Online Dating: Take Two (hundred million thousand fifty)

You would think that after the horror stories of my dating life I would know better by now but I continually believe that there has to be someone out there for me and I can’t help but remain optimistic DESPITE my better judgement.  This is a good and bad thing- good in that I have endless embarrassing stories that my poor friends are forced to hear about all goddamn day and bad because THIS IS REAL LIFE AND I HAVE TO LIVE THIS AND ACTUALLY BE ON THESE DATES. It’s one thing to hear about a bad date or watch one on TV but it is quite another story when you are sitting across from someone who is regaling you about the time they got in a fist fight and almost broke their ex-girlfriends nose with a cell phone. After initially worrying for my safety and searching for my mace I realized it mayyyyy be time for a little online dating break.

This is classic me.  I get all hopped up on adrenaline and hope and power through several dates for a few months then I get burnt out and depressed while I sit in the fetal position under my desk questioning my life choices. Here are some things I’ve learned about myself and the dating game in my ahem..30's...(ugh) Pay attention people! 

1) Planning – WHY IS THIS SO DIFFICULT for people in general? Set a time and date and stick to it. Ideally I would like to know on Monday or Tuesday if we are hanging out that weekend. Does that seem crazy and high maintenance? I’m genuinely asking (for a friend). Like is it too much that you give me a heads up so I can properly plan my life? 

2) Show up. You would be amaaaaaaazed how many dates I had planned where the guy genuinely didn’t respond the day of our already set date and then I just never heard from them again. THANK GOD I never went to the actual places and waited like some dumb sap, but it was very likely that I could of! Word to the wise… be sure you have day-of-confirmation.

3) Make a decision. YOU choose where we are going. You figure out a fucking place. Man up. If I tell you I live in Laguna Niguel and work in Irvine – I can name 40 places right now that would work. So you choose one and stick to it. Let’s not go back and forth with “Hey,” texts for days because I CAN’T.  Hey yourself and fuck yourself and lets just rip that band aid and see if there is a shred of chemistry because why am I wasting my witty banter on some toad.

4)“2 drink max” is for real a legit thing and it absolutely blows. I know this is a Patti Stanger original and I never wanted to get on board but she is so friggin’ right. My girlfriend made me stick to it when she was ghost writing for me on a site called zoosk, so I figured I at least owed it to her to stay somewhat sober on these things so I could actually gage who and what these guys were about. I can literally talk to anyyyyyyyone and evvvvvveryone is remotely cute to me after 3 drinks so I had to keep my wits about me. It was painful and unfortunate but I found out after 2 or 3 dates if I liked the guy or not. And I would have wasted a lot of time with some real losers if I was drinking any more than I already do (which is a lot)  

5) Fuck coffee dates – this is kinda true, ok actually not entirely true. I had a good coffee date with an ex-baseball player – but that was only because we went walking on the beach after but then he turned out to be insane and he made me order a piece of cheesecake FOR HIS MOTHER TO-GO and he made me stop at Sports Authority because they were having a sale and he needed SNEAKERS and GYM WEAR, and kept asking me to go back to his dad’s BOAT. Needless to say, nothing good comes from a coffee date.

6) Don’t ask me to send you a fucking pic EVER until we have established we are in a relationship  and even then it should be a rare, fun sexy pic to spice things up, not a SELFIE in broad daylight, What is the point? This is a real thing that happened.... Started texting with a guy, he said "good morning beautiful" (also never say that ever) and I said hi back and he said "may I have a pic of you" then he sent a selfie of himself (gross) But he was cute so I genuinely asked him, do people just catfish on this all day? There are like 5 photos of me on my bumble profile, And he said "Well for me I'm a very visual person so I will probably ask more than once" (Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaay) and he said yes people catfish. So i took a dreaded selfie which i NEVER normally do, I'm actually the most terrible at them in all the world. Things were fine and actually seemed somewhat normal. Until today when he said "hi, how's your day, may I see your pretty face?" YOU JUST SAW IT YESSSSSSTERDAY, it's still the same buddy. You will see me later (or you won't) but what creepy things are you doing where you need a pic a day. I responded with, I'm honestly not comfortable sending any more pics at this point until we meet up and if I actually like you. RADIO SILENCE. Like i will never heard from him again which is fine considering he is probably some psycho collecting girls' selfie photos all day and sewing a dress made out of skin. 

