You Control the Message

So I went ahead and figured out one of life's great dating mysteries. It only took me years of countless conversations, some introspective insight and brief mathematical analysis to check it off the list. You're welcome. What riddle is it that I've solved?

Why no one likes your boyfriend.

Well, not your boyfriend. And def not my boyfriend (because really, who doesn't like J? I have to describe the scene I witnessed last night when we stopped by his local, gourmet grocery store: within a matter of seconds of our entrance, ALL six guys behind the deli/prepared food counter shouted his NAME! Seriously, it was like escorting a Jonas brother through a New Jersey mall or Robert Pattinson through my old apartment; I've never seen anything like it. Before he could even order a half-pound of honey maple turkey, someone had already started slicing it up for him. I'm dating a Citarella rockstar. Apparently it was the 'perfect storm' of all the employees who know him, but ohmygod it was surreal slash hilarious. I guess that's what happens when you pick up dinner there every night for like seven years.).

I digress.

Back to the issue: why your friends might not think your BF is as great as you think he is. Or why you don't think your BFF's BF is that great. 

At one time or another, Every girl ever complains about her significant other (and the same is prob true with guys about their GFs  - obv not me 'cause I'm perf). It is normal to vent - that's a reason why we have friends - but when you're only sharing the negative/annoying/eye-rolling aspects of your relationship then your friends will use that to base their opinion of your BF.

While you might gush about the cutesy nicery in the beginning, that sort of "good" overshare tends to end with the Honeymoon Phase. Eventually relationship updates switch from "Oh he did something so sweet" to "Ugh, can you believe he did this?!"

I advise you to make an effort to balance out your BF stories if you want your friends to be supportive of your relationship and offer sound advice when needed. If you talk about his good qualities more often, then they will be much more likely to help you see when you are *possibly* overreacting about something silly instead of just offering up a "He sucks" blanket conclusion.

On the flip side, I also suggest taking this into account in your role as a friend. While you might not think too highly of the guy your friend has chosen to be with, you might just not really have a genuine perception of him as a boyfriend. Chances are you have no idea what goes on in your friends' relationships when you're not around (unless you are a creepy stalker, in which case that is uber weird). It's sort of like reality TV - editing and splicing up clips typically creates the drama. You're your own producer.

Speaking of reality TV, here's a great example, and also another reason to talk about my fav TV show the Kardashians (seriously, I need to get some other hobbies). Kourtney's boyfriend slash baby-daddy Scott is a total suit-wearing FJO minus the F, portrayed on the show, for the most part, as the Anti-Christ. Kourtney's family knows he's sort of a screw-up, and compared to her sisters' professional athlete arm candy, he gets hated on constantly. But occasionally he manages to come off as a sweet/nice guy who genuinely cares about Kourtney. This side of Scott has been shown more now that there's a baby in the picture (minus that horrible drunken Vegas season finale - ugh that was terrible). A few moments caught on camera prove that he does have redeeming boyfriend qualities and another (slightly less douchey) side to him. But without "witnessing" this yourself, you would probably never believe it. AKA how I felt last season.

So if you're friend is dating a guy who you think of as a Scott, remember that he must have another side to him too if you're friend loves him. It's not your job to be his biggest fan, just know there's another side to the story.

And, since I know we all have super short attention spans because we were raised on TV and Crack (oh I meant sugar, not real crack in case you were curious, because even though I went to public school and rode the school bus I was not raised in the ghetto), I will remind you again that you control the message about your own BF. No, you don't need to Twitter a daily looove montage recap about your happiness, but occasionally praising the sweet thing your beau did for you in front of your friends will help them know why you're with him.

Oh that reminds me, in a gallant effort that spanned multiple stores in the West Village, J managed to track down a Reese's Dark Chocolate peanut butter cup for me since he knows how much I've wanted to try this pinnacle of perfection. See, what a sweet BF. And, see food really is the way to my heart.

Blame it on the Rain (The BFF's Fav Story)

The weather is currently an awesome mixture of rain and snow; no doubt it's going to be a slushy commute home. While the actual precipitation is annoying, there's nothing worse than the unavoidable "curb moats" and puddles that form everywhere in the city. Even if you're smart enough to be sporting the proper, water-repelling footwear, it can still be hard to avoid getting splashed.

