The Biggest Loser, Not Just a Show on NBC

A few months ago I experienced some sort of life change.  As you may know, I decided to start writing a blog because of this ONE HORRIBLE DATE that I had.  I blame my ego for assuming that I would be going on all these dates and later writing about the experience, but writing a blog about bad dates only works when you are going on bad dates - actually ... it only works when you are going on dates, period.  Apparently, I must be walking around with leprosy … but then I said to myself, it can’t be Leprosy, maybe I just need to get my ass into shape (because if one more person tells me, “Wow, you are really pretty for a fat girl”, I swear I am going to purchase a gun and shoot them in the face with it or maybe I’ll just tie them to a bed and shove fried chicken and cake down their throat), because THAT'S NOT A COMPLIMENT, ASSHOLE!!!

This is me: Challenge weigh-in day and with the cash

I think I have struggled with my weight for as long as I can remember.  I am not morbidly obese, but throughout the years I’ve only managed to get bigger and I am no longer in the healthy weight range.  It has taken me many, many years to accept this and to actually be semi “OK” with the fact that I am a ... BBW.  Yes.  I said it, “I AM A BIG BEAUTIFUL WOMAN"!  I will say this:  My weight has never deterred me from living my life (except for minor things like: jumping on a stripper pole or perhaps wearing a mini dress in public or walking around in a bikini) nor has it affected my romantic/sexual life.  Believe me when I say: There is someone out there for everyone and there are men out there (even the hot, model types) that LOVE a thick chick (don’t let them tell you otherwise - BECAUSE THEY ARE LYING!!!).  Besides, a majority of it IS personality and I can vouch for that – BELIEVE ME when I tell you that personality goes a loooooong way.  Anyway, one day, I finally got a wake-up call and her name is: MY SISTER.  Only a sister can destroy you with words and get away with it.  Although I didn't speak to her for 3 days because of the things she said to me, I now thank her everyday because of the things she said to me.  It’s OK to be big and own it, but it’s not OK to be big and unhealthy.  Whether or not you accept yourself for whom you are is up to you, but deep down inside, no matter how good I’ve gotten at hiding it, I was extremely unhappy and not to mention lazy, tired and slowly killing myself – health wise. 

I'm in it to win it, WHORES!!!

… and so was born The Biggest Loser.

 A group of us (12 friends including myself) decided that we all needed to kick our fat in the ass and wave it goodbye.  July 1^st, the start of our new and improved life.  It’s unfortunate that it took $1,200.00, for me (or us) to realize that I’m too fat and I need to lose weight, but FUCK. THAT. SHIT!  If money is what it takes, then I’m in it to win it!!!  This competition has brought out the worst in us, personality-wise.  Especially Frank (I got permission to put him on blast, FYI – he can’t sue me), the mother-fucking troll who has spent the greater part of this competition trying to sabotage our progress, by posting pictures of the most delicious treats and by delivering 3 dozen donuts to our houses.  What. The FUCK, Who the fuck does that!?!  

What kind of human being does this!?!  Who are these people that I once called friends? 

Who does this!?

Just so you know, when I told my friend that I sprained my ankle, this was his response:

Ruthless Psychopath

It's only been one whole week and already, the claws have come out.  This competition has turned into a fight to the finish.  Apparently, this competition has also made me believe that I'm Flo Jo and that I'm competing in the 1988 Olympics, but obviously I'm not her because I managed to sprain my ankle last week, 2 DAYS INTO THIS FUCKING COMPETITION, while I was doing high-knees as if someone shoved a firecracker up my ass.  I've been out of commission for the past week, but my diet has been stricter than ever ... well, except for Saturday when I went camping and decided to shove three hot dogs and a coca-cola down my throat, followed by an ice cone (YIKES!!!).  One cheat day is OK, I read somewhere that cheat days help with your Leptin levels (often referred to as your starvation hormone - LOOK IT UP PEOPLE!  This blog is not about the facts, it is about a fat people competition!!!).

Anyway, I would like to end this blog on a positive note.  I want to wish all my fellow competitors the best of luck for the next 60 days.  Although we all secretly wish everyone else breaks a legs or gives in to a 5lb bowl on Fettuccine Alfredo, I'm sure deep down inside we all know that at the end of it all there will be no losers.  It doesn't matter who gets to the finish line first, the point is that we will all get to the finish line - that right there is the real prize - aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand the money doesn't hurt either, haha!!!