7) I certainly don’t want a selfie of you…. maybe ever.  Same goes for dick pics but that should be self-explanatory -those are strictly for gay dating apps and craigslist.

That's all I have for right now. I'm taking a much needed break from this hellhole. Stay tuned. 

Working title...

I couldn’t decide on a title so here are a few working ones:

• ·         The Fat Girls Guide to not looking (and feeling) like a piece of garbage.
• ·         A How-To guide for the girl that emotionally eats
• ·         Becoming the girl I hate
• ·         Is life even fun without food?

First let me just recap my Grit Cycle class this morning at 7AM. *Note: this would have never happened and I would have laughed at you (then smacked you) if you told me to take this class. I walk in and immediately say out loud to my impossibly skinny and beautiful younger sister (who works really fucking hard at it and basically eats nothing and is sober so count me out right there) “Jesus, these people are so intense and like lovvvve to cycle, oh god (eye rolls for days)." I thought the Costa Mesa location and the title “Grit Cycle” might be filled with more salt of the earth people if you will-- a little less Newport Beach and certainly not “Soul Cycle.” I don’t need anyone telling me to “reach your dreams!” and “believe in yourself!” at 7am. I don’t start believing in myself until at least 9 thank you very much! I need loud music and darkness. And I got that at Grit.

We went to our bikes and I noticed the male instructor is sitting next to what looks like a runway model up in the front showing everyone what to do. Her name, we later learn, is Chanel – of course it is. Her HAIR WAS DOWN, she was wearing just a sports bra (which those of you who know me know this is a cardinal sin) not a drop of sweat while I’m over here in a Michael Phelps Olympic-size pool of sweat around my drowning bike—mind you the class has not started yet.

At one point the lights were turned down low and I looked up and everything looked super blurry and I thought this is it, I’m gonna faint and my upper body is going to collapse over the side of my bike while my feet are still clipped in and I’ll look like a fat version of those blow up “Air Dancers” at the car dealership when they get deflated. I then realized it was just the room steaming up and there was fog on the mirror, I was fine, I’m not dying (Fuck, that means I need to keep pedaling.)

The music was bumping (yah I said bumping) and Chanel was entrancing me with her abs and I found myself working harder and really pushing myself. Also, the fact that this class was $22 I was going to get my money’s worth and work my legs into oblivion. For those of you who say “it’s like being in a club” I would say that’s a HARD NO and it would be like a club if you enjoy clubs where you want to die and you’re in a lot of pain and there’s no drinking or dancing. Thank god for those brief moments in between death where they turn the lights all the way off so you can be alone in your shame while you frantically breathe for 30 seconds and look around the room looking for a sane friend who understands this is totally nuts right—only no one is that friend. And you’re alone again.

 Despite all of it I have to say I left that class feeling strong as fuck and I’m not sure if it was the class or the Stumptown cold brew I treated myself to after that has me fucking AMPED (as I’m furiously typing this and tapping my feet and listening to Pandora dubstep and basically losing my miiiiind) I think it’s more of the fact that I’m doing things out of my comfort zone and you don’t realize how strong your body is, like the fact that I’m still alive truly astounds me.  With that in mind I move on to my next topic. One I hold near and dear to my heart. Food.

