2. Entry 2
834 Words
Entry 2
I’m thrilled because it’s the first of February, and I was excited to sit down and write in here. That’s proof that I’m well on my way to keeping my first resolution.
Dear future self, are you wondering if I kept the second resolution and dumped Ryan? Hopefully, your memory is still accurate enough to remember, but just in case… YES, I did. I am so proud of myself. It wasn’t easy because I have always hated any kind of conflict, but I managed.
On the night in question, we were relaxing in bed together. I evidently became too comfortable because I accidently let a little toot slip out. I was so flustered, I lost track of what I had been saying. Ryan started calling me ‘FF’ (which he indicated stood for ‘fart and forget’) and laughing hysterically at his own inane joke. I sat up, turned on the bedside lamp, looked him directly in the eye, and told him in no uncertain terms that we needed to end things. It probably seems like a petty reason to call off a relationship, but it was really just the final straw in a long string of unkind and unflattering things he had said to me.
I don’t need his kind of external negative influence in my life, especially since I have a tendency to let doubts swirl around and build inside my head anyway.
He took it pretty well. I think he knew it was coming. He probably would have ended things with me a while back if I hadn’t been providing him a financial incentive to stay with me. Anyway, he is gone, and I feel like a 200-pound weight has been lifted from my shoulders.
It sucks being the only single lady in our little group, but it’s better than having a boyfriend who tries to make me feel inferior.
I think I’ll spend a little bit of time being single. I prefer having a man in my life, but I’ve been making terrible choices lately and am better off alone than with someone who makes me feel unworthy.
After living alone for a few days, I’ve noticed some unintended perks of the situation… the toaster stays on the setting I prefer (Ryan preferred his darker than mine, so he would adjust the knob and leave it, which left me with burnt toast), the toilet seat is always down (as it should be), the drawers are completely shut with nothing hanging out, I can be as messy or as neat as I want and there’s no one to come along and change it. It’s actually rather fabulous.
The only downside of living alone is that I don’t eat nearly as healthy as I did when I had a man around to judge my dinner choices. On the nights when we don’t go out as a group, I’ve been eating Pirate’s Booty and mint chocolate chip ice cream. I told Fern and Marina it was the dinner of champions. When they exchanged a concerned look, I made a joke about how much weight I’ll put on if I keep living alone. I told them that the bigger my a*s gets, the more it eats my bikini bottoms, which had them both cracking up. At least I can always be counted on for some comic relief.
I guess if one has to have a stereotypical role in a group, being the funny, self-effacing airhead isn’t all that bad. At least I’m friendly and fun to be around. I often get told that I’m the life of the party, and that makes me feel good. It would be nice to be taken a little more seriously, though.
My features probably add to the impression that I am a bubbly bimbo. It’s not like blondes with big jugs are generally thought of as rocket scientists. I usually try to be a good sport about the unfair assumptions and dumb blond jokes, but sometimes it would be nice to not have so many preconceived notions attached to me each time I meet someone new.
I guess that probably sounds bitter. I’m sure there are those who don’t automatically assume that I’m a dimwit before giving me a chance to prove otherwise, but most people I meet think they know things about me before I even speak. It’s frustrating.
Rather than whining about it, I think I’ll do something about it. I’ve had long, light blonde hair for as long as I can remember. I’m not quite ready to become a brunette, but I think I’ll have my locks chopped off at shoulder length. Maybe a nice, smart bob will help me to be taken seriously. It can’t hurt, right?
Okay, decision made… by my next entry, I’m going to have a fresh, new haircut. Last month I cut loose a deadbeat boyfriend. This month I’ll lob off a few inches of dry, frizzy hair. I can’t wait to see how smooth and healthy my tresses are going to be. In fact, I think I’ll go right now. Until next time…
- Writer