In honor of the shitty weather, and in an effort to make The BFF smile while she's busy/stressed with work this week, I will share with you my ultimate Bridget Jones' moment:

The summer after moving here - finally acclimated and feeling confident in my ability to own this city - I went to the gym on a rainy Saturday. On my way back to the subway station after working out, I eagerly edged my way to the corner of the street while waiting for the light to tell me I could cross. Way too eager. And definitely not taking into proper account the giant puddle that was directly in front of me. It's like I'd unknowingly taken a seat in the Splash Zone at Sea World (what, too soon?). Not that the driver maliciously drove through that puddle or anything, but I stood there as an easy target. Novice.

BAM. Before I knew what was happening, a wall of water had hit me, and I was instantly (even more) soaked than before  - and even more miserable. Thank God I was only in gym clothes and not on my way to work, seeing as how my body was covered in dirrrty city water. So gross.

I waited - since the light had still not changed yet - and briefly locked eyes with a woman on the opposite side of the street who had witnessed the entire embarassing incident. She shook her head in acknowledgement of my predicament, almost as if I could hear her saying, "Dude, that sucks."

And in that next split second while I stood there still in shock, another car ran through THE SAME PUDDLE.

BAM. Instant replay. Entirely soaked again. It was like a bad RomCom, only without the promise of ending up with Colin Firth.

This would only happen to me. Or Bridget Jones.

Guest Rant: The (S) Situation Analysis

[Editor's note: The following comes from a close guy friend of S - she dominates in the guy friend category - proving that: a) So many people want her to be happy (not just me), and b) These other people involved suuuuuck and don't deserve her friendship. Read my advice for her from yesterday if you haven't yet. Also, the author of this post thought I was "goth" in high school, which could not have been farther from the truth even though I like to dye my hair darker brown (when I can't afford being blonde). That's not relevant, but I would just like to throw that connection out there. Update: S just reminded me that in the scrapbook I made for her of our joint Sweet 16th Bday, I put a pic of this guest post writer sitting on the mailbox with the caption, "I think your mailbox just got hotter." Haa haa, no I did not remember that, S, but it was a legit statement.]

While I may not be an 'avid' follower of this blog, I do read it from time to time. (And always enjoy it when I do). This particular post has a special significance to me because "S" is a very near and dear friend of mine and as such, I have intimate knowledge of this rather frustrating situation.

I love S to death and want to be able to put forth an analysis to help articulate why she should “stop caring.”

So, High School Boyfriend 2.0 or as I have dubbed him, “Douche Mover” (because, well, he has a history of pulling just douche moves) didn’t JUST break up with S for some bogus reason. That’s only the tip of iceberg. Shortly thereafter, he hooked up with a friend of S right in front of her. Douche move. He also had a nice little habit of describing the details of his many dates to S. You know, sometimes after a break-up there’s a period of time when the ex-couple still have lingering feelings towards each other. This usually goes away with time or because of some other less fortunate means. Well, during that “lingering feelings period,” this guy REALLY liked to make all of his escapades with other girls blatantly obvious to her. This was where the majority of the conflict and hurt feelings stemmed from IMHO because frankly, this happened A LOT. I’m not saying he’s wrong for getting out there and dating around but seriously, he should have had a little tact. Douche move. There were also several instances within their “professional relationship”- which I won’t get into due to their sensitive nature- that supported the appropriateness of his “Douche Mover” title. Let’s just say, this guy has no idea about the concept of reciprocity.

And finally, the coup de grace: this whole business with “dumb slut girl.” There are several important features of this story that were overlooked: for one, “dumb slut girl”- or just DSG- was a good friend of S and went to visit S at law school. This visit was the definitive “girl’s weekend;” nothing but good ole’ fun between two girlfriends. Long story short, Douche Mover stayed true to his nature and tried time and time again to hook up with DSG without any regard for S or her feelings. No surprise there. But what REALLY irritated me (and S) was how DSG flew across the country with the intention to spend time with her friend and ended up taking MORE of an interest in Douche Mover. Oh, and it gets worse.