Let me begin with a short embarrassing background. I’m the girl who lived for McDonalds. Many of my loved ones knew my standard order: 2 Plain McDoubles (which is a total of 4 horrifying patties for you mathematicians out there) a large fry, a large coke, and maybe a 6 pc chicken nugget depending on how hungover I was, or it could be a well-lit afternoon and I was completely sober, which is even more upsetting to some. I was known to purchase a tub (yes tub) of Cheeto balls at the local CVS, and bacon and egg and cheese bagels were my go-to “snack.” My meals consisted of bread and cheese and the colors were usually white, yellow, orange or a combination of all three.  A rare glimpse into my life is an unforgettable tale of me heading to the drive thru of one said McDonald’s where the employee commented, “you come here a lot, and you’re always wearing black.” I would like to say that that is where it all stopped, but I cannot. The only thing that changed was which location I began to frequent.

One evening I literally woke up at 3AM (Satan’s hour apparently) It could have been my clogged arteries but my heart was pounding and I started to cry. I just wasn’t happy anymore, it wasn’t funny anymore and I didn’t feel good in my body. I called an angel from heaven, a nutritionist and friend Heather and just cried. I said, I will be your toughest client, I hate salads and anything with vegetables, I eat for comfort and celebration and sadness and food is my friend. It’s what I look forward to. HELP! God bless her for the rest of eternity. This woman taught (and is still teaching) me a million things and one of which is how to change the way I think about food and the way I was living. I really was trapped in a prison of denial and shielding myself from the dirty awful truth that it was time for a change.  I would tell myself over and over that donut is worth being fat. That pint of ice cream was the quickest form of instant gratification. Nothing could compare to those first few bites.

UNTIL I tried this new lifestyle-- I too hate the word lifestyle. I should just say new way of living. I nevvvvvvvver would have thought I would be a basic bitch at a cycle class looking forward to making my protein style burger and parsnip fries and an Epsom salt bath on a Friday night. But I am. That’s me now. Without realizing it I started to work through shit without the crutch of food. What is there to look forward to if not a greasy meal that made me feel like shit immediately after shoveling it in my mouth? I had to do some deep searching and sit quietly with my own horrific thoughts and be honest with myself. What do I want? Don’t I deserve to feel good in my own skin? Can I still be funny and fun and not “that girl” who has an awful confusing “gluten-free” order at a restaurant. I always hated that girl, and I’m now starting to realize that that girl is fucking smart because she’s able to order what she wants – eat things that taste good but still fit into pants and look good in a bikini and not be self-conscious. I want to be that girl! And I’m becoming that girl. Also what’s scary is, and I’m misquoting it for sure but I read somewhere when we become physically smaller we are actually more visible to those around us. I am on display and getting compliments is weird and tricky for me.  I still have a long way to go so any little comments I just say thanks and move on quickly because I don’t want to give up and I want to keep going! Also, this time around I’m focused on how I feel, not what I look like. Which you hear a million times a day from idiots like me but it doesn’t quite sink in until you actually have energy, and your skin is glowing and people start to just notice little changes.

And haters gonna hate but one thing I can say, and I’m quoting Kathryn Edwards from the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, “it’s hard work bitch.” At least 8 times a day I have to say “no thanks” or “I’m good.” And you will get comments from your friends, thank god I have good ones who were mainly already all healthy anyway and I really am the last one to show up to this health kick party. But of course coming from the girl who lived on quesadillas it’s going to sound strange when I ask our server if they have any organic red wine.  But soon people start to cheer you on and say good job and I’m so proud of you. And those are the comments I live for and I say them to myself every morning. Yes, I have to bring meals to work I have to cook and do lots of dishes and I do something physical evvvvery day. Like even when I want to die and sit on my ass there’s some stupid voice now telling me you will sleep so much better and feel so much better and it’s a beautiful day even if it’s just a 30 min walk. FUCK THAT VOICE, we have a love/hate relationship.  But in the end, and it’s so not the end, I gave myself a year to test out this whole, “is life really a lot better when you eat healthy and work out and take care of yourself” craze. So far it really is. (and I'm still catching myself saying "gross" even after writing that sentence, but it really is so shut up Tanya, embrace it you gorgeous fool!) 

