How was my date?

I know you’re all wondering, how did my date go? Well, it didn’t happen and that was on my own accord. It’s not that I wasn’t ready to start dating again, rather quite the opposite. I am more than willing to be swept off of my feet again and it’s for this exact reason that I cancelled.

Two weeks ago we started talking, and he was wonderful. We held fantastic conversation, and he seemed like someone who could actually catch my attention. Then after a few days when he didn’t ask for a date, I asked him out because I actually have the balls to. Well he said he’d love to, and we planned on going to a local bar that I love going to. So where did it go wrong? He didn’t text me after that. Five days went by which meant two more days before our scheduled date so I texted him to confirm, and he said we were absolutely still on so I felt a little better. Aaaaaand then he didn’t text me at all for two more days. So come Sunday morning (the day we were supposed to meet) and I waited for him to text me to make sure we were still on, or even just see if I was still fucking alive. Well come 3 hours before the date and I didn’t hear a goddamn word so what did I do? I texted him and told him I just wasn’t feeling well and that I couldn’t make it. I totally lied, which I kind of wish I just told him exactly how it was but figured it was his place to find out why I cancelled. He told me to feel better, and it’s been silence ever since.

Now am I ashamed? Absolutely not, and just for the reason I stated above. I’ve honest to god been with so many fuckboys that love to waste my time that I won’t even spend a couple hours with someone on a first date if I see even one red flag. His red flag was simply the effort he was, or wasn’t, willing to put into getting to know me. If he doesn’t want to get to know me, then nor do I. Just because we had a date planned doesn’t mean he had it in the bag so I waved goodbye and am onto the next.

In this dating game, we have to know exactly what we want and what we’re willing to deal with. It ain’t a pretty world out there, and that’s okay… we just need to stick to our mission. Mine? To find a man who is man enough to date someone as much as me. Yeah I’m needy, have high standards, and have a mean glare if you cross me but baby I know for damn sure I’m worth it. In the words of my hot therapist, “it’s time you let a man in who is man enough to know what he’s winning with you”. Ya damn skippy beard man, ya damn skippy.

-Your sassy (and just fine being single) blogger, Gabby

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The Era of Dating Has Begun

Look out y’all! Gabby is going on a date tomorrow, and she is kind of excited and maybe also a little terrified. It’s been over a year since I went on a date with someone I didn’t already know and I am already wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into but no stopping me now, I won’t let myself bail. Let me tell you what I expect from this date.

First off, let me start by saying that people’s comments on his looks are HILARIOUS. Of course I had to show his Bumble profile to my friends, and this is a compilation of reactions- “Why does he look so sad?!” “Why are you going on a date with a black bear?!” “His beanie makes him look like he belongs on the Burnside Bridge” and last but not least, “Now THAT was a hard Mexican U-Turn from your usual” which of course all had me dying of laughter… And they’re all kind of true. I will admit, he is not my usual type (tall with blue eyes and blonde hair), but something about him clicks with me! He’s got a scruffy beard (the bear comment), indeed has really sad eyes (which I must say sucked me in for some reason), and wears work boots in all of his pictures. He’s definitely a hard Mexican u-turn from the usual basic fuckboys out here but I have a good feeling about him.

Why, you  may ask? At one point we were talking about our drinks of choice and his is whiskey (I mean is anyone surprised?), and mine of course was wine. I started talking about how fascinated I am even with the process of how wine is made, and how I dream of owning my own vineyard one day. Of course after I babbled on I said “but anyways I could go on for decades about wine” and instead of changing the subject as I expected him to he said “well shit, tell me more then”. That one comment instantly made me realize I would be down for a date, and made me really excited. Show me one guy who is selfless enough to let his girl go on about a topic that she loves? Anyone? I didn’t think so.

So yes, I may be going on a date with a cute, and sad bear of sorts but I am stoked. I’m expanding my horizons y’all, so who knows what kind of man I’ll end up with next. Stay tuned, I’ll post an update on Monday about how it went.

P.S. We’re going to my go-to hole in a wall bar where groups of men hang out after a hard day of work and it’s totally not a date spot. Now let’s see how he can handle himself in a game of pool against me, and how strong he takes his drink.

Cheers!

-Gabby

My Truth

Today I started therapy for the first time in years, and it was absolutely freeing. We didn’t even dive into the nitty gritty of the shit show that is my life, but even just having to confront my issues in order to tell him why I was there was just what I needed.

