My Guilty Pleasure

Karaoke. Totally. Every Sunday night, baby. Again, exhibitionistic tendencies, I guess. It's just fun to get up there and sing songs that would never fly in church (which is the only other place I usually sing). My own little American Idol experience, complete with critiquing the other performers. I actually had a "special request" last week, so that was fun... someone wanted me to do "Welcome to the Jungle" again. I try not to do the same stuff every single week. There was one guy who used to do "Baby Got Back" every dang week, until he got 86'ed. I can't say I was sorry to see him go. It was fun the first time, but after that it was just sad. So, I try to mix it up a little: a little Gershwin, a little Heart, throw in a little Beatles, a little G'n'R, whatever else I feel like... it's all good. Weird, but fun. And the people-watching rocks. And I can stare all I want, because you're SUPPOSED to watch them! Oh, yeah! I tried to take a picture of this sa-weet mullet I saw last week, but my camera phone wouldn't zoom in close enough. I was devastated.

American Idol Finale

Can I just say that the highlight of the American Idol finale the other night was not that Taylor won (although I was hoping he would after Chris got booted), but that PRINCE PERFORMED????? He is one sexy dude. Plus, he did two awesome songs from his new 3121 cd: 'Lolita' and 'Satisfied'. I'm not too crazy about his backup singers/dancers, The Twinz. But then, maybe I'm just jealous! What would I do if Prince showed up at my house and offered to sweep me off to his Purple Party Pad in LA? Oh, I'd totally go. Not forever, of course. But I'd totally go.

Should I be offended?

Okay, here's something that bothers me: why are men so focused on how women look, and why are they so pervy about it?

As I said in my profile, I've lost more than 70 lbs in the past 6 months. Suddenly, men are all up in my face, telling me how nice I look, most of them with that gross, leering grin that men get.... yeah, you ladies know the look. The thing that really blows is that many of these men are people I've known for years, and they used to see me as a PERSON. Now the pleasant conversations we had when I was a fatass have been replaced by my struggling to get them to look at my face instead of at my boobs.

What is the deal, I ask you? Now I question the motives of any man who is nice to me, waaaaay more than I did when I was fat. No man is "safe," no friendship is "safe," even my own husband is not "safe." It seems to me that men only want one thing.

Could it have something to do with the way I dress? There are no huge, shapeless garments with camouflaging giant flower prints in the places I shop now. I try not to reveal too much, but I never realized how hard it is to find really modest clothing in a lot of stores. I am just as self-conscious about my appearance now as I was when I was fat.

I guess the thing that set me off today was some little old man at Target that I don't even know. He was absolutely leering at me, staring at my boobs. He even stopped what he was doing to watch me walk past him. What the hell???? YUCK. I didn't say anything, but it took all my self-control not to. I started thinking about how that totally would not have happened last winter, and then I started thinking about how much things have changed, even with guys I've known forever.

I tried talking to a male friend about my feelings a couple months ago, just hoping to get some evidence that I was wrong in my perceptions. His comment was, "You just have to get used to it. It's the way guys are." He then went on to tell me that the solution is for me to get used to the negative attention and live with it. Well, I'm sorry, but that just blows. And it confirmed everything I was feeling.

The old saying is true: Boys are rotten, made of dirty cotton.

Now I'm cool.

Just kidding. I never thought I would be blogging... too exhibitionistic. Yet, here I am. Maybe I am an exhibitionist at heart.

I am in the middle of trying to get my house cleaned up... but am obviously finding excuses not to get it done. Yeah, my life is one big party. Next I'll head on up to the store to pick up laundry detergent, toilet paper, and bottled water. Can you stand the excitement???

So the blog has begun... I may have just created a monster.