Now imagine you’re in S’ position: you KNOW Douche Mover has a history of just basically being an inconsiderate asshole. You don’t want to fall victim to him hurting you again by blatantly hooking up with one of your friends in front of you. But also, DSG is your friend; you want to look out for her and not see HER get hurt. That’s right, despite how painful it would be to see your friend get involved with the guy you still have feelings for, you’re willing to put that tiny little fact aside and focus instead on making sure she doesn’t get hurt.

DSG is so self-involved that she is completely incapable of seeing the big picture. S, trying to be a good friend, conveyed to DSG her side of the issue: S still had feelings for Douche Mover and it would upset her if he and DSG continued anything; however, even if that WASN’T the case, it would still upset her if he and DSG continued anything because of her fear of DSG going through the same thing she did when she dated Douche Mover. Of course, being stupid and selfish, DSG only focused on how S “didn’t want her to be happy” or some crap. From my point of view, it just seems ridiculous that DSG is willing to sacrifice S’ happiness to get what she wants. Now, I understand one might be tempted to say, “But what if their relationship works out and they end up really happy??” Please. All evidence to the contrary. I’m not saying they don’t deserve a chance to try, I just think it’s completely and utterly wrong to do so at the expense of a friend’s happiness.

Remember how I said it gets worse? I wasn’t lying. The real shit-bomb occurred when S found out Douche Mover went ahead and bought a plane ticket to fly halfway across the country to visit DSG for Spring Break. That’s right. After all the drama between the two girls in which S repeatedly told DSG that this whole situation was really hurting her feelings, DSG has no problem with him visiting her- in fact, she encouraged it. And when I say, “DSG has no problem” it’s more that she just doesn’t see their actions AS a problem. Again, she’s selfish… and dumb-- like, really dumb.

This situation is made all the worse because DSG has a deep history of doing crappy things like this-- similar to the history of Douche Mover’s douche moves. I’m not joking; this girl has ruined friendships, ruined relationships, caused more than her fair share of drama, and created or exacerbated conflict upon conflict. What’s the WORST part about it, though? She does all this without the slightest acknowledgement that any of her actions are wrong. She honestly believes that instead of her altering her hurtful behavior, others just shouldn’t view her behavior as hurtful. Think of your own personal quintessential definition of a ditz… Then multiply it by, I don’t know, a hundred?

The truth is, S is too nice. And that’s terribly unfortunate. Several times throughout our discussions over this issue she asked me, “Why am I so nice?” Upon further reflection it doesn’t matter why she’s so nice; what matters (to me, at least) is why someone who is so nice has been pushed to the brink of regretting being the decent, caring individual she is by others who- to borrow the phrase- don’t deserve to breathe the same oxygen as her? Honestly, it really pisses me off that two people who are both well-educated, perfectly rational human beings can have such a blatant disregard for someone as sweet and likeable as her. They just flat-out don’t care.

I really don’t want her to ever question herself like that again; not for the sake of people like that. She has told me several times before that she’s looking for a relationship. (Whether or not she’d want me to touch on this I can’t say for sure, but doing so helps me make a valid point). I understand that people tend to reach a period in their mid to late 20’s where they start looking for something more meaningful, long-term, permanent- whatever you want to call it. It’s certainly a mature decision, but I always find myself giving her the same advice: don’t be in a rush. And it’s true, she shouldn’t settle. Hell, no one should. I’m certainly not one to give relationship/dating advice, I’ll leave that to Rachel. But, to S, my point is pretty much the same as hers: you can’t let yourself care about this - about people who clearly don’t care about you.

Thanks for the great analysis! I'm all for holding on to old friends, but weed out the crappy ones that only bring baby mama drama. Life's too short.

Advice for a Friend: STOP CARING.

