The Pros and Cons of My Single Life

Pro: I do what I want

Long gone are the days of Friday Night Boxing and Saturday or Sunday movie dates, whether they'd be in or out. If I want to go hiking, I go hiking. If I want to go dancing, I go dancing. And if I want to stay in, I stay in. I don't have to "check in" with my significant other to coordinate our schedules. There are no more compromises. I decide what to do, where to do it, and when.

Con: I have to conjure up someone to do what I want with me

I no longer have the luxury of relying on a boyfriend to accompany me to work events, friend's parties, family gatherings, or clubbing. Now I have to determine who I can drag with me on different excursions. Will my sister be up for it? Will my friend Susanna be available? Should I just gather up the balls and go by myself? I know it shouldn't be a big deal going to the movies alone or eating sushi by a window unaccompanied since I shop in the singular form all the time. So why am I so hesitant? What am I scared of? I already eat dinner by my lonesome self most weeknights. And I miss the serenity of my Gilmore Girls playing in the background when I have dinner at my parent's who constantly bark at each other. Wouldn't my party of one be peaceful too? It could be but it wouldn't because deep down, despite what I desperately want to believe, I would care about what people thought. Unlike grabbing a quick bite for lunch, people would think I was a loser for not having absolutely anybody to hang out with at dinnertime. Also, my introvert self would be in constant fear of being approached and bothered. Unless my kitchen is devoid of mac and cheese, I guess it'll be just be me, Lorelai, and Rory for another while.

Pro: I am a better driver
Driving to the mountains, the beach, museums, national parks, and missions has made me less fearful of taking on the streets, freeways, and highways of Southern California. If I miss an exit, I just turn around, no big deal. Also, heading home late from these adventures is making me get used to being behind the wheel at night, something I tried avoiding before (although I'm always on the look out for drunk drivers coming in the opposite direction). In addition, I have taken up parallel parking and backing up into a spot and am getting quite good, if I do say so myself.

Con: I am always the designated driver

Instead of playing rock-paper-scissors with a boyfriend to figure out who'll be the one having a few drinks that evening, I now play eenie minnie miney mo with my cars. Deciding which car to drive depends on the task, although sometimes it comes down to choosing the one with gas. If the outing consists of drinking, I start early and am limited to one cocktail because, sadly, there's no one else to hand over the keys to at the end of the night. 

My baby, my best friend, my faithful companion. #IHeartRubi  

Pro: I no longer live on a schedule

I used to be so anal about my routine when I was in a relationship: work, gym, dinner, shower, sleep. Adding anything to this list, like running an errand or doing laundry, would turn me into a monster. But I did it so that, by the end of the week, I would have time to spend with my boyfriend. Well, so much for that. I have since taken off my Super Woman cape. First of all, I try my best not to freak out if I can't make it to Curves because I have to go to Target or Food 4 Less instead. And if I get invited to happy hour and I really want to go, I no longer contemplate the repercussions of missing a workout. I just go. I won't lie, I will try to make up the lost day but at least I now choose to have a few laughs over working towards a flat stomach that is never going to happen. 

Con: I get less sleep

Because I now take salsa lessons in the middle of the week and sometimes even close the place down or head out to nature late in the afternoon on a whim, I find myself getting home later than I ever had. I've walked in to the house as my dad prepared to go to work at three in the morning and arrived at my apartment as a neighbor headed out to do the same before the sun rose. On those crazy nights, the ringing in my ears is a sweet lullaby and my eight hours of beauty sleep are reduced to less than six. There is one rule I live by and that is not to take out my crankiness on my students. 

 Night owl me.

Pro: I'm living life

Like most relationships, I think, I fell in a rut with my boyfriend. Going out meant picking up groceries, dinner, and a movie before heading back to my place. If I went shopping with my mom and she found a dress she thought I should buy I said, "What for? I don't go out anymore." But being single means that I seize every invitation I receive to put myself out there again. I know some friends include me in their lunch dates because they pity me while others are as lonely as I am. Either way, if I'm in the mood and think it might be a good opportunity to find Mr. Right, I gladly accept. Having plans requires fun clothing and I've been filling my closet pretty nicely. I still shop on a budget ($15 max for a shirt/blouse unless I really, really like it) but I have allowed myself a little more sex appeal and a lot more color. I'm confident if I think I look good and I know this trait will attract people whether I'm standing at the top of a mountain, staring at a painting, or hitting the dance floor. 

