I am taking a dance course this semester which ties woman's body image and dance. The first response I wrote was on feminism. The articles which I responded to were about the skinny image women obsess to be. It touched on how a healthy appetite is seen as 'weak' and only strong 'will power' can conquer appetite. This cultural message equation is as such: skinny = strong. Oh the irony. I am always at my best when I am hungry.

I personally love food. I eat all the time. It took me years to get here. Before this, food was the enemy. Such a sad past. So happy to be in my mid 20's and celebrating my health. In a society which obsesses over food by not eating, somehow I have managed to love the things I should hate. I love food, Latin dance and music. I will never be the skinny girl on the dance floor giving my behind to some stranger while listening to super super degrading popular music.

Because my roommate was curious on response, I will cut and paste my response.

Feminism is demanding equal gender treatment. Women want to be seen and treated as equal. For this reason alone I am a feminist. There is a societal box which women are expected to fit. Who creates and maintains this box? The dominate influence of our white male protestant culture create it and label it ‘Handle with Care’. But women can’t all fit this box. This box parallels expectations of a parent for a child. If a parent pushes their artistic child to be a doctor, then that child is suppressed of their true ‘self’ (page 10, Part 1, What is Women’s Studies). The box men have put women is essentially pushing a artistic child to be a doctor.

I do not bash men. I think they are just as victim as the box they have built and have to live with. Fortunately for women, the strong voices of past feminists have started to breaking away at the box. This feminist movement has allowed women to be one step ahead of men in differentiating between reality and societal expectations. This is why women can step out of the victim light and choose to make a difference in their walk.

On a daily basis, I try to be a leader. I lead through confidence. By doing this I amaze both women and men. I show them what is real. There is an entire media influenced culture which has brainwashed us into believing a women’s worth is only body deep. I admit there are days when the negative influence of the mass media traps me in the ‘I am fat’ mentality. Yet I make a conscious effort to celebrate who I am, and focus on my strengths as the beautiful person I am, and will continue to be.

Peanut Butter Oatmeal!!!

Try it, it is great. I can't believe I have never discovered it before.

As far as the dating goes, I am done with the juggling. It is exhausting. I don't know what I have told one guy, and what I haven't told the other. I feel like I repeat my stories. Frankly, I am tired of my own stories. I have 1 month before school starts. There is quite a bit of prep work I need to do. I want to read a book on immunology before I jump into the class, and while doing so, I can reference my microbiology book. My goal is to get all A's this semester! For the masters programs of course. I need to get organized and back into shape (considering I am once again able to walk, but the fact that I teach aerobics holds me to a fitness standard) I also need to finish my website class and simplify my living space. I know, impossible to fit in the boys.

Don't worry, there will be stories. Like 2 Italians discussing how to make red sauce at 3am in Albertos with 2 Irish boys. No, you don't blend the meat in a blender. Or hitting the gym and seeing the X coming out of the Club Boxing class that I had asked him to take with me. I asked him to accompany me only after he told me I needed to hit the gym cause my arms were fat. He came of course. Yet he showed up late, handed me a bar of chocolate, and refused to take the class cause it looked too hard.

Friends!? and opposite sex

Here is my hang up. Can you be friends with a guy? In my experience, I have only been able to be friends with guys if there was a 'untouchable' factor. For instance, if either he or I has a significant other, then it works. Or, if he runs in a the same professional circle, the line cant be crossed so soon, so you become friends. Or if they are family friends and you have known them for a while. Or if there is a difference in 'beauty', being that one or the other is out of their league, then it is settled as friends. And what happens when you become such good friends, then one starts to like the other? It is quite a delicate situation.

I just received an opinion from a friend of how dating doesn't work. I am perplexed. The resource exclaimed that there is a preconceived idea about these 'interviews'. The problem is both parties are always 'on form'. And if you think the person is buena gente, then an imidaiate romance tend to follow. There is no room for friendship. Apparenlty guys will always try to hit it. Unless the girl keeps it as friends.

But here is where I am hung up. What happens if the wall is so strong as a friends, that he goes and finds something easier. (logically so) You just cant wait. I think if the communication is strong, you can date romantically and keep a friendship. So what if your 'on form' for a little bit. Isn't everyone at some point in any type of relation 'on form'? PPPPPPPPoker Face.

So now I am sitting here analyzing succesful relationships. Which ones were good friends?

So instead of a serial dater, should I become a serial 'friend' Will I be the inevitable 'guys girl' the 'wing woman' for all my friends? Then I can really see true personalities before I even go romantic. Hmmmmm not too sure about that.

HOw do solve a problem like Maria, How catch a cloud and pin it down? This is such a crazy topic. I just wish it wasn't so complicated.