The BFF and I have another friend we've known since middle school - we shall call her S - a third amigo, musketeer, etc., who currently (sadly) lives half way across the country while attending law school. Last night she called me for my "sage dating wisdom," and after talking for a little bit, I had to get off the phone in order to salvage my dinner in the oven, but I promised to call her back. Then I got sidetracked by eating, showering, seeing something shiny, followed by The BFF gashing her finger while cooking. Having just watched a contestant on competitive food porn show Chopped do this, I quickly helped her bandage it back up so she could finish the meal in record time. Seriously, this Food Network addiction is intense.

So, that is a long way of saying "S, I'm sorry for not calling you back."

I also decided that I needed to write this in bold print so she can read it and re-read it if necessary:

MAKE YOURSELF STOP CARING. HE SUCKS.

You see, the big downfall of S is that she's too freakin' nice. You ask, "Can that be a problem?" Yes, yes it can be when you allow unworthy people to take advantage of your generosity and awesomeness. Case in point, S was involved with someone - who people might describe as a "loser" - on and off all through high school (and, let's be honest, part of college). While deep-down inside he is a nice person, he did not deserve 1/1000th of the kindness she showed him. At one point I got so enraged by their relationship that I lectured him that he "did not deserve to breathe the same oxygen as her." I don't really know what oxygen he should be breathing, but not hers, so whatever not my problem.

Fast forward past additional guys who I could have also given the same lecture to, and then we reach High School Boyfriend 2.0, the guy she briefly dated last summer. The BFF and I met him while on a trip to visit her, and wow we were shocked that she managed to find the same guy AGAIN! In a different state! (He only gets the 2.0 label because he is enrolled in law school, and not working as a waiter slash boat driver.) Nooooooo, you're smarter than that, S!!! You're better than that. And you're going to be a lawyer!

Anyway, he ended things with her because he sucks (I'm not just saying that as a judgy friend, it is based on multiple accounts from others too), but they're forced to continue interacting because they work and have classes together.

She is upset because he has been semi-secretly talking to one of her friends - who happens to have a poor track record for being a dumb, well for a lack of a better word, slut - and now they're allegedly "getting serious." While S is over him, she doesn't have another source for her emotional energy therefore this has upset her.

I REPEAT: YOU CAN'T LET YOURSELF CARE ABOUT THIS.

While I've definitely had some serious CGS moments in my life, I truly believe that ever since defeating the biggest source of CGS in my life - the HS Crush - junior year of high school, I've been way better than I could have been.

HS Crush was a source of flirtation irritation. One second he would pay attention to me (typically the second I got a boyfriend), the next minute he would ignore me (the minute I was single and ready for something to happen). It was a vicious cycle that tested my patience to the millionth degree. Even though we were friends, I knew he had to become "dead" to me in order to get over him and move on.

And, sweet S, that's what you have to do too. I know, I know, you cannot avoid him, but for the 1,000th time - CUT HIM OFF. Don't let him take advantage of your friendship because it will only upset you. Don't be rude, just become indifferent.

Yes, this won't happen over night, but if you start acting indifferent it will eventually lead to you becoming indifferent, wherein you will stop caring about this jackass and be happier.

You will find someone who truly deserves you (or maybe you already have, cough cough, you know who I'm talking about.) But in the meantime, stop mentally and emotionally exhausting yourself over this situation because it will get you nowhere. And you have more important things to worry about, like for instance, planning a trip to visit our new, awesome apartment in New York.
Love,
Rach

P dot S - A story that has no real point but I cannot stop myself from sharing:

S had a cat in Austin and procured another when she moved. The BFF and I could not - for all the money in the world - remember the new cat's name before we went to visit.

The BFF: "I think her name is Mrs. Beatrice."

Me: "That is 100% not her name."

The BFF: "Are you sure? I really think it could be."

We later found out that the cat's name was in fact, not Mrs. Beatrice. It was Stimpy. And she is, allegedly, a he.

But, after meeting the cat, we found this totally unfitting (and unacceptable).

Forever on, her name is Mrs. B. And she's very photogenic.

Superior cat photography brought to you by the talented BFF. Please inquire within about any pet photographic needs you might have - her rates are very reasonable as this is her passion.

Every City Girl Ever is Ready for Spring!