Abstinence

I know what you're thinking... You're probably on the wrong website.... Maybe your html re-routed your server (or whatever "technical term" could go wrong trying to find my website, you know what I mean!) This can't possibly be the same girl that once regaled us of her wild sexual escapades. Sadly, it's true my loyal band of merry followers. I have been abstaining from sex for one full year. Was this a choice you might be asking yourself? That remains to be seen.....I go back and forth between thinking this has been a conscious decision versus something that just happened because I had a good run and now I'm just hung the fuck out to dry and going to be alone for the rest of my life. I think I've come to the conclusion that it has, in fact, been my choice. It's a choice every time I went out to a bar and flirted with some slob who I once used for company; a way of making me feel attractive, sexy, and not alone forever. Now the idea of that seems so foreign to me- it's like I can't unlearn what I've learned about myself. I've seen beyond the curtain, the wizard is just a man with smoke and mirrors. I want love, not sex. Intimacy over hot one night stands. a real conversation and closeness over witty banter at a bar. Even as I write this it sounds nuts. Would I commit an act of terrorism for a hot one night stand? Probably. But I do think that with enough time these things tend to run their course--'been there done that' comes to mind. I'm ready and deserving of more (shocking I know).

Plus, to make myself feel better I began a running list of all the things that I am oh so grateful for and that are fucking awesome about not having sex...

-No worrisome trips to the gyno (I've put off like 4 different appointments in the last year) because... why?
-I don't have to wax or shave. Literally I have waxed twice for the occasion of a wedding and a vacation-both were on my terms and for my eyes only. Also I didn't want to horrify my friends (I think we all know the heinous crime committed by Miranda in the SATC movie.... and she wondered WHY Steve cheated on her)
-Total domination of bed space. Imagine a giant human size starfish lying face down in the sand. You will then understand why I'm thoroughly enjoying this for as long as i can.
-No red rashes on my chin and cheeks from a beard or stubble. The gift of a flawless complexion can sometimes outweigh even the most arousing orgasms.
-Sleep.... long, delicious, uninterrupted sleep. We've all been there-- and with a strange new man in the bedroom we never actually get any.
-Temperature control. How lovely to keep my covers on or off. Not to be sandwiched in a sheet burrito of death unable to move or breathe.
-Menu options are limitless. Wanna make cinnamon rolls and a quesadilla for dinner? SURE! Coconut shrimp and Spanakopita? DON'T MIND IF I DO. You can even have a fucking steak and be sluggish as hell because the most movement you will be doing is picking your ass up off the couch to your glorious bed.
-Complete control of the remote. Mindless reality? Rapey crime dramas? Drag (queen) races? The possibilities are endless.

All in all I'd say I have it pretty good right now. So I'm taking my sweet ass time and choosing a real good one when the time comes around for me to dust off my boots and get back in the saddle. Here's hoping cowboys and girls!

Fuck you Olivia Wilde

That's right, I said it. You and your pregnant gym outings. Stop going to the gym. Take the lead from a few of my favorite pregnant pals, Jessica Simpson and Kate Hudson. THAT'S what pregnancy should look like. I need you to look like a whale, eat pickles and cheetos, and sit on your fat ass a little bit. Take a load off, enjoy those sweet moments of sleep and delicious food. Make the rest of us look good for once. But nooooo, not Olivia. She's too busy perfecting the hipster pregnant look. I can't even perfect the regular person hipster look! And for the record what was she even in? TRON??! The only good thing she ever did for us and her career was The Black Donnelly's, you're welcome if you haven't seen this gem. You may be wondering, Tanya, what brought on all this bitterness and rage?-- let me assure you it's coming from a good place.