Weeding

According to Chava, I don't discriminate while dating. But I have officially began to discriminate. Either because they are too ghetto, too forward or both. Ciao to Central America, Mexico and Africa. I just don't get them, they confuse me.

Circus

Shrinivas, Bugra, Otaniel, Kadeon. These are my juggling balls. Countries of origin will not be disclosed, for performers must not expose all of thier tricks at once. Can you smell that? Yes, its fire.

Setting the Butt Bar

My skin has almost cleared up. It has been a 10 year fight. Yet I finally get one thing settled and then I am having trouble buttoning my size 12 "comfortable" pants. Shucks. If its not one thing, its another.

Somehow I came to the realization that there is no 'cup' size for butt size. I think it was when the guy I was seening tried to guess my bust size. I then found out he was really an ass man. So then, how would he measure my butt size? Nice? But that is so vauge. What do the South Americans ask for when they get a butt enlargment? Maybe they just go by country. For instance, my sister has a distinct Puerto Rican butt. Maybe you can ask for an African butt, or the famous Brazilian butt. Or do they just go by actresses: J-Lo, Kim Kardashian, Beyonce. Definitely not Paris Hilton!!! That would be a butt reduction standard.

There is no butt bar. 36 ??? WHAT: 36 Puerto Rican butt, 42 English butt, 38 African butt, 38 J-Lo butt, 34 Paris Hilton butt. REally, it would be so nice if jeans would incorporate that into their sizing. Yes, 30 waist and 36 Brazilian butt. J-Lo is way ahead of the game on setting the Butt Bar

So I have not even blogged a bit on dating. The stories are too much. But I have learned 2 things from my most recent 'experiment' (poor guy, I hope he doesn't read this). These are deal breakers!!! 1) Zit popping is a must. None of this 'let it go naturally'. 2) If he is worried about the sun damaging his hair, ummm, bye.

In the last month, I have had a few 'potty' stories. I think they are worth noting.

Location: Viggilucis single stall restroom (up-scale restaurant)

I walk into the bathroom, like I have done millions of times. As the door is swinging shut, the next woman catches it and walks in. (Like what has happened a million times before). I walk into the stall, lock the door. I am on one mission, to pee. The lady that is waiting does something that has never happened before. As soon as I lock the door, she starts talking to me (mind you, I never even caught glance of the lady, I had been on a mission.) She tells me not to hurry. Excuse me.

"Don't hurry, I am just doing my makeup. You can relax," she says with such consideration of my possible pee anxiety. Thanks lady, I was so worried. Now I can pee without that burden. Really, who says that? But she didn't stop.

"At least you don't have to go number 2. That is what Target is for. I hate when that happens at places like this." What does she know? I almost wished I had to go number 2.

"Ya" I respond. Now I am really starting to get pee anxiety. I am so shocked that my systems start shutting down.

"Here, I'll help you", insists the crazy mystery lady. At this point I am thankful that I remembered to lock the door. How the hell is this lady going to help me pee?

She turns on the water. "This might help you relax." NO, shutting up will help me relax, I think. Does she think this is my first time using a public restroom?

So I finally pee, like I have done a million times before. As I leave the stall, I realize that she is still there. I start visualizing what this crazy lady will look like. I am imagining a cougar. A 50 year old woman, with tons of make-up, botox and fake boobs in a mini skirt and tanning booth bronzed legs, who apparently confuses strangers in the bathroom with her daughter.

But she doesn't look crazy. She looks like an average 40 year old mom. As she finishes her make-up and I wash up, we talk about the local street fair. She had just came from there and I was planning on going the next day. She walks me out the bathroom and wishes me a good day at the street fair.

REALLY who does that?

Location: Airplane back from London

The plane is full of good looking men. SCORE. Not to mention some hot accents. Who sits next to me? All women. There is a lesbian couple to my Left. The girl has some horrid perfume that keeps making me sneeze. On the Right, the black Caribbean?? woman stares at the blank screen in front of her because she cant figure out the remote (for 5 hours). She barely speaks English (which is good because I frankly want to watch my 10 hours of movies in peace). At the tail end of the flight, they bring us sandwiches. I refuse mine. I cant eat on airplanes, the altitude messes with my stomach. The lady asks me to retreat my sandwich decline because she wants mine. But the stewardess moves to the next row. I tell her I have a hard time eating on airplanes. She understands.

"I have pooped 3 times." She declares very clearly and proudly. Then she continues on in broken English which I don't understand (and I am the queen of understanding broken English, look at my dating passport). Something about what she ate yesterday and what she didn't eat and it was really confusing. Oh yea, did I say she smelt the opposite of perfume?

