding about who I am and why my body is the way it is. Those who have told me that they're proud of my accomplishments and want to make me feel as beautiful as they think I am. The one who, so sweetly, told me that when he looked at my body he just saw ME as a whole person, inside and out. It's those experiences that have changed the way I think about the male gender and their attitudes towards women of every shape and size. Though my relationships with them didn't work out, they've all stayed with me in positive ways and helped me to see my sexuality, my body, and my whole self in a much different light.

Most of these guys stayed with me for 2-4 weeks. One of them, however, was a part of my life from January through April. I guess you could say it was the longest romantic "relationship" I've ever had, though neither of us ever declared feelings or titles for the other. It was a complicated situation, but to this point, the most meaningful connection I've had with a man in a long time. We could talk to each other about anything and everything, sharing stories and laughter and, at one point, tears. I loved spending time with him and always left feeling like THIS time was going to change everything, that THIS time he'd want to move our relationship to the next level; that never happened. It took all of the courage I had to call and dump him that Wednesday night at the end of April, explaining simply that I liked him a lot, but needed and deserved more from a relationship. I cried myself that night, so scared that I was giving up on someone who really did honor me for who I was on the inside and outside. It was for the best, which I see now--but it still, even 2 months later, hurts like hell sometimes. I still miss him, especially after a bad first date or when I'm feeling lonely. I realized, as soon as I'd hung up the phone with him that night, that the whole time I was trying to tell myself I DIDN'T have feelings for him, I actually cultivated a very strong "like" (love seems to strong, even now) for him. I haven't felt that way about anyone in a long time, since Andrew back in high school.

I go back and forth about how my feelings towards this dating business. I've learned SO MUCH about myself (there is tons of stuff I could add to this post, but won't) and about relationships. I've had a great time with so many of these people and have--for the most part--been treated like a lady. It feels good to share the soft, romantic, sexy side of myself with someone else AND with myself. I've enjoyed getting to know this side of me. Though, on the other hand, now that I've had a taste of the many perks of being in a relationship, I want more. Moreso than ever before, I want to know what real love is. I want to experience it on all levels. I actually crave physical contact in ways I never did before. The loneliness that I thought couldn't get any worse has actually become palpable. It's all the more reason to keep putting myself out there and keep dating and keep learning--even when things don't go as I'd like them to.

I feel like there's so, so much more I could say, but this post is already quite lengthy. Until next time...

For honesty's sake, I feel the need to share the following:

When I said in my last post that I'd gained 10 lbs, I was actually lying. I didn't know it at the time, but the number of pounds I thought I'd gained this year was far from the truth.

I haven't gained an ounce since the last time I weighed myself, about 4 months ago.

I was shocked and amazed when I stepped on the scale yesterday and the number was exactly the same as it had been all that time ago. I even turned the scale off and on again and weighed myself one more time to make sure it was correct. Same number.

Isn't it fascinating how we build these things up in our heads? All semester, I'd been convinced that I'd put on pounds. As a result, I was terrified of stepping on the scale to see if I was actually right, so I avoided it like the plague. It's kind of the same thing as when I avoid checking the balance of my bank account because I think I don't have any money, only to see that I DO have money and all is right with the world. I am such a paranoid freak.

It's amazing how bad experiences on the scale and with my bank account can elicit this silly fear in me and so many of us.

I remember the early days of this blog, when I was on WW and had a weekly weigh-in. The truth--AKA the number on the scale--was right there for me to see. It was encouraging to see the numbers decrease as the years went on, and I had a secure sense of how I was doing with my weight loss goals. In a strange way, I actually looked forward to my weigh-ins. The farther I get from that place, where my weight-loss was at the forefront of my life, the less I want to know what that number is. As I continue my life's journey, the act of losing weight becomes increasingly more difficult for physiological and emotional reasons. Smaller people lose weight much more slowly, but more than that, the truths about my past and present that I continue to explore become much harder to bear. I ignore them out of fear for what they really mean and how I and others will react to my exploring them.

Perhaps it's this fear of the truth that's prevented me from losing this last 50-ish pounds and not the self-acceptance or complacency I've told myself it was. I'm honestly not sure what it is, but I know that through the struggle to find the answers I can only grow (and shrink) in the best ways possible.

The process of opening myself up to the truth is scary as hell, whether or not I allow myself to do it. Regardless, maybe it's time to let it happen...

Starting Over

It's been a long time since I've felt compelled to come back to this space. There are so many reasons why, including school and work and my newfound NYC social life, but the truth of the matter is that my weight loss just isn't a top priority in my life these days. I jokingly told someone a few months back that "dating is the new blogging", meaning I was concentrating on actually HAVING a life rather than merely documenting what I thought was my life. Living a fulfilling life is so much more than digging into your emotional core for the world (or, a small part of my world) to see. Sometimes, it's about forgetting who you were and who you want to be and remembering who you are RIGHT NOW, in the present time and place. Sometimes, it feels good to forget about all the shit and hard work and go out and have fun. For me, that's a huge life lesson that I'm glad I finally learned.

However, something lately has been pulling me back here. Perhaps it's the 10 pounds I've gained after an academically and emotionally stimulating/exhausting year. I realized yesterday, as I was shoveling salad down my throat after writing to my cousins about a slimeball who'd been dating both me and a good friend of mine, that I was falling victim to emotional eating. I was eating that salad so quickly to forget about my anger and disappointment, and worse than that, it felt GOOD to be doing so. In my efforts to live in the moment and put my past behind me, I'd actually reverted to the old habits that made my past so painful in the first place. After 4 years of living a new, healthy lifestyle, the old Tracy is still there and determined to make her presence known. I thought about it all yesterday afternoon; perhaps the old Tracy has been there all year long, crying out for the attention that I'd been denying her by ignoring this blog and pretending my healthy habits were now permanent.

As much as I'd like to live fully in the present, perhaps I'm not one of those people who'll ever be able to completely do so. I can't just forget my past self to concentrate on my present and future selves--not only because they're a part of me, but because something in there is still unresolved and screaming out to be acknowledged. That something still finds comfort and love from food, and until that something is heard and healed, I can't go on ignoring it and thinking it'll go away.

So here I am, back in this safe space where I can be my most authentic and raw self for the people who love and support me no matter what I say or do. I'm not sure what direction the blog will take from here, how often I'll be writing, or if the honest feelings I plan to divulge will actually help me to stay on the right track; I do think, however, that being surrounded by this community can assist me in making smarter choices and being gentle with myself without giving myself too much leeway. We shall see. In the meantime, it feels good to be back here, and I hope to stay awhile.

Upon writing this, I'm realizing that maybe it's actually possible to live in the past and the present all at the same time. The past conjures up feelings that affect your behaviors in the present--therefore, it's all one and the same. Just something to play with as I start this brave new journey, yet again.