A couple of months back my friend emailed me a Glamour article written by Miss Wilde, as much as I don't want to publicize this it's worth the short read and then it will be much more apparent why my blood started to boil...  http://www.glamour.com/entertainment/2013/08/olivia-wilde-s-advice-for-turning-30

As I am rapidly approaching my own (shhh) 30th birthday ... (45 days to be exact) I am wildly aware that there are no hopeful voices, no true words of wisdom and advice from people like myself -the real folks, the ones in the thick of it...deep in the trenches of singledom. I don't need to hear that it's ok and "not to worry"  if I'm not married with a kid by someone who is MARRIED AND HAVING A KID!!!!!!!! with jjjjjaaaaaaaaaason sudeakis no less. Not to mention her "terrible dating" years were with the likes of Bradley Cooper and Justin friggin Timberlake. Sounds rough. So much pressure you poor thing. You must have been under a great deal of pressure when you were married TO A PRINCE at the ripe old age of 19!!!!!!!!!! Is that how things work in "Holly-weird" (her stupid word not mine). Below are a few of my favorite words of wisdom from Buddha herself...

DON'T freak out about all the brilliant people who accomplished more than you by the time
they were 30....
Ok, first of all I wasn't even freaking out about it until you TOLD ME NOT TO FREAK OUT about it.
I wasn't even going to put myself in the same realm as geniuses, thank you very much. This is how her advice column STARTS!!? Why don't I just throw myself off a bridge and get it over with. Hell, I consider myself a frickin' success train because of the fact that I finally have a 401k. I'm not reaching for any stars or solving theories of rela-goddamn-tivity.

DO enjoy your sexual prime...
Riiiiiiight, would love to, but gonna need a partner at some point to help out with this. And now that I'm finally too old to have irrational one night stands and I want to "wait for the right guy" oh who am I kidding even just wait for the "guy that says we are actually dating" that means my sexual prime consists of masturbating and bubble baths. THANKS FOR THE HELPFUL HINT LIV!

DO travel...
Sure, good idea, I'll take the $25 that i put in my savings acct at the end of the month, that usually goes right back into my checking acct to cover rent and spring for a "last minute trip to Morocco just because you damn well feel like it"...ya know what else I damn well feel like doing? punching you in your beady-probably-not-even-real green EYES! Thanks for reminding me I still barely have enough credit line to buy a bathroom mat.

DON'T feel pressured to pop out kids...
"I love kids with a passion I normally reserve for hot cheese, miniature chairs and Prince concerts." Really?! Miniature chairs. No one likes miniature chairs!!! Is that some dumb hipster thing that I'm not hip to!? And don't even get me started on hot cheese? HOT CHEESE? Olivia, you deeply sadden me. Everyone knows that cheese is best served on a platter with crispy doughy bread and some prosciutto. And don't act like you eat cheese.

I like to think we are all doing exactly what we're supposed to be doing. Working, living, laughing, trying to make the most out of this life and having a little fun while doing it. All the rest just sort of falls into place. Sure there are always pressures, I was pressured to lose my virginity and have my first kiss-- and look at how well I did with that! Kids and marriage are in the bag, just holding out for a hero is all. As my mom always said, I just have to find the lid that fits my pot. And this is a dammmmn good pot. This is like William Sonoma shit, son.

So eat a cheeseburger Olivia, binge watch some Netflix, and gain about 60 pounds, then we can talk.

The terrible, horrible, no good very bad day  (or in my case days, months, years)  

 Remember that children’s book where that kid Alexander went to bed with gum in his hair and woke up with it stuck in his hair, then tripped on a skateboard and dropped his sweater in the sink while it was still running and he could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day. Yah I feel like that’s a direct metaphor for my life recently.  Kinda like everyone else is getting a junior undercover agent code ring in their cereal box, and yes like Alex, all I’m finding is breakfast goddamn cereal.  When did the doors start closing instead of opening for me? Why is it that right when I start to get the wheels going someone has to throw a wrench in there? I really hate when people just whine and complain but at a certain point you really do have to wonder what makes some people lucky and others not so much.