Con: My credit card bill is twice as much as it used to be

My shopping comes out of my checking account. If there are no funds, there is no buying. But I put my gas and grocery bills on my credit card because I get cash back. And that bill has significantly increased since being single due to a healthier diet and regular adventures. Eating well costs more but I like the results I've seen paired with my exercise regime. And, well, driving around in a 4x4 doesn't come cheap but it is tons of fun. 

Fashion + Location = Priceless Memories

Pro: I know what I want

I've been asked by males and females, "What are you looking for in a guy?" It took me a couple of months, but I think I figured it out. I want someone who is smart, loyal, honest, ambitious, funny, and hard working. I learned to identify Red Flags the hard way and will no longer tolerate anyone who plants a seed of doubt in my mind or turns on my intuition.

Con: He doesn't exist

I know the perfect man doesn't exist. I wanted someone tall who could dance and it didn't work out. So I have let go of the physical characteristics and capability requirements and am simply relying on a man's heart to conquer mine.

The one perfect man on this planet is unfortunately taken :(

Looking For...

My friends, and even some dudes, have asked me what I'm looking for in a guy. If you find these qualities rolled into one person, gals, please send him my way:

1. Someone who makes me laugh.

It takes a lot to make me laugh. It's usually a combination of smarts and silliness that does it, something to piggyback my own wit. So if he manages to make me throw my head back, he's gotta be a keeper!

2. Who is intelligent.

I consider myself to be smart but not well-rounded. If there is a man out there who doesn't make me feel stupid because I don't completely understand what is happening in Russia or Nigeria and is willing to explain it to me, I need him.

3. Who won't give me the silent treatment.

My dad does it to my mom. I did it to my ex. I'm over it. I cannot stand being in the same room with a person I have chosen to spend time with and not say a word to them. What's the point of being with someone if we're not going to maximize our time together? We need to talk it out, learn from it, and move on together.

4. Who won't let me go to sleep mad.

This one goes with point number three. Except the consequences are far worse. If I'm upset and I don't talk it out before I fall asleep, I will literally drive myself crazy. I will imagine the conversation I was supposed to have with the other person all night. I will rewind and play the things I wish I would have said until I fall asleep one hour before my alarm wakes me up to go to work. That's when the effects will be notably visible, on my face and in my behavior towards the other person.

5. Who wraps his arms around me as we fall asleep.

The connection that stems from being as physically close as two bodies possibly can, the heat, the skin-on-skin contact... priceless. I won't be hurt if we stick to our sides of the bed after that for the rest of the night.

6. Holds my hand.

To me, this means that he's not embarrassed to be seen with me and perhaps wants to show me off a little. If he walks slightly ahead of me, I also feel protected. 

7. Gives me forehead kisses.

These are sweeter, non-sexual smooches than those on the lips or anywhere else, for that matter. They translate the affection rooted deep down at the "best friend" level where true caring for the other person developed.

8. Who loves the outdoors as much as relaxing at home.

I love hiking, the smell of the forest, and the warmth of the sun on my body. And even though I don't do this a lot, I like TV marathons, but they would be much nicer and more frequent if I had someone to cuddle with.

9. Who is just a pinch of macho.
Complete turn on if he pulls me in hard for a kiss. Sue me.

10. Who is a little bit jealous.

My wish is to catch him staring down dudes who are checking me out. I would totally melt inside.

Bonus: Has a big penis.
Kidding. If he meets the criteria above, we'll find a way to make it work ;) :p

Exception: If he happens to look like Channing Tatum, there's no need to check off this list. Just give him my cell, classroom number, or address immediately.

Thanks so much in advance :)

Blame it on PMS

I couldn't help feeling like the ugly girl the last couple of times I went out with my friend. I was literally the one wingmen were hitting on.

"My friend saw your friend across the room and wanted to talk to her," one of them said to me.
Looking at the main dude, I told him, "She's right there. Go for it."

Even when they didn't have a wingman, they went through me first.
"Ask your friend if she'll dance with me," another one said.
And like a moron, I relayed the message only for my buddy to shake her head.

I didn't know what was wrong with me. I had always been told I was beautiful. I know that sounds conceited but that is the exact reason I don't believe in complimenting little girls for their looks, because we believe and hold on to those statements. I found myself doubting what appeared to be a lifetime of lies as I sat on a stool sipping on a margarita while my friend danced the night away. I have never been one to call attention to myself or post selfies so the number of Likes I receive can boost my ego. On the contrary, I just recently started accepting praise rather than humbly contradicting people's kind words. I will admit, though, that I assumed my physical appearance would draw dozens of men but they were obviously looking for something else.