P.S. If anyone recognizes or sees this grimey mutha fucka, I think I speak for everyone in the competition when I say, "Beat him with a bat and then throw some fried chicken, ice cream and some buffalo wings at him - he LOVES those!!!".

Grimey Asian

 Good Luck y'all!!!

“Aaaalo Natalia?! … Es Mario!”

The Gremlin!  The resemblance is uncanny, people!!!

Seeing as to how it’s Daddy’s Day this weekend, I wanted to write something a little different than my norm.  I would like to dedicate this entry to all the Daddies of the world, especially to the one and only – my little Gremlin (DISCLAIMER: I don’t own my own little gremlin.  Actually, I used to call my Dad my little Gremlin, because he always reminded me of a cute version of a little gremlin from the 1984 classic: Gremlins).  Anyway, I dedicate this to him and all the Dads that stuck around; the ones that busted their butts (without one complaint) to make sure we were OK; the ones that actually gave a shit.  Sometimes, I feel like dads don’t get the credit they deserve – OH and the soon-to-be Daddies – y’all are important too, unless you fuck it up and then … well, you’re on your own! 

My Dad everybody!!!

Because this blog has been my, sort of, “road to recovery”, I feel like I am ready to write about this, so here goes.  About one year and three months ago, my Dad passed away.  It was a death that wasn’t so tragic, only because we knew it was coming, but really.  What death isn’t tragic?  My dad was extremely sick for a very long time so in a way, it was comforting to finally see him leave this world, because there is nothing worse than watching someone you love dearly deteriorate and suffer through a sloooow and painful death.  To be honest, I don’t think it really matters how someone dies because no matter how it happens, a little piece of you dies with them.  There truly are no words that can express the feeling – that void; the hole in your heart that just can’t quite close itself back up.  I really can’t find the words y'all ... losing someone you love is a terrible, terrible feeling.  Death leaves a pain that will never go away; I just believe that we grow accustomed to the pain over time.

Not too long after his death, I began to notice a change in myself.  The once bubbly, outgoing and funny girl slowly began to grow angry, bitter, and depressed.  It wasn’t up until recently that I slowly dragged my way out of the deep, dark hole that I had fallen into, face first.  For a while, I even grew angry towards my mom and my sister because I felt that they bounced back so easily from his passing and there I was, slowly sinking into a bed of quicksand.  I now understand that everyone deals with death in their own way.  Unfortunately, for a little while, it brought me to a dark place.

The hardest part for me is knowing that the (lucky) guy that actually chooses to spend the rest of his life with me, will never know how awesome my Dad truly was.  My Dad will never be there to walk me down the aisle and more unfortunate than anything else, I will never get the father/daughter dance at my wedding that I have dreamed of my entire life.  Although he won’t be there for those special moments, I am forever grateful that he WAS there every single day of my life to help raise me, care for me and to watch me grow up to be a beautiful (and I say that in the least conceited way possible), hard-working, educated woman.

I might never have my father/daughter wedding dance, but I'll always have this

 My dad had a way about him that left an impact on everyone who crossed his path.  Just his sense of humor alone spoke volumes about him.  I can’t tell you how proud I feel when people tell me that I remind them of my Dad through my sense of humor and personality.  It is such a great feeling and it never fails to bring a huge smile to my face.  I miss everything about my Dad.  I miss how we would just sit there and watch cartoons together (picture two grown adults zoned into a Bugs Bunny cartoon).  I miss our daily afternoon chats where he would tell me some crazy shit about his life; I mean stories that you couldn’t even make up.  I miss his stupid, ridiculous and sometimes dirty jokes.  I miss fighting with him about that fact that, “I’m a party animal and if I continue drinking, I’m going to end up in rehab” – so he would say.  I miss his one-of-a-kind, savory dishes that only HE could prepare.  I miss his advice, that no matter what my drama was, he would always end it by saying, “You deserve the best and you should always do what makes YOU happy.”  I miss how he would embarrass me because he just had no shame.  I miss that deep, raspy voice of his, which was quite intimidating if you didn’t know him very well.  But … my absolute and most favorite memories of my Dad have to be the voice mails that he would leave me from time to time.  Because my Dad came from an older generation, I don’t think he fully understood how voice mails actually worked and so, they would go a little something like this:

VM: Hi, you’ve reached Natalia I’m sorry I missed your call.  Just leave your name, number and a brief message and I’ll call you back”.

Dad: Haalo.  Haaaalo!?  Natalia?? Are you there??? (pause) Hangs up.