Alexander’s solution to his problems, “I think I’ll move to Australia” –yah my sentiments exactly. I can’t help but feel that things might be a little bit easier in Australia (Or Paris or Prague or Hawaii) Hell, my little sister wants to rent a Winnebago and live like the homeless hippies in San Francisco do! I would love to think that all my problems would just disappear if I move somewhere cool and exotic—but time has taught me that your problems do still rear their ugly head wherever you go…annoying but true. At singing time the teacher said Alex was singing too loud, and at counting time he left out 16--- he so poignantly asks “who needs 16?” I’m in love with this kid. Who DOES need 16?!?! He knew to ask the right questions—he was struggling to find some meaning to his miserable life—just like me! Maybe it’s my laziness or lack of ambition or growing bitterness that every time I try something I will inevitably fail so what’s the point attitude.  Yah that makes sense…but others happen to find themselves in a place of yes, or in the way of opportunity, or at the fucking right place at the right fucking time! Bitches.

Clearly I’m stuck in a rut. Beyond stuck actually--- fastened face down to the ground cement poured over me stuck. I can recall the exact moment I came to this conclusion. I was sitting in the drive thru of the local McDonalds ordering TWO (yes two) McDoubles, a 6 piece chicken nugget, large fry and a small coke when I realized….maybe my life isn’t going the exact way I pictured it. I moved home because I was in so much credit card debt (of which I am now free of), a friend got me a job working for a restoration company of which it is still unclear what the fuck it is I am supposed to do or what restoration and water heaters and re-piping even means. I was staying with a friend when he informed me his house had to be renovated by his homeowner's association. So it was either the streets or my father's. This normally seems like a no-brainer but you would be surprised how long and hard i had to think on that one. Oh, also I was waitressing but broke my toe falling down the stairs. 6 LONG WEEKS of the most obnoxious moon boot you've ever seen. Seems a little excessive, no? When every plan you've made falls through one has to wonder....WHY ME?!?!?! I'm literally typing this right now at Starbucks down the hill from his house so I can look busy and important—rather than do what I mostly do when he’s gone—watch 39 episodes of damages in 3 days.  The more I pretend to actually work the more I realize I probably should be working. This is the annoying part about living at home. You have much more time to think about what you are doing with your life. When I was up in LA I was too busy getting drunk and running up debt to even think about such trivial things. But here in suburbia you are reminded of what a failure you are and the ridiculous life you are leading.  Mostly when you run into people you grew up with and are faced with such terrifying questions like “How are you?” or “what are you doing these days” How can I put this delicately…. I’m still a disaster.  

I used to think blogs were only meant to be humorous or inspirational so I’ve been holding off for such a long time because I haven’t felt particularly funny and least of all inspiring. Sometimes I am able to be in such shit situations that I find comedy in my fucked up scenarios. But now things are almost so sad that it’s not even funny (Which surprisingly I laugh even when writing that line)  But a good friend reminded me that not everybody needs to laugh all the time or read funny stories—people like to relate to people. Period.  Whether that is through joy, sadness, weakness, vulnerability, failure whatever. Misery loves company too, right? When I’m down and out I love watching intervention or my strange addiction. It makes me feel really good about my life .. I might be living with my dad, working meaningless jobs, eternally single yet hopeful, and about 30 lbs overweight but hey, at least I didn’t lose custody of my kids because of a crack addiction. And sure I might have eaten a few too many girl scout cookies last night but ya know what? I’m not dressing up like a baby and building a crib to sleep in and I’m certainly not removing the other side of the fridge with a wrench to get to my alcohol supply or stabbing a bottle of red wine with a knife to get it open only to down it completely in one big chug (please tell me you watched that episode!)  My sister and I laugh sometimes because we remember the good ol’ days when she was addicted to drugs. Her to-do list seemed much shorter and less daunting. Mine consisted of debt, school loans, bills, rent, exercise, a job, etc. Her list was simple…. Find Drugs.  