[Editor's note: Awhile ago I ran the Every Girl Ever (is Crazy) post. After a recent brunch discussion with J and his friend about how "all girls like ... ", I decided to write my own Every City Girl Ever. Please leave other Every Girl Ever's I left out in comments! :) ]

Like Every girl ever, I've been sporting my knee-length down coat for the past few months. It's like my little Elie Tahari cocoon. Winter is the Ugly Season. Sure I might still get cat-calls and whistles while I'm walking down the block, but how do you know I'm cute if I'm bundled up in 75 layers, random guy? Are you just assuming...or *gasp* pretending? Wait, do you just do that to every girl that passes? I'm a little upset about this faux enthusiasm for my beauty. Oh well. Soon enough you will see that I am! Like Every girl ever, I am very humble about my cuteness.

Also, like Every girl ever, I cannot wait for Spring! In a few months, I will emerge as a Forever 21-sundress-clad butterfly. You see, like Every girl ever, I know that when it comes to cutesy outfits, it's quantity over quality - I can't be wearing the same thing in every upcoming Facebook pic, now can I?  Shh don't tell 'cause I will of course let others assume it was way more 'spensy. I'm not the only girl who plays this game, I assure you.

Along with Every girl ever, I will start purchasing the aforementioned warm weather ensembles pronto. Yes, the calendar might still say it's cold cold cold, but retail stores say buy buy buy. And it was just Fashion Week, so it's totally fine - we're inspired. And we love trends! When it comes to trends, my boyfriend is wrong, celebrities are right! Who cares if they're ugly, who cares if in two months I will be ashamed I bought an entire bottle of taupe nail polish or a dress with shoulder pads. Girl Hot is way more important than Guy Hot! Unless you're single, in which case you should just dress like a whore. Just kidding, Every girl ever will judge you, skank!

Like Every girl ever, I will also be entranced by adorable shoes that I know will destroy my feet. While I understand that one second sporting them will equal hours upon hours of uncontrollable pain, I race to buy them as fast as possible. Like Every girl ever, I'm a foot masochist. Beauty is Pain for a reason, duh.

While we try and be oh so cute hobbling around in our sex-ay, open-toed shoes, like Ever girl ever, I still schlep all of my personal belongings in my black Longchamp bag everywhere I go. Every girl ever has one, so who cares if it looks like I'm Mary Poppins. Why do I insist on lugging a purse full of mini-sized non-necessities with me? It doesn't matter, because one time I might need that back-up lip gloss I keep hidden for emergencies. Or the spare gum. Or that tape measure I needed two months ago. But like a boy scout or something, I'm Always Being Prepared. And, no, it doesn't matter that I could just drop into any of the 1,000,000 drugstores on every block to pick up something I need.

After a long day of schlepping and preparing for spring, my favorite snack is Greek yogurt just like Every girl ever! It's so healthy! It's just like icecream! Well, if ice cream were full of protein. And tasted like yogurt. Maybe you could trick yourself into thinking it was ice cream if you squint a lot and punch yourself in the brain while you eat it. The other day I realized I could put frozen fruit and other toppings in my yogurt and then mix it all up. Why has no one ever thought of this? It's so yummy and inventive! Every girl ever should be proud of me. Oh right, they already sell yogurt with fruit in it. It's still awesome, though, and I'm still a genius!

Like Every girl ever, I totally think leggings can be a substitute for regular pants. Every girl ever knows that while they may not be the most flattering choice, they are so comfortable! Every girl ever also knows that what we all really hope for - the opportunity for sweatpants to be fashionably acceptable - is probably never going to happen, so we might as well milk the legging glory for all their elastic worth. Plus you can wear them everywhere - the gym, brunch, work! Multipurpose, my fav!

Today it's raining, and like Every girl ever, I'm clonking around in my rainboots. Unlike Every girl ever, I do not own a pair of Hunter boots, so therefore I hate the rain 'cause I feel left out. Instead, like Every other girl ever, I still have the first pair of rainboots I bought when I came to the city, you know, the brightly colored ones with little designs all over them. Like every girl ever, I still love my sorority even though I'm so old, so mine are covered with fleur de lis. Like Every girl ever, I hope that one day a "sister" will approach me about these, and then we'll become best friends! I'm still waiting.