It’s time to speak my truth, and I know I’ve mentioned in the last few blog posts how vulnerable I have been and here it is again. I am bathing in what feels like my own blood and tears. I have no other choice but to hurt like hell, and be brutally honest. Here’s what the last year of my life has been like.

In June of last year I lost my dad. We didn’t have the best relationship growing up, but as I got older he became my rock and as I’ve continued on without him I realize how much I truly am just like him. He never failed to tell me that, but I never really saw past our relationship problems to see them until now. After he passed, we dealt with the whirlwind of legal issues that followed. After that, I started seeing one guy. And another. And then a guy from my past. And then ANOTHER guy from my past (the one I always write about. The ex that was my first love. The one that broke my heart… more than once). That was my most recent one, and I touched briefly about him in my last blog post that stayed up for less than 24 hours. I ended up deleting it because he and I broke up again. Yes again, for like the 7th time. I know…

So let me just touch on that briefly before I move on. I highly doubt that you will see any more blog posts about him, even just referring to past love. Though I have many years of my life that were golden due to him, I also have a lot of darkness with him and I realized that in this last week. In today’s session with my therapist while discussing the break up, he noticed I started rubbing my stomach a bit and asked how I was doing. He can already tell that it’s really hard for me to dive deep… except in my writing of course. I let him know that every time I think of him or talk about him I begin to feel physically sick to my stomach and he said “is it because you miss him, or because he makes you sick?” and I laughed… and then I thought about it and for the first time in my life I was very confident when I said “it’s not because I miss him.” and I have never been able to say that I didn’t miss him. After the words we exchanged, it’s clear that our love is one that will stay in my memories, but at this point in our lives we both want and strive for very different things from a relationship. So that’s done.

After realizing today that the last year has been filled with relationship after relationship, I am honestly exhausted. My therapist asked me another question that really piqued my attention. He said, “is your self esteem better or worst now than it was about a month ago?” and I was really amazed by my answer. Though I’ve had a lot of struggles in this last week while mourning a relationship that I never realized would actually die, I had more self esteem than I did while I was in a relationship. It’ll end up being another thing I work on over time, but it’s interesting that my self esteem is higher when I’m alone. It’s something that should absolutely remain consistent, but again the power to open my eyes has really given me the ability to morph things I didn’t realize needed to be changed.

I guess the moral of this post is to say that it’s really my time to be honest with myself, and find my path. I’ve felt lost for a long time, and I look forward to the coming months that will allow me to ease into dating (I SAID EASE. DON’T GET EXCITED NOW) and discovering what really fills my cup. I hope you’re all able to brutally honest with yourself, whether it makes you sick to your stomach or not, and join me in this exciting journey. I appreciate all of you, and I know this blog will help me get there. Who knows, maybe I’ll end up writing about something else because it seems like relationships and dating are not my forte. Watch out y’all, the possibilities are endless.

P.S. My therapist is super hot, and has a rocking beard.  P.P.S. He’s married, so don’t get any ideas. No Hallmark movies happening here.

-Gabby

 

Trade you a bouquet for a shot

It’s a Monday, and I’m three glasses of wine in so here we are! Of course, when I’m feeling loose and a little funny I gravitate towards my blog and my readers. I love you guys… Can you tell I’m the lovey drunk? LOL!

So today I’m here to talk about why being out of a toxic relationship is honestly so great. I’ve been listening to a few of my friends who are currently struggling a bit with their relationship, and I must admit… I am not at all envious. As much as I love being single, I honestly enjoy being in a relationship as well but hearing the ones floating around these days is not giving me a whole lot of hope. After being their ear and shoulder, I’ve made a single observation. They stay because they’re scared of having to try again.

Whether it’s their age, or the fact that they’ve been with that person for so long it seems impossible to actually end it. It’s too easy to say “It could get better” and a lot freaking harder to say “I need more than this”. I’ve noticed it in particular with women because we’re raised in a society that says you have to be married by 26 and kids by 28. It’s impossible to ignore these pressures when you’re constantly thinking about how your ovaries are going to shrivel up at any moment and suddenly you’re stuck with yourself for the rest of your life. What a way to live.

Honestly I don’t judge my friends, I feel for them. I find the best words I have to try to convince them that they deserve so much more than some guy who constantly says he needs more time to propose, or a guy who says he’ll do better as soon as he gets a better paying job. But it’s hard, and I get it. I’ve been there. When is the right time to give up without regretting it? At what point do you transition from “we just need to communicate better” to “this is simply not working out”. It’s impossible to know when  the best time is, and it’s impossible to know if you’ll regret leaving that person in the long run. Add in external pressures such as “you need to have kids before you have nothing else to live for” and suddenly it feels like the moment you have to dive for the flower bouquet at a wedding in hopes you even catch a fucking petal. By the way, who even came up with that tradition? Can we just take shots instead?