****************

VM: Hi, you’ve reached Natalia (blah, blah, blah) I’ll call you back.

Dad: Haaalo! HAAALOOOO! (pause and a sigh) This Goddamn kid (Um, you haven’t hung up Dad and that’s totally being recorded and I’ll be able to hear it).  Five second pause and then a sigh. Ok, call me …………… BYE!  Es Mario (thanks for letting me know Dad)

It makes me laugh just thinking about it.

This is him probably leaving someone a voice mail. *sighs*

So, wherever you are Dad, I hope you have finally learned how to correctly leave a voice message.  Also, I want to thank you for providing us with a life filled with happiness, laughter, love, and of course some of the best memories that I will never forget.  I truly hope that when I do meet someone, he turns out to be even half the man that you were (and maybe you can help me out a little and start sending him my way).  I am especially thankful that I inherited my two favorite things about you: Your gift of cooking and your sense of humor.  I hope to leave my mark on the world with one laugh and one amazing dish at a time – I promise to never let you down.

I hope you are having a hell of a Father’s Day … Until we meet again my little Gremlin. <3

Welcome Back To Single-hood!!!

One of ma' ladies is recently new to the single scene after a very bad break-up with her boyfriend of 5 years (and for the record, I got the OK from her to write about this).  I will not go into details, but we can just say that he practically pulled the rug out from underneath her.  I had the pleasure of going out with her this past weekend in order to pop her, “Welcome Back to Single-hood” cherry and try to get her mind off the situation – I mean, who can say no to Mexican food and margaritas!?  If I could, I would make up a reason to celebrate ANYTHING, if it meant shoving a burrito down my throat and washing it down with some tequila!  I am NOT getting paid to promote them, but I HIGHLY recommend: Cascabel Taqueria

Although there is not much that you can say to someone who's going through a break-up, I know one thing that's for sure: A break-up is never easy to deal with.  It doesn't matter the situation, how old you are or how many break-ups you've gone through - breakups fucking suck ... A LOT.  We've all been there, at least once.  I'm also sure that we've all had that ONE break-up that left us feeling like we were going to die from it.  The only advice that I could give is: Take as much time as you need to cry it AAAAAAAALL out and once you are done crying, call me up so we can drink the pain away ... Did you survive that? GREAT!!! You are one step closer to the newer and better YOU.  Even though it is easier said than done, you know what?  I did it and I'm still here AND I'm still breathing and so is everyone else that (at one point in their lives) had to walk away from the person that they loved the most.  My favorite part of all of this was when ma' lady asked me how long it took me to get over J1.  My reply?  3 years.  I think I saw her black out, for like a second.  Hey ... everyone deals with breakups in their own way and at their own pace.

I think this is pretty accurate

As we all know (because I'm pretty loud about it), I am no stranger to the single life as I have been single for a good 5 years.  Don’t get me wrong, there have been a couple of long-runners in there (and I don't mean inside my vagina *Boom Boom Psssh*), but no one that I truly considered serious enough to be a boyfriend … Ok, maybe there was one – OK FINE, I’ve been single for 3 years not 5, people!!!  Anyway y’all … I am no stranger to the single life.  For the past THREE years, I have been traveling down the 'singles' road.  There have been some bumps and holes along the way and sure enough I've had those moments where I've felt pretty lonely at times, but overall it’s been a great experience.  There is something about being a party of one that makes you feel empowered.  The ability to do as you wish and to do who you wish (winks), IS AMAZING!!! 

If I could be an advocate for the single life, the following points would be my mantra:

  1. A shitload of guy friends that I don't have to explain

  2. I can eat what I want

  3. I don't always have to shave and be on top of my game

  4. I don't have to explain anything ... to anyone

  5. Slumber parties (yes, they still happen at 30 and they are that much better)

  6. I can eat what I want - that's right I said it twice

  7. Sappy crying movies and not worrying about the puffy, red eyes that follow

  8. No relationship: worries/drama/trouble

Look at this y'all!  I found an article that explains what we go through after a break-up.  I found it very insightful!  A definite MUST-READ: Tristan Coopersmith: 7 Stages of a Breakup

It's so hard to walk away from the person that knows us better than we know ourselves; THAT person that your heart skips a beat for, but trust me when I say: sometimes it's just better to walk away.   When you are at your most vulnerable, I know how much easier it would be to give in and take the person back (that has now severely fucked you over), but it would only be a temporary fix.  Sure, you will have this happy high, but once that goes away what do you have then?  And ask yourself this: could you, in your heart of hearts, truly ever trust this person again and believe in them?  I think, sometimes we become so blinded in a relationship that we lose ourselves and we also lose sight of the future we had once hoped for.  It then just becomes easier to settle with what we have, because we are just so comfortable in our current situation.  That's not to say that relationships can't be fixed, because some relationships have that potential.  It's just a matter of realizing and accepting that often times, the fixing is impossible and you HAVE TO walk away with your dignity and just let it go.  It took a 6 year relationship + 3 years of healing for me to learn that.