And you know what’s even worse is when Hollywood finally does tell a story that actually seems similar to my life---thankless job, parents cut you off from money, loser boyfriends, chubby ---I’m abruptly reminded that these “girls” on HBO are in fact 23! That means it was 5 YEARS ago for me and I’m still pretty much in the exact same place….actually worse. I might have already blown my brains out if I didn’t have additional brilliant/funny/failure friends who themselves are miserable too. It helps to know we are not alone. How lucky am I to not have to convince myself or others that I'm living the dream life and everything came up roses. We can commiserate together and laugh at our misfortunes.

Poor Alexander had to eat lima beans for dinner and wear his railroad pajama pants ---he hates lima beans and his railroad pajama pants. I feel ya Alex.  The end of the story arrives and I am anxiously awaiting some intelligent insight into this life of gloom and depression –the way only children’s books can shed light on such things---but all his mom says is, “some days are just like that….. even in Australia.”  Simple.  Some days ARE just fucking like that. It makes sense. Get over it, maybe tomorrow will be better.   I would hope that everyone is struggling in one facet of their life or another. Does that sound as terrible as it looks? As much as I bitch and complain I’m sure there are things about my life that others wish they had.  Maybe my useless knowledge of the real housewives will come in handy one day, or my extremely high tolerance to liquor will prove useful, and maybe my ability to watch 25 episodes of Up All Night in one sitting will be the stepping stone to figuring out what it is I am supposed to be doing in this godforsaken life. But for now all I can tell you is if you’re lucky enough to work hard for the weekend, save some money for vacations, drink a lot of good wine with good friends, eat good food and laugh a whole bunch (at yourself or life’s absurdities) then I would say you’re doing all right. And you’re in good company.

"The Glass is Half Empty" or "Where is My Big Mac"

Dieting. We've all been there and if you haven't fuck you. I'm still at that miserable point in my life where I'm "figuring things out" (**reality- waiting for something miraculous to happen like a career idea that I don't have to work hard for or even better a proposal!) And when your life consists of a piece of shit job (retail, waiting tables, 9-5, etc) it's the little things you look forward to... the weekend, nights out, dinners, brunch, bars, ice cream, popcorn at movies, and WINE. If I'm suddenly deprived of these things I feel as if I have nothing to live for. Dramatic? Yes. Truth? Yes.

I know what you're thinking... "Tanya, you don't have to deprive yourself of anything--moderation is the key" Or "it's all about finding a healthy balance" When someone tells me this I would literally rather have my eyes taped open and watch the scene in black swan where winona ryder stabs herself in the face with pencils on repeat. I'm hungry dammit!!!!! The day I look forward to a handful of almonds or a piece of cinnamon raisin Ezekiel bread is a very somber day. The only kind of food I allow with any bible references whatsoever is In-N-friggin-Out!

I find myself getting very anxious and on edge. Working out helps temporarily. But as soon as I'm out of there I'm back to being miserable and angry. Possibly even worse because now I'm tired. The littlest things set me off... I was telling my sister (a very skinny workout-nazi) that I was going on a power walk today then she said in what i thought was a very condescending tone "Ohhh, well I wouldn't like that. I like to sweat when i work out." Bitch, I sweat eating a bowl of fucking cereal.

I think everyone is out to get me--it's like I'm in this permanently paranoid state of hysteria a la claire-danes-in-Homeland, minus her skeletal, delicate frame. The commercial ads clearly know when I'm dieting so they run the carl's jr. breakfast biscuit spot ONE MORE TIME. My friends sense my weakness (much like dogs smell fear) and want to go out for a margarita. First of all, I can't go for A margarita --that word to me is forever set in the plural punctuation margaritaS--which leads to chips, salsa, guacamole, and cheese quesadillas. And NO i will not dip veggies in my guacamole. I refuse. That would be like dipping strawberries in shit.

Clearly I have some issues to work out. This will forever be a battle I cannot win. But in the meantime I will no longer starve and binge. I will work out. I will have a cheat day. I will learn to reward myself with pretty clothes and not just vodka. Most importantly I will work with what I've got and be eternally grateful for my giant tits and my ass.