Long story short, witnessing my friends settle for disappointment and a memory of love makes me so sad. I wish they could see themselves in my eyes, and I wish their boyfriend could too. But unfortunately, humans are beings of action rather than reflection. It takes a multitude of someone screwing up rather than deciding to move on. Trust me, I’ve been guilty of this 5/5 times. I’m no better, and I want to clarify that. I love too much, and give too many chances. But at the end of the day, I am not scared at all of being alone and I wish that others felt the same. Let me tell you- it’s a lot easier to be happy alone rather than disappointed and committed.

On to the next glass of wine, and listening to some more Common in this gorgeous sunshine. Enjoy your evening y’all, and to my girls who read this and feel a little ping in their heart… I love you guys, and I just want you to see yourselves the way I see you. Gorgeous, ambitious, strong, whole hearted, and YOU. I love you guys.

-Tipsy Gabby

 

 

Pain VS. Love

I saw a post on Facebook today that said “true love always finds a way to come back”, and I thought a lot about this. Out of curiosity, I looked at the comments on this post and found many reactions. Many people said that if it was true love to begin with than it wouldn’t have left. Others said that they were currently living that time because of the wrong timing in the past making that love to fail, in that moment. Now, what do I think?

I believe that true love does indeed have a way of finding its way back. I believe this due to the fact that after being in love once, and being without that love for 3 years, nothing has really changed about my love for him. In these 3 years, my life has changed in so many ways. I’m more successful in my career, have experienced losing my dad, have fought many health issues on my own, lost and cultivated other strong relationships in my life, and have learned what makes me so great. Even though everything has changed, that feeling of love has not. Maybe that means I’m weak, but I like to think that it means what he and I had was real.

Now does it find a way of coming back? From my experience, yes. I’ve had changes in my own body when he was in pain, even though I didn’t know it. I would go weeks without thinking about him, and suddenly feel a pain in my chest and then come to find out he was going through a difficult time in his life. If that feeling of love roots itself in to my being, than of course it would find a way to return eventually. The next question to ask is, is it worth it?

Let’s say he did somehow return to my life, would the pain I felt be worth the love I feel? I think this would be different for every single person. For myself, I have always been one that bathes in my own vulnerability which makes me weaker in some ways, and stronger in others. I think for others they simply wouldn’t allow themselves to dabble with the idea. It’s embarrassing to open yourself up to hurt again, and of course it’s risky. If you hurt once, you’ll hurt again.

So is it worth it? If i’m honest, I don’t think that I will ever have the answer to this question. I don’t know if the pain would be worth the love, but what I do know is that it’s more than that. It’s not as simple as pain vs. love. In my case I did indeed experience pain and love, though I also experienced what it’s like to be challenged. I experienced pure happiness in just smiling at him, and felt what it was like to be 100% in sync with someone. So for me, when I think about if he were to walk in to my life again it’s difficult for me to simply look at “is he going to hurt me again?”. I think to myself “If I were to walk away, would I live with myself knowing it was my choice to drop love?” I don’t think I would.

Here’s to love.

-Gabby… A.K.A the girl who’s still obsessed with love.

Single, and Obsessed With Love

I am my past, and it has guided me. That’s what I’ve learned in my 22 years of life, and thus far has not failed me. I’ve learned from things that have happened to me as well as situations I’ve been in and it has influenced the decisions that I make to this day. In my past, I struggled with voicing exactly what I needed from a relationship, and I’ve gotten much better at doing that today.

I know you that last you knew I was in a committed relationship with a wonderful man who met all 5 of my non-negotiables, which is true. But it didn’t work out. This just goes to show that things don’t always go according to plan, and a list of what you need in your significant other is not enough, nor is love. Love is a beautiful, hardly attainable being in itself that is definitely worth fighting for, but the problem in my last relationship was that I wasn’t in love.

I wanted to be, but I wasn’t. I was met with impossible decisions near the end when I realized I woke up in the morning prepared to justify why our relationship wasn’t making me happy. I was used to being disappointed by my lack of emotion, as well as the lack of effort on his part. He may read this, and I hope that I don’t hurt him, but I must be honest. That is my commitment I’ve made to this blog and to my readers. I am genuine, honest, as well as vulnerable. I was in a relationship that I really wanted to work out, but it just wasn’t meant to be. He was attentive, giving, and perfect for somebody else… Just not me.