Despite all the ups and downs and my terrible dating record, right NOW is the happiest I've ever been.  I know ma' lady doesn't feel the same way that I do at this particular moment, but one day she is going to wake up feeling as if the bag of bricks have finally been lifted off her chest.  Besides, she has so much to look forward to now: Free dinners, wild nights, much-needed alone time AND an entire world of JB's and Lingerers and other freaks that are waiting to get their hands on her and send her running in the opposite direction.  But don't worry, because life has a way of working itself out (someone once told me that) and while it's doing just that, I will be here: to listen to your stories, to get you disgustingly drunk and to support you every step of the way because you are NOT alone!  I promise, it will only get better - Welcome to single-hood Doll!!!

CHEERS!!!

5 Things I've Learned From My Lingerer ...

One day, while chatting away with ma' ladies, Spinda and Pepa (for the record, those aren’t their real names.  I’ve changed their names for their protection, because I’m considerate like that), Pepa gets messaged by not one, but TWO Lingerers!!!  Picture if you will, a sort of surprise gang-bang (Not that I’m familiar.  I’m just assuming that that is how Pepa felt.  I’m almost positive that’s what it would feel like).  Anyway, what is a Lingerer, you ask?  Well, a lingerer is usually a wierdo that can't take a hint and refuses to go away.  It really doesn’t matter how much you ignore him, there is just no stopping someone with that much determination.  He will often times throw you a curve ball and disappear for days or even weeks at a time, but just when you think he’s forgotten all about you, BOOM – you get that message from him.  There it is in all its glory.  That one-worded text message that has a way of making you want to set your phone on fire with a flame thrower ... the dreaded: HI!  It doesn’t matter how many times you tell them to leave you alone – they won’t even get mad or offended - in fact, they’ll ACTUALLY give you your space, but

eventually, they always come back – like a fucking boomerang.

Meeting all kinds of (crazy) people when you are single is just part of the dating ride.  Most of the time, you exchange numbers with someone and nothing comes from it.  Sometimes, we get a good friend out of it, but very seldom do we get a Lingerer.  My Lingerer is kind of special and not in that romantic kind of way, more like in that crazy asshole kind of way.  We hung out and it just didn’t work out (perhaps because he had a girlfriend that he forgot to tell me about, who he was fighting with at the time ... Asshole).   But besides that little indiscretion, there was nothing more to it … or so I thought (please refer to pictures 1 through 4 ... crazy).

Although the conversations between "Too-Tall P" and myself are quite short (to say the least) and it is obvious that nothing beautiful will ever blossom between us, I can actually say that I have learned some things
from my Lingerer.  I have compiled a list below ... You're welcome.

The 5 Things I've Learned From My Lingerer:
1. He's a fucking psycho
2. He apparently likes pinups and likes to fuck hard and fuck fast ... triple threat!
3. He has an abnormally huge penis (image has been shielded from readers eyes - sorry y'all)
4. I don't like surprise penis pics.  Unless I personally request a photo, please keep that shit to yourself!!!
5. Never, ever, EVER send inappropriate texts to someone, unless you are in a committed relationship with them (i.e. long term boyfriend and/or husband), because you never know what the other person will do with those texts, i.e. BLOG ...I can't stress this enough - JUST DON'T DO IT PEOPLE!!!

I can't stand m Lingerer anymore; he is fucking annoying (but unintentionally funny).  No matter how much I ignore him (as you can see), I can't get rid of him and I REFUSE to change my number!!! Although I may have lost this battle y'all, I WILL NOT LOSE THE WAR!!!

The struggle continues ...