REALLY Who says that?

Location: Gym locker room

After blow drying my hair, I walk over to my locker and there is a lady sitting on the bench next to my stuff. But it wasn't like she was sitting down, taking off her shoes, or getting a towel out, or brushing her hair. It was like she was sitting waiting for me. She smiled like she knew me as I approached my stuff. I said hi, she said hi. She started talking to me (or should I say at me). As I packed up my stuff, I found out everything about her minus her dogs name. Her summer vacation schedule, her childhood, her poor exercise habits, her two daughters, their ages and interests, their boyfriend status, her daughters friend who was trying to 'get attention' aka suicide, her daughters friends parents and their family dynamics...

REALLY, why me? My mom says its because I smile when I talk. But I don't think she understands that many cases I am not even talking, and in the case of bathroom incident, o-crazy-one didn't even see me. Only once can I say that attracting weirdos worked to my advantage.

The day I made 20 bucks in the SPA.

No, there was nothing perverse here. I was in the spa with a friend. There were two old men sitting on the other corner engrossed in a conversation in an other language (some middle eastern tongue). My friend and I were interrupted by one of the men.

"My friend here will pay me 20 if I come talk to you two." Says fat old man. And let me tell you, so smooth. Never heard anything smoother. Ha

Awkward silence. What did I care if he made 20 bucks?

"Ok, well, you're talking to us." I replied rudely. What did he want? To suddenly talk about the weather?

"Well, since you're talking, I will give you the 20 bucks."

"OK, I could use 20 bucks" I said without hesitation. That was much smoother. Now I am looking at the men differently. Like they are even fatter and stupider than I thought!!!

Then we talked about the weather for 5 minutes (not really, but the conversation was so boring we might as well been).

The arrangement was that we would meet the old fat greedy men in front of the gym to pay up. They payed and then asked us to lunch the next day. I said no, I had to work. How bout another day? No. How bout your number? No. How bout your friend? No, she has a boyfriend. Who cares? She does. Thanks for the 20 bucks. Bye.

Yuk...the nerve.

So that is how I made 20 bucks in the SPA.

So my roomie and I hit the sauna after our 2 hour work out.

Roomie: "I am just gonna lay down here"
Rach: "k"
Roomie: "You just missed my friend. He just walked out of here all hot and sweaty."
Rach: "oh darn"
Roomie: "I am so shaky right now. Everything on me hurts.
Rach: "Me too"
Roomie:"Tonight I am not going to be able to talk. My jaw is so sore. I am going to be like deerrr"
Latin Man in Sauna: "Que cochinas! I have to go clean off now"
Latin Man leaves Sauna disgusted by us!
Roomie: "What!?! Cochinas! How are we cochinas? (this means pigs or dirty girls in Spanish)
Rach: "ummm think about it, you said your friend just walked out of here shirtless and sweaty, then you complained that you were sore all over and that your jaw hurts so bad you cant talk!!!"

5 minutes pass, 6 other men walk in. Latin Man returns, after getting cleaned off in the pool. He sits next to the Cochina roomie.

Roomie upset with Latin man: "I didn't mean it like that. Why did you call us cochinas?"
Latin Man: "Why eh"
Roomie: "Because we aren't pigs"
Latin Man: "No eh its like your exotic or something!"
Roomie: "What? Exotic?? That is not what cochina means!"
Latin Man: "Ya eh, its like ur bad in a good way. Like bad ass."
Roomie: "No, I know what it means and I have never heard it like that!"

They fight over the definition. He is dumb. We decide that cochina can be what ever one wants it to be. It is the good meal I made tonight. It is the dirty mesero who keeps repeating roomies name and touching her hand. It is a tie dyed shirt. It is professor hitting on student. It is no clean underwear. It is the bad ass salsa dancer. It is gypsy music. It is my tipsy gypsy coctail. It is my brother who wants me to take him to the airport at 3 AM. It is this day. A cochina day.

This blogging is going to be a journal until I can master the art of entertainment via word. I think I am funny. I am not to sure if everyone else feels the same. And when I say I 'think' I am funny, I am being literal. I don't say many funny things, but in my head, I am a comedy club.

At breakfast today (eaten at 12 since I have no where to be and I was supposed to be on the beaches of Malaga, Spain tomando sol por el dia y bailando salsa por la noche) I decided to personify my fruit (again, being literal). OH yes, the new facebook question of the day is "If you were a fruit, what would you be?"

A fig.

For sure. And then to add to my curiosity, I discovered that figs are pollinated by wasps! They actually crawl into the fruit, no just the flower.
In a strict botanical sense fig "fruits" are actually inside-out flower clusters.
COOL...and for this, I thought the whole world should know this fact. This is why I am a nerd and want to be a biology teacher!