Knowing looks were only half the charm, I followed the advice I found in Cosmo about how not to intimidate guys to raise my odds. I sat tall (to exude confidence) with a smile on my face (to appear friendlier). I didn't cross my arms (the gesture that apparently keeps men at arm's length) and made eye contact (says I'm available and/or interested). But the appearance/body language combo didn't bring more than a handful of men to me. They bypassed me all night to ask my friend out instead. And it's not that I was jealous of her. I really wasn't. I just wanted to know what was wrong with me. Naturally, I deconstructed myself, trying to identify what was keeping the dancers at bay.

1. I wore my hair wrong. Despite knowing that guys were turned on by long, luscious hair, I opted for the ponytail due to lack of preparation time. And even when I let it down, I ended tying it up because I got hot and sweaty and I always opted for comfort. 2. My eyes looked tired. I had gotten up at 6:30am and didn't have time to fit a nap in before the salsa class at 8:30pm. 3. My boobs were too small. The girls took a big hit when I lost weight last summer. 4. My butt was almost nonexistent. I strategically bought dresses, skirts, and jeans that didn't make me look like a board but even I couldn't turn away from the bootylicious options available. 5. I had chicken legs. I have been self conscious about my stems since the sixth grade after one of the few white-ish kids in my predominantly Hispanic elementary school told me I had chicken legs. I've been working out on my tippy toes and doing a lot of calf exercises trying to reverse that. 6. My hair was too dark. Guys like blondes and, well, that ain't ever gonna happen. 7. My voice was not girly enough. 8. I was too tall. Even without heels. 9. I looked mad even when I smiled; guys could sense my phoniness through my teeth. 10. I was just, plainly put, ugly. Men were just not attracted to my face.

For all of those reasons, I ended up with my friend's leftovers on two occasions. She didn't send them to me. They came on their own since I was the only single girl not dancing. One guy talked my ear off about his girlfriend/non-girlfriend. And another one made small talk about the 90s' TGIF lineup (can you say Step By Step, Dinosaurs, or Hangin' With Mr. Cooper?). They stood or sat with me for a couple of hours until closing time. While they ran their mouths, I enviously looked on to the happy couples on the dance floor. Neither fool took my hints. That was until they needed a break. We danced one song a piece before getting back to their conversations.

I was upset because A) I had gone to the club to dance while those guys wanted to chat and B) They prevented other men from asking me out. Did I tell them anything, though? No. That's because they entertained me. And since I'm shy, they took the pressure off from having to go through the formalities of meeting anyone else each night. So why I am complaining? Because I felt like I got the short end of the stick. I am a unicorn. I live in my fantasies. The dudes who came into my lives two hours at a time seemed to be unicorns too. I didn't want another unicorn. I wanted someone who was going to push me, take me out of my comfort zone, teach me and make me try new things. The guys who talked to me were male versions of myself only worse because they vented about their former relationships, something even I know very well not to do upon meeting someone.

My findings were thus inconclusive. I wasn't sure if I attracted the broken man, if I was ugly, or if I was just overreacting as a result of PMS. Maybe it was all of the above. Either way, my luck has to improve.

I was bloated that day. Can someone please Photshop this picture?

Too Conscious Fashion

I hate shopping. I very much dislike the act of heading to the store, finding parking, and having to search through hundreds of racks for the perfect item/price combo to take home. Most people don't believe me when I say this because I clean up well, if I do say so myself. I can't tell you how many times a coworker has asked me where I bought my top only to leave her in disbelief when I say, "I got it at Ross for five bucks." 

It doesn't matter if I'm going to a wedding or the beach, outfits pop into my head on a fashion designer's sketch pad as soon I know where I'm going. The problem is that they need to magically appear in my closet too. I conjure up the cutest ensembles for every occasion only to realize that my closet is devoid of them. Those designs are my only motivation for hitting the teenybopper-filled stores and their Selena Gomez (versus the original Selena Quintanilla-Perez, thank you very much) infused musical selections blasting in the dressing rooms. But it's my unwillingness to shell out more than $15 per piece of clothing that makes my ideas impossible to realize sometimes; shoes and dresses fall under a different category, though, no need to worry.