Like Every girl ever, I loved college. Now, though, I realize I'm never going to get to go to another Frat theme party. Of course, like Every girl ever, this makes me sad and also motivated to throw myself a theme party soon. Hmm, what is a unique way to dress slutty?

Like Every girl ever I will write all of my ideas down in my day planner or my Moleskin notebook. Because, obviously organization is super important to Every girl ever! I'm like, so detail-oriented and Type A!!

Oh that reminds me, I gotta run and watch a marathon of Keeping Up With the Kardashians! What carazy stuff is happening with my fav reality fam this week? Oh wait, I've seen all the episodes! And I follow the entire family on Twitter! Like Every girl ever, I love low-brow celebrity entertainment and watching the same crap over and over again! And I'm only mildly ashamed!

xoxo

Every Girl Ever

The Psycho Roommate Diet

So after my eating mea culpa last week, it's clear I have some real issues with food, but so do a lot of people I know. Whatever. Anyway, I alluded to the fact that I've gained some weight since I'm no longer living with the motivational inspiration of dos Psycho Roommates, and so I might as well share the story, if for nothing else than to make you feel better about your own life.

Without having to get into the lengthy, dramatic back story detailing out the roller coaster living situation that scarred The BFF and me for two years, here is a (sort of brief) synopsis to bring everyone up to speed:

The BFF and I found a sweet apartment after moving here two years ago, and then we found two randos from Craigslist to fill the other bedrooms. While there were a few other roommates transitioned in there for one reason or another, for the bulk of the first year we lived with Kris (named changed to a more hilariously feminine spelling), who was the most disgustingly filthy and lazy roommate ever. The other was Brandi, an "actress with a day job" who had just broken up with her live-in boyfriend of five years. I clearly remember The BFF wondering if she could potentially have some, err, issues. The BFF was right, to put it mildly.

Kris moved out a month before our lease was up, and the three of us decided we wanted to stay (or, more accurately, did not want to hassle with or pay for moving - especially since it was in the smack middle of The World is Ending Financial Apocalypse). While Brandi had proved "difficult" to live with, we hoped that without Kris, things would improve. Ha haa, rose colored glasses FAIL.

Craigslist once again helped us procure a new roommate, this time we happened to find another girl from Texas, moving up north to Live the Dream. I was super excited since that had been us, literally one year before, but unfortunately, I suck at the roommate vetting process. We didn't meet Ruby in person until she arrived, and well, she wasn't exactly what we pictured. First impressions included: Robert Pattinson obsession worse than a 12 year-old girl; inability to keep her stories straight (conversations about one guy led us to believe he had been her boyfriend, turns out he wasn't at all - would be shocked if he were real...) or one night she would pound shots and then the next night she would say she has 'never drank before;' she would endlessly watch and name-drop Meg Ryan circa 1995 movies, believing that was how Manhattan really was; and just a level of overall annoyance that made my brain cry out in pain. Seriously, I know IAAB, but I swear I really did try to make an effort, I just realized sooner rather than later that - for my mental health in particular - I could not be BFFs with her.  

Luckily though, for her sake, she and Brandi randomly did become BFF. Brandi, who had a temperament where she found it acceptable to regularly cuss out every person she interfaced with due to them somehow purposefully doing a poor job/inconveniencing slash ruining her life, was definitely not who I would expect to take Ruby under her wing, but shockingly, she did. This alliance ended up pitting the two groups (me and The BFF) and the Psychofaces against each other for a better part of the 12 months, but I guess it was somehow better than Ruby constantly sulking creepily in the living room (don't worry, there was still plenty of that too).

Okay, that was still a pretty long build-up to the actual purpose of this post, but believe me, I could have gone into way more detail. Painful detail.

Here is my point: during that time, I was in the best shape of my life. I went to the gym almost every day; I'd discovered this crazy diet plan called "Don't eat two dinners every night" - I know, you'd never think of that being a solution, right?!; and I would walk home from the gym/work nightly (an additional 30 minutes of cardio). All in all, I was dominating. Circumstances, etc. have changed since then, unfortunately.