What fruit would you be and how are you pollinated...in other words, what turns you on? What does your fruit say about you?

Calimyrna Figs In California

Calimyrna Figs In California

I think my stage name just changed from PIMIENTA to FIG. Not sure yet, gonna have to sleep on this one.

Peacocking

I started my week off with a day at the beach!!! Yes, with my broken leg I hobble to the beach, find piece of sand and read for a while. I enjoy my solitude. I send no vibes of needing company. But 'they' find me. A summer beach filled with ladies working on their skin cancer, I get approached. An old man walks up to me an rambles for a good 5 minutes. I continue to keep my nose in my book as he continues to ramble. But then he starts to take a seat.

"Do you mind if I join you? I don't have a suit, just my training shorts...you know Speedos."

Rach to Rach conversation "My therapist told me I need to exercise being assertive on strangers. Here is my chance."

"umm, actually, I am trying to finish this book".

Assertion, come on REALLY Rach. That is all you got. Next time say 'NO'. But it worked. He left. I looked around me. Why me? REALLY. There were 7 other cute girls, just as focused in their books as I was, and I was the chosen one.

On Thursday Night:
My house mate and I have infamous stories on nights out. This night particular we both had curly hair! Trouble! I was actually nervous for the night. Which is quite strange, because I am rarely nervous. We skipped the line 30 minute line, got escorted in by the manager, dont ask how, and then a friend of mine offered to get us into the club for free! We were set. Since I cant dance and we are forced to sit down and watch the club, we invent a game. We decided to play the passport game. Basically we try to meet as many international people as we can. We use the camera and ask a foreign looking person (male or female) to take our photo. Our first two stamps were female. One Brazilian and one girl from Switzerland (switzerlandian?).
A white boy (heaven forbid) walks over and offers to take our picture. We read each others mind "no" but we both have a problem with assertion so we say "yes" He is quite a character. Rings all over his fingers, plaid pants, very different, very gay. We are in the safety net. And what do you know...he is another confused Italian American salsa dancer who speaks Spanish. He is part of our club. Then his friend walks over and what do you know...he is from Australia. Check! Passport stamp! We continue conversing over loud music. Australian claims to be a priest, so we do a mock wedding. Really. Now we are bored with plaid pants and need a change of scene. Like an angel, Mesopotamian guy approaches house mate. Stamp! We head up to the top floor of the club. We cant get in because it is full. I say something to the bouncer and bat my eyelashes and we get in.

1:30 comes. We leave. Plaid pants in tow. House mate has to pee. I offer her my tire. Plaid pants offers his house and a 3some. "She'd rather pee on my tire. Bye" REALLY

Apparently plaid pants was PEACOCKING. Targeting conservative girls, striking conversation with jewelery...there is a entire website on how to seduce with the peacock technique. Yet we are so naive that we didn't even realize.

"Really?" That was the comment from my house mate which triggered this blog. Well, that and I think everyone is sick of hearing my 'stories'. The open mouth jaw drop 'really' was after I recapped my first adventure on match.com. I guess most people would consider them 'dates', but in my life, that isn't so. They are adventures. Dates just lead to disappointment. I honest to goodness would like to meet some cool souls on match.com, but judging by my first experience, this might be a joke.

I am an average looking white girl. Big Brown hair, small blue eyes, larger than average nose size, half bad skin, 10 lbs over my goal weight (mostly kept in my two prized b's...boobs and butt). And apparently, as an old dirty wise man once told me, I ooze of feminine energy...(this is where the REALLY comes in my life) I sometimes get asked my ethnicity, but that is usually because I frequent places which attract various ethnicities. Here are some common perceptions..Jewish, French, Greek, Middle Eastern. Of which I am none. I am an Irish/Italian mutt.

Why Blog?

• I have a stress fracture on my L foot. It keeps me from my normal activities (soccer and dance) So I have some time on my hands.
• I am dying with curiosity about this online dating stuff.
• I am praying that by having this blog, maybe the crazy stuff in my life will suddenly stop. I might be able to lead a normal life

Lets just say this, I once miswrote my address on my drivers license (I tend to transpose my numbers). Of course I lost this license on a night out on the town and luckily a very kind person mailed it back to me. Ah, but not to my address, to another address. Upon receiving this random persons ID with the incorrect address, she thought I was using the address as a front for an identity. One lovely day at work the police phoned me and told me I had to come to the station. Apparently this lady freaked out and reported me!!! REALLY I picked up my license, got a slap on the hand, and I always double check my address when filling out forms!!!