Since I have no friends in LA, thus no plans, I reserve all of my shopping needs for my bi-monthly stays there when I visit my parents. My stay-at-home and shopaholic mother reminds me of the classic Mervyn's commercials ("Open. Open. Open.") every Friday night as she prepares her itinerary for the weekend. After dinner, it never fails that she asks, Where are you going tomorrow, putting the emphasis on me because, you know, shopping is my thing. And do not give her the benefit of the doubt. She never refers to a hiking trail or the club I plan on tagging along with my sister to. She means which mall--Stonewood, Lakewood, Glendale Galleria, Cerritos-- or shopping center-- Downey, Pico Rivera, Montebello-- I will be taking her to the next day.

Against my instinct to take a hike, literally (although I've been doing staircase hikes on Saturday mornings with Jackie's friends), I go prepared for the grand ol' time I'll be having in the dressing rooms all weekend. Wide or v-neck tee shirts or button ups are essential so I won't mess up my hair and makeup too much. Skirts or shorts are a breeze to slide on and off the body. And anything I can kick off my feet, like boots or sandals, help the entire process go by much faster.

Once equipped, I head out to my "favorite" shopping center in Downey if I'm lucky. This is one of the few cities that houses a DSW where 99% of my purchases come from its clearance racks. Ross, Marshall's, and G-Stage also call this place home. If you are a professional shopper, you know that the first two stores only allow you to try eight items at a time. Therefore, I usually have to take two trips. On a good day, I'll come out with a few items, my record being ten blouses. The next day we change it up, taking our clearance search to the racks at JCPenney and Macy's at an indoor mall.

The best, though, is when, instead of shopping, I meet friends for dinner AND they give me clothes. My friends are also fashion savvy and their gifts are always an asset to my repertoire. Just take a look at the blouse I wore to the beach a few weeks ago. Receiving beautiful clothes is as close as it's going to get to having them magically appear in my closet.

It irks me that shopping is such a necessity for my mental health. I can lose my cool in less than five seconds if my visions don't follow through, mostly because I don't own what I see in my head and what I have doesn't give it justice. When this happens, I want to punch a wall and scream my lungs out. Because I rent and not own my place, all I can do it stand still and clench my fists until the rage dissipates. Then I take a deep breath and start at square one again. It is then that I wish I knew how to sew. All of my styles would be unique and I would also make comfortable but stylish teacher's shoes (Why hasn't anyone thought of that yet?!!!). But that won't be entirely necessary because I'll be able to send my visions to a 3D printer in a couple of years and strut original ideas versus the options a cheapskate like me has to work with. Until then, I hope the mornings I rip blouses off their hangers and fling them behind me towards my bed continue to be sparse so I can continue to enjoy more time outdoors where my clothes and I belong.

Location: Botanical Gardens @ UCR
Sunglasses: Versace, $150, at least three years old
Earrings: gift from Darcie although it was HER wedding
Watch: Bulova, $250, my first splurge when I started working
Thumb ring: Nothing But Silver store... remember those?
Necklace: Bday or Xmas gift from Yesica, a few years back
Top: JCPenny clearance
Skirt: Ross
Orange bracelet: student

Boots: Cathy Jean, Fall 2013, $70

Location: Corona Del Mar
Hat: JCPenny
Top: Bday gift from Maria this year from Marshall's
Belt: $15 at Target from 2004
Jeans: American Eagle, $30
Sandals: Target, probably $10, at least five years old. 

Location: Sturtevant Falls
Car: Jeep, priceless
Top: Ross
Sports Bra: Marshall's
Backpack: Camelbak, xmas gift
Flannel: Target clearance
Yoga pants: don't remember
Hiking Shoes: Bear Paw, Big 5, $25

A Week Off

I took last week off from Curves and eating healthy because: 1. My birthday celebration came and went and I no longer had to worry about wearing a crop top and 2. I hadn't been feeling well for a while. 