Oh, also being roommates with The BFF is like living with my own personal eating parole officer. Having grown up in a household that did not have an endless supply of crappy packaged snacks, she has always been way healthier (and thinner) than me. She doesn't allow herself to mindlessly graze, and so - as opposed to when I lived in the most amazing sorority house ever with two chefs and friends who also loved snacking, ultimately gaining 10 pounds of memories - I actually lost weight by learning from her tactics.

But even all of those factors combined could not prove as effective as the Psycho Roommate Diet.

The first ultimate incentive to be skinny came from witnessing and listening to Brandi and Ruby (oh God I still have flashbacks to the sound of their voices - worse than nails on a chalkboard  - and so unnecessarily loud)'s laughable discussions about their impending "diets." There is no better diet than listening to two people talk about their diets only to then witness (and judge) them for ordering enough fatty delivery in one night at 11pm that could have fed a small village for a week. Or hearing two "dieters" talk about how much they were going to binge on their "cheat days." This conversation, mind you, would take place before any actual dieting had yet to commence.

When Brandi first moved in, she was fairly thin, but eventually fell into a two-month-long Big Mac Value Meal dinner bender that *shockingly* caused all of her pants to stop fitting. It was sort of like living with Morgan Spurlock. Once Ruby moved in, things only got worse for her. It was like they just wanted to sabotage each other's attempts at healthiness.

One of my favorite stories from the Bad Old Days is when Brandi went on and on about how she was doing the Master Cleanse. Much like with everything, it was very dramatic. Day one: insufferable. Day two: more insufferable. Day three: Outback Steak House. Wait, you didn't know the Day Three tradition of switching from the syrup-cayenne pepper-lemon water to the Bloomin' Onion??

Shockingly, the diet didn't work. Neither did their 10 minute "cardio" walks to Walgreens to purchase rolls of cookie dough diet.

IAAB x 1000.

Just by the shear annoyance level - and, of course, the motivation of superiority - I ate healthier and smaller serving sizes (or I guess you would refer to them as "accurate") if only to be better than them.

The second part of the Psycho Roommate Diet was the physical pain The BFF and I suffered just being in their presence - aka our living room slash kitchen where they always were. It caused us to have to really justify the need to leave our room for nutritional supplies. There were nights when The BFF wouldn't even want to order food just because she would have to leave our sanctuary and face the crazies when the delivery man arrived. The worst, though, was the ear pollution - which primarily came in the form of the acoustic versions of Umbrella. Over and over and over again. Walking into these "jam sessions" made food undesireable. Inedible even.

Times were tough.

But now, there are no longer any obstacles between me and my refrigerator, no more built-in incentives to be healthy without their mockable, eye-roll-inducing "diet" discussions. Now I'm forced to rely on self-control and will power to watch what I eat as opposed to judgment and competitiveness.

Ugh.

Anyway, just to end things on a good note - and to make me realize that no matter how fat I get living in our new, awesome apartment, at least I don't have to dread receiving aggressive condiment emails - I leave you with this gem from Brandi:

"You guys know that I am not working and money is very tight for me. I am on a strict budget and part of this budget is food. I have purchased both hellman's mayonnaise and country crock butter in the past weeks. Hellman's once and country crock 3 times. I have only used my mayo maybe 3 times and the butter about the same.

At first I thought maybe you thought it was communal. So I labeled them with my name. Haven't looked at them in a while but recently did so, and whomever used the mayo (seeing the label and ignoring it) left about 2 tablespoons and the butter-it was empty! I would appreciate 2 things-whomever used nearly all of my stuff-please replace it with the same size/brand etc. And 2: from here on out, if something is labeled, or, if you didn't buy it-don't use it! If you are in a bind or need to use something that is mine-just ask! I just cannot continue to shell out funds for stuff that I haven't even used."

Thanks,

B.

.· ´¨¨)) -:¦:-

¸.·´ .·´¨¨))

((¸¸.·´ ..·´ Brandi
-:¦:- ((¸¸.·´*
 
(P dot S, that was her actually swirley signature line. She's almost 30.)
 