Now what?!

Me: I think I'm depressed.
My Therapist: I think you are too.

(Wait what? That wasn't what you were supposed to say. I thought maybe you could humor me and tell me that this is all perfectly normal and this is just a phase and things are going to start to take off for me soon and in the meantime i don't have to do any work or motivate myself to do anything different than what I'm doing (or not doing) at the moment. Dammit. So what you're saying is it's me? I'm the only one who can help myself)

Me: Do i need a pill? Can I take a pill?
My therapist: No you cannot take a pill! Just get back to being you.

(Motherfuck. What does that even mean? Back to being me? I'm a mess-we've already established this. Ohhhhh I see...what you're trying to tell me is be the best version of "me"-- the motivated go-getter who would stop at nothing to get what she wants. But I'm tired. Ugh. Think about handicapped people or poor people or single mothers or volunteers in the peace corps building rafts or something. Are they tired? Yes. But they keep going. Why am i even tired? what did I do today? Watch 7 hours of Breaking Bad. Pathetic.)

Just reading this over makes me exhausted. I lack the motivation to barely finish this sentence let alone an entire blog post. WHYYYY???!!! Is it the summer heat that makes me want to throw my hands up and just say fuck it and have a drink? Is it beceause I'm having a quarter life crisis a little late at the age of 27 and re-evaluating my entire goddam existence? Am I already trying to forget about my troubles and disappear into those of our favorite Bravo TV characters? (Mary McDonald being my new personal fav) No, No, No! I'm too young to be doing that...I have to at least wait until I have a child before I can forget my life and live vicariously through someone else's.

Recently I've come to the decision that I no longer want to be an actor anymore. I know..i know...but really this is a good thing. I've thought long and hard about it and here are a few things I know I want.... I want to create, write, live passionately, love hard, feel, learn, laugh, and drink. Is that too much to ask? The "business" part of it all started to wear on me...and eventually wore me out. I had to go back to the core of why I even got into this business in the first place. I wanted to meet new people and learn new things and I was always good at it. The talent part came easy to me. What was not so easy is the constant hussle, the selling yourself, the cuthroat nature of it all, the marketing yourself, the rejection, and the narcissists you meet along the way (allll of which I know are in any profession but magnified by a 1000% in the town of Hollywood-and brentwood and santa monica)

An acting teacher of mine always told me "If you can do anything else in this world and be happy then fucking do it and get out now-it's tough" and in my mind I always used to think "oh well that's me-i simply cannot do anything else" ...but the moment I started to tell myself and others out loud that I think i can be happy trying other things it started to just come out naturally and I started to feel good- like i was making the right decision. (or that I'm not and will try something new for awhile and fail miserably-but either way I will be failing BIG!- and I'll never have to think what if?)

The question that everyone asks themselves at one point or another seems to be the same no matter what field you're in..."can I do something I love and still make enough money to live comfortably" That's what I plan to find out. I want to get up and have meaning to my life. A real true purpose. I am starting to open my mind up to other possibilities. Real concrete possibilities that I can make happen for myself. Maybe an English teacher? Or even a therapist? As terrifying as all of this sounds it's strangely freeing in a weird way. I can really picture my life differently- my idea of happiness is the stuff that's in between a "work" day (the conversations and laughs shared with co-workers, the vacations and road trips and nights out with friends, the messy and ridiculously wonderful relationships with my family, and then eventually sharing all of it with someone who is just awesome and funny and he and I can continue sharing all of this with our very own family one day)

But for now, while I'm figuring out my life in this moment of transition, my sister Hayley told me to remember the simple things that I do have, and be grateful for them and say them out loud. Since I'm ususally coming at things from a bitter point of view and whenever anyone writes "I'm grateful" or "blessed" as their status update it usually makes me want to puke I'll spare you all the details. But know that I'm saying those things aloud and it's helping.

Now if I can only figure out what the fuck it is I want to do with my life. I'll keep you posted :)