St. Patrick's Day marked the one month anniversary since [WARNING: TMI. IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH, I SUGGEST YOU SKIP DOWN TO THE PICTURES NOW.] my week-long bout with diarrhea. It came out of no where, figuratively speaking. I arrived at my place at three in the morning after celebrating my friend's birthday in Palm Spring. I went straight to bed and woke up at eight, planning on getting more shut eye as soon as I saw the time. Just as I closed my eyes, though, I remembered that it was another friend's birthday and called her before I forgot. When we hung up, I went to the restroom so I could be ready for my second round of sleep and there it was, diarrhea. No sign, no cramping, no sudden pang to hit the toilet. It just appeared. So I recollected what I had eaten the day before-- left over lasagna and salad, lots of bread, pita chips, and the most expensive piece of chicken I'd ever eaten at a steakhouse, and a shot of Patron and a margarita at the club. I had nothing weird or out of the ordinary for me. So I made yerbabuena tea, hoping it would work its magic during my nap. I woke up at one--I had never in my life woken up at one-- and to my disappointment, Diarrhea was still present. So I went to Target and got generic Pepto. But my loose bowel movements were active two days later and I started to panic. I knew it was something more serious than just an upset stomach. I emailed my doctor and when I got no response, I spoke to a nurse on day five. She suggested more home remedies so I loaded on Gatorade and Imodium AD. The imodium didn't constipate me like it had done years before and on day seven, I took Alka-Seltzer per my mother's request as my last resort. By that afternoon, I felt so lightheaded I was scared to stand. Based on my own presumption that I was dehydrated, I headed to urgent care. The nurse took my blood pressure twice. I had hoped for an IV or another form of nutrient replacement but all the doctor prescribed were more diarrhea pills and requested stool samples. 

The diarrhea disappeared the following day, no thanks to the pills. But I continued feeling dizzy at work. I thought my body was weak from losing so many fluids and I was concerned enough to email my doctor again. Because I felt better towards the end of the work week, I told the nurse to ignore my message when she returned my call.  By the weekend, though, I was also feeling nauseous. I even took a nap to feel better but the living room spun as I laid on the couch. I called my doctor on Monday morning and made an appointment for the afternoon.

Once there, the nurse took my blood pressure at least three times. She asked me to relax, to stand, and a second girl clipped a white clothespin looking thing to my finger until my pressure came out normal. Once I saw the doctor, he diagnosed me with vertigo.

I have family members with vertigo. It causes dizziness. I learned that it is an infection in the ear that interferes with balance. I was heartbroken. I was scared it would be a condition that would be with me for rest of my life. But the doctor said it would go away in a few days. He gave me a cheat-sheet with more info and instructions for an exercise regimen that would help it go away. It said vertigo could last days or weeks. I'd already been dizzy for two weeks as I sat on the bed in the doctor's office. Since then, I've only felt "normal" a handful of days. But I'm not so sure it's vertigo I have anymore as much as hypochondria. Because my blood pressure was low both times I visited the doctor, I now think I might have low blood pressure.

That's why I threw away my routine. My body needed a break from all the health drama. I also wanted to replace my sugar and salt levels that might have decreased during the diarrhea incident. The binge eating began the day after the use of my crop top. I started with a bag of Ruffles with sour cream and chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast. Everything else just fell into place: pupusas, California rolls, tri-tip sliders and mimosas, penne pasta in pesto, pizza and beer accompanied by a Clipper game, all the hummus dip at a farmer's market, Flamin' Hot Lays, organic carrot cakes, chilaquiles con chile verde, sopes, and beans, beans, beans! 

I felt better this past weekend. The dizzy spells come and go. Again, I don't know if they're real or if I'm making myself sick. So I made a follow-up appointment to discuss the low blood pressure issue and requested a physical. I'll know next week if I'm crazy or not. In the meantime, I took it upon myself to reverse the effects of my free week. I accepted my sister's invite to climb hundreds of steps in the Hollywood hills last Saturday. Despite my two-week absence from the gym, I did pretty good. I am ready to take over my life again and do what I love to do, which is to be one with nature. See you out there!

First set of stairs.

Fakin' it till she made it!

The houses reminded me of Danish town Solvang.

House on stilts. 

Second staircase. 

Selfie.

Beautiful!

Meant to take a selfie with the Hollywood sign in the background. FAIL! 

Que purti, mi sister!

Third set. 

I thought it was a dead baby bird.

This one is for Ms. Irene. 

Fourth staircase. 

View from the top.

My Mary Poppins shot.

I liked the gargoyle.

Castle, anyone?

Hollywood reservoir... who knew?

We actually found some dirt!

Jackie: There are so many trails here!
Me: That's the one we just came from.
Blonde moment number one.

Yes, it's just a reservoir. Yes, it's man-made. But it's still amazing. 

You can barely make out the Hollywood sign.

The girl on the right thought I was younger than Jackie. Music to my ears. Never fails. 

Sure enough, there they were, playing. 

Spotted these flowers after Jackie said, "That's a huge iguana." And we all clarified, "Jackie, that's a squirrel."