Karma Is a Greedy Whore and She’s Taking All the Men

Just like every little girl out there, I too grew up thinking that I would be married, most likely, by the time I was 25 years old.  I blame all those Disney movies for stuffing unrealistic garbage in my head.  For a long time, I truly believed that maybe, just maybe, if I made myself drown at the beach, a handsome prince (or lifeguard) would save me and gracefully sweep me off my feet and carry me into the sunset in his strong tattooed arms and we would live happily ever after … The End.  What Disney failed to tell us is that not every guy we meet in life is going to be a rich, handsome prince (that’s still single).  Sometimes, he’s still married and wants you as his side piece, or sometimes he has a lot of emotional baggage and is afraid to commit, and SOMETIMES, he just doesn’t have his shit together and working (God forbid) is just an unfathomable idea.  Where are those movies!?!?  Are they locked up somewhere in the Disney vault???  For some little girls, that perfect dream came true, but as for me?  Well … I’m still dreaming.  At 25, instead of getting married to the love of my life, I was breaking up with him after 6 long years.  Fast forward 5 years later and here I am, 30 years old and frantically searching for “the one” (and I say frantically because it sounds more dramatic that way).  But let’s just be honest here, if your future husband was suddenly kidnapped and being tortured in some prison camp, I’m sure you wouldn’t be sitting at home painting your nails.  Because seriously – where else could he be?  It’s the only logical explanation. 

Now, I want to clarify one thing, I am 30 years old and I KNOW that technically, I am NOT old and that I still have my entire life ahead of me and things will happen when they are meant to happen … blah, blah, blah, bullshit, bullshit and more bullshit, but honestly, it really sucks being one of the last boy-friend-less, relationship-less, childless people in your family.  My favorite question is, “So?  When is it your turn Nat?” *rolls eyes*.  Obviously, not any time soon and thanks for the reminder dick.  I don’t respond like that out loud because my mom raised me better than that, but that’s what I would say, if I knew my mom wasn’t going to beat me for being rude and disrespectful.

I don’t want you guys to read this and think that I’m walking around like that little wind-up doll, with a black cloud over my head in that commercial for Pristiq (am I even allowed mentioning products on here?  Am I going to get sued?  Great, now I’ll be a 30 year old single female, depressed and millions of dollars in debt.  Maybe Pristiq will sponsor me instead, for advertising them on my blog unintentionally and after they sue me they can help ease my depression with some free pills).  Anyway, the point here people is that I’m not depressed, I’m generally a pretty happy person, I actually enjoy being single very much.  I do what I want, when I want and I have no one to answer to.  I can go out and party my ass off or sit at home and drink a bottle of wine by myself or watch sappy movies all night and cry until my eyes look like they were attacked by a family of wasps.  I can be selfish and think about ONLY myself – I love that.  I just have my moments where I sit and wonder if I’m being punished for the shit I’ve done in my life (some of which I’m not proud of).  Although I know that this is a terrible way of thinking, there is a small part of me that strongly believes that Karma is acting like a vindictive whore and she is coming at me – full force.  I have my issues, I won’t deny that, but I also think I have a lot to offer.  Apparently the guys I’ve been dating are blind, because they can’t see the kind of lady I have the potential to be (if you look past the drinking and cursing, I know she is in there somewhere) … I guess everyone is right though, maybe it’s just not my time.

I spent this weekend not on any dates, but rather in the company of some good friends, drinking, overeating and dishing out some good stories about our experiences with the opposite sex.  Conclusion: Guys suck and girls are fabulous.  As we discussed our dating disasters, my friend stumbled upon this little gem of a deal in her LivingSocial email - for a speed dating event.  Amidst all the drinking and guy bashing, the Gods were finally giving in!!!  After some extensive research on the event, I realized the following:

          1. I now fall into the 30-43 year old bracket.  I used to love dating guys 10 years + older than me ... That now means dating guys in their 40's.  OUCH.
          2. The entire month of June for HurryDate is already booked!?!?  What. The fuck.  The competition is getting fierce.  At this rate, it’s time I considered adopting a cat or 10 … or maybe I need to work on learning some MMA fighting just in case I need to take a bitch down at this speed dating event.  I’m hoping I don’t have to resort to the later, but if Ariel, Jasmine, and Mulan all fought for love, why cant I?

Although I’m not THAT crazy about this speed dating idea, the truth is, I’m secretly hoping to find someone there just as fucked up as I am.  Who knows?  Maybe we will hit it off and I’ll be able to ask him how he was able to escape the prison camp and find his way here to me and then we will run off into the sunset, with our speed dating ID badges still intact and live happily ever after.  The end.

Look at that sunset!  This could be us ... I'm at a loss for words.