My response: "FYI - I only cook with olive oil and I have my own mayonnaise (whole foods omega). Alex hasnt used either also since she's being a Vegan. I am more than happy to respect labeling, it makes it easier for me to know whats mine and visa versa."
 
That did not satisfy her, however, because she responded:"Then who the hell used it all? I guess it just disappeared on it's own, huh? Who puts an empty container that belongs to someone else back in the fridge??"

The only thing I wanted to write back was, "Neither of us have used them. Perhaps you should check with the scale."
 
But I didn't because I am the bigger person. Well, not literally. Zing.

My Relationship with Food

As I began writing about how I've gained weight living in my new, awesome apartment due to lack of psycho roommates (which I will write soon), I realized that my love for food deserved its own blog post. Well, actually it needs its own confession. Because eating is my everything. Wow, issues much? I'm just kidding, sort of. But really, eating is my favorite activity, and food really is one of my biggest interests. (No, it does not say that on my Facebook profile because I only blog about being a fatass, I don't need Mark Zuckerberg knowing too. Or my 1,200+ FB friends - do not judge, Facebook started when I was a freshman in college, I promise I only have like three friends in real life).

So today, inspired by Tiger's non-press conference fessing up to his own personal issues, I would like to announce:

My name is Rachel, and I'm a food addict.

(You see, by choosing to say it with those words - instead of just saying "I'm a huge fatass" - instills a sort of sympathy for me, kind of like saying you're a sex addict because you were a horny/rich/famous philanderer who was made to feel like rules didn't apply to him. I digress.)

But even though I will admit to these demons, I will not be entering into some sort of rehab (even though that is so the thing to do these days). You see, I choose to work out non-life-threatening issues on my own, and I won't use rehab as blanket redemption for my problems. While I really do have actual dependencies with food (e.g. bored eating, stressed eating, celebratory eating, etc.), unlike most substance addictions, I clearly cannot just stop eating altogether. 'Cause I would die, since, you know, you need food to live. And that wouldn't solve my problems with food, now would it? And no, consuming liquid nutrients to stay alive sounds worse than actual death, so if I couldn't eat, I think I would rather just go ahead and end things for good. Err, dramatic much?

This should be no surprise to you, though, if you've met me, or spent 1 second reading this blog, since you quickly learn that food is the numero uno way into my heart. Co-workers have realized this and since feed me like a pet squirrel or something. While my inability to turn down free food is border-line pathetic, it is a delicious perk of going to work.

Comparing my tendencies to others' battles with their own demons, my foodie desires and conquests tend to be more upscale, fine dining (as opposed to skanky Vegas whores). It's not just the act of eating I love, I tend to find myself watching food porn - whether it be instructional (Barefoot Contessa - Ina Garten, I love you) or pleasure-filled (Best Thing I Ever Ate) - or reading food porn (NY Mag Grub Street). And when it comes to the actual act, I lurve trying new restaurants, dining at my old-faithful places, cooking gourmet food, ordering-in crappy food - I can go on and on, but I think you get the point.

Luckily, though, I have refined my palate and developed a healthy addiction to vegetables. Although, don't get me wrong, put me in any scenario that involves the possibility of onion rings (okay, any fried food), and I will bow down before them like a crack addict to his dealer. Is that sad?

My relationship with food, though, is more than just an obsession; it is part of my genetic makeup. It is in my genes, and, well, now it's in my jeans, if you know what I mean. I was blessed/cursed with the hereditary ability to consume inhuman amounts of food (I assure you it comes from my father's side of the family). And I was raised to be an aggressive eater. I don't really know what that means, but it's obviously a very sex-ay visual. Unfortunately, this tendency has led me to believe I could turn my aggression into competition and always makes me inclined to think that I could possibly take part in certain over-the-top glutton-fests portrayed on Man vs. Food (low-brow food porn). That is, of course, until J reminds me that no one actually wins in an eating competition.

He's probably right.

I don't really know the purpose of this post - kind of like no one really knows the point of Tiger's press conference today - other than the fact that I clearly have a lot of issues, I'm admitting to them, and I'm working on becoming a better eater.