Big Fat Hairy Living

This morning on the bus, an incredibly beautiful fat young Italian-looking cub sat in front of me. He had a beautifully thick jet-black goatee. I wanted to reach out and touch it.

Instead I satisfied myself by staring at him openly. He noticed me and looked uncomfortable. I enjoy making straight men feel exactly the same way they always make women feel. It almost feels like cosmic justice.

I feel a little awkward writing an entry simply to explain another entry, but I think I need to do it.

Everyone has triggers that set them off. I’ve mentioned some of mine before. One of mine is being left out. I never had many friends as a child, so being left out is one of the irrational fears that I have. It’s only as an adult — only recently, as a matter of fact — that I’ve managed to build up a circle of friends that I like and trust. I’m still insecure enough that it all still seems fragile and somewhat tentative to me.

I deliberately disabled comments for that posting because I didn’t want it to look like a cry for pity. It wasn’t my intention to slag anyone or blame anyone, but simply a way for me to reflect on my fear of abandonment and examine what its roots are.

I write my journal to help me reflect on my thoughts and fears and feelings. I do occasionally put fun posts in it, but the biggest function it plays for me is therapy. Looking back on my journal of two years ago, I can see how much I’ve grown and matured as a person in that time. I’ve gone from a totally insecure, lonely, depressed person, to someone who is less insecure, no longer lonely, and no longer depressed. I’m even starting to like myself, and, believe it or not, my job.

My journal is primarily for me to reflect on myself, and I try to take care not to turn it into an instrument of validation and self-pity. Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I don’t.

It’s ironic that I was reading a journal the other day that remarked on how funny it is that a single offhand comment can make one’s whole day.

A few minutes ago, my whole great weekend came crashing down when I found out that some friends decided to go and have fun without calling me.

When I was in grade school, I really only had one friend. His name was Rahel Ahmed. My mother was driving me to school on a really stormy morning, and she offered him and his sister a ride in her car. She wanted to make me a friend — my mom looking out for me once again. We both were socially unskilled and somewhat geeky, so we got along really well. We were the best of friends for several years, until around the time puberty hit.

In grades seven and eight, he started becoming popular. I stayed unpopular, probably because I was fat. He started hanging out with the same people that were making fun of me and started ignoring me more and more. This didn’t happen all at once. It was something that was subtle and took years for me to notice.

All the time, he would do things without inviting me. I’d invite him to hang out with me on my birthday (Remember, no birthday parties for Jehovah’s Witnesses) but he would never want to come. Despite his constantly ignoring me, he was my only real friend. I considered him my best friend, but now that I look back at it, he never really considered me his friend. He didn’t have any real friends.

It was only in my last year at high school that I managed to make another friend, a friend that is the only person from my high school still worth knowing. I’m still in touch with him.

The summer after Grade 13, I came out to Rahel. He never called or spoke to me again.

Being left out still makes me cry.

My boyfriend and I went to a Michael A. party last night. The cheesy french guy who made nasty comments to me last time was there, and I had to keep chasing him away from me. Other than that, it was fun. Michael A.’s parties are always relaxed and attitude-free.

Several guys told me I was cute. I’m still not used to being complimented, but it made me feel much more comfortable there than at the last party in November.

My boyfriend is sleeping in my bed now. He’s making the cutest snoring sounds.

I eat lunch with my co-workers because it makes it seem as though I care about them and what they think. That’s useful only because appearances are all that matter in large corporations.

All they’ve been talking about at lunch for the past three days is which SUV is the best. The Italian one, hilariously enough named Gino, did the typical WOP thing and just bought a fancy Lexus to prove that he’s rich. Another one of them complained that the Ford something-or-other isn’t a real off-road vehicle. These people live in Richmond Hill and Burlington. Why would they ever need to go off-road? Why can’t they realize how thoroughly they’ve bought into the empty suburban 2.5-kids, two car lifestyle?

It’s like I’m working with a bunch of blind people and am the only one who can see. They’ll never understand that there’s a whole other world out there that they’re totally unaware of. They can’t see it and can’t even conceive of it.

There are a lot of things that I will never experience, but I’m aware of that. They aren’t even aware of it.

Uri-Mate™, “the urination funnel for women and children”:

Uri-Mate™ is individually for your protection, and it can be practiced in the privacy of your own home. It’s the safe way for women to urinate!

Remember, women: if you don’t stick your pussy into a cone when you piss, you’re just not being safe!

Yes, it is a cliché that it’s the little things that makes one smile, but it’s a cliché for a reason.

The cashier at the pharmacy — the cashier who serves me almost every time I’m there — recognized me and asked me how I’d been.

On the way back from the pharmacy, a guy walking down the street smiled at me, rubbed his chin, and said “Cool goatee, man.”

National Post: “You might not know it, but there are people among us on the TTC every day with more complex agendas than just going from A to B. They’re riding for fun. They’re taking pictures. They’re picking up old bus transfers and pressing them into scrapbooks. They’re transit enthusiasts.”

One of my purchases on Saturday was a French baguette tray from Fluid Living on Queen West. I know you want to check it out.

I also got some placemats, napkins, and a frying pan at Kitchen Stuff Plus’s 25% off Yonge and Dundas store lease expiry sale, and a cool Limbö light for my bedroom, new at IKEA. Shopping makes me feel good!

On Sunday night, I downloaded some porn of a really sexy musclebear. Unfortunately in it, he’s eating out some woman’s pussy. Nothing looks more unmasculine than a hairy muscular guy with a shaved head and bushy goatee licking a clitoris. Yuck.