Today, I thought a lot about how I wanted to reach out to all of you. To write to all of you. But I just didn’t know what I wanted to write about. I haven’t been seeing anybody else, and haven’t gone on any dates so what advice did I have to give? Well here’s my advice.

Be true to yourself. You are your past, and you have learned whether consciously or subconsciously about what you need based on relationships you’ve had in the past. What I learned is that years ago I was deeply in love, and though it hurt towards the end, it’s certainly something I’d like to strive for again. An ex-boyfriend of mine years ago once told me “You’re obsessed with the idea of love”, and maybe I am. Maybe I am eager to feel that love again, but maybe I crave what I’ve once felt in the past. Maybe I want to feel like my soul belongs to someone else. I am true to myself and can realize that if I am going to be with someone, I need that consuming love. Mediocracy is not in my vocabulary, so why should I advocate for it? I didn’t, I haven’t, and I will not.

I am convinced that we are independent beings created to thrive on our own. I am additionally convinced that the only time we can become higher than the highest potential of our own being is when we have a significant other that lifts us up. Call me unrealistic or cheesy, but I am pretty convinced that my view about this will never change. I am my past, and my past has taught me that anything worth living for is worth suffering through. Have a good night y’all, and I can’t wait to be back with you guys. I love being single with all of you. ❤

P.S. I am newly blonde, so there’s that!

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-Gabby (single and obsessed with love)

“Oh my god… Is that him?”

“Oh my god, is that him?!” we’ve all said it to ourselves a time or two when we thought we saw our ex in public, but then we realize that it’s actually possible for another guy to have the same shirt as our ex. But what happens if it’s actually not a false alarm? Suddenly the back of this guy looks really freaking familiar, and you swear you’ve seen that mole on his ear before. Is that really him?! You ask yourself.. Yes, why yes it is. Mayday, mayday, mayday, it’s time for world war 3 people and we are ready for intelligent warfare. This is not a drill people, time to conjure every single hurt emotion this man has caused.

It’s like it’s all happening in slow motion. You realize that this man actually is your ex, and you suddenly take a mental inventory of what you’re wearing. “Seriously  bitch, you’re wearing your fucking bad yoga pants in public? WHY DID YOU NEED ICE CREAM RIGHT NOW?!” and then the worst happens. He feels your stare on his back, and it’s like you see the rest in slow motion. You’re thinking about the way your hair looks like a baby gorilla’s, and he and his disgustingly shiny hair is turning slowly. You begin to see the corner of his mouth and remember the way it felt against your own, and then suddenly your staring square into his eyes. His eyes light up, and you’re preparing for every decent response to “how have you been?!’ which could include “depressed and drunk” or “better without you”, and even “fine. Thanks, bye.”

Now at this point in this inconvenient rendezvous, your conversation could go about 1 of 3 ways. You realize what you miss and begin to question every decision you’ve made since you split, you feel so much better off and add an extra pop to your hips when you walk away, or you feel nothing at all (when does this ever happen? Seriously.)

Pause for a minute. This morning while I was at work we all began delving in to the past when he had mistakenly run in to our exes, and though I didn’t hear a separate story to fit each category,  I am pretty confident that I am right. One of my coworkers ran in to her ex today when she was at Safeway and he would NOT let her walk out of that store without a background story of her life’s happenings. She honestly tried so hard to get out of that situation, like when you hear those stories about ordering a top secret shot at the bar when you’re on a bad date that calls them an Uber, but he was not having it. She did the classic chick move. Throw your head down, hope that he doesn’t recognize your walk, ignore his desperate calls of your name, and EVACUATE. He wasn’t having it. He, I shit you not, followed her out of the store and refused to let her walk away before he knew that perhaps he wasn’t the only miserable one without her. Boy, was he wrong. After their conversation, and finding out he worked a few blocks from her favorite lunch spot, she vowed to step up her work game, throw on the falsies, and look DAMN good when she saw him next.

Now, this is what I was referring to earlier. It wasn’t that she necessarily had anything against him, but there’s something satisfying about knowing that you look jaw-dropping when potentially running in to your ex. If she seems him at the salad bar tomorrow, all he’ll be able to do is stare at her ass while popping cherry tomatoes on his salad. Sorry bud, but this is what you missed out on, and damn right I am doing much better without you.

Unfortunately when I saw my ex in public almost a year ago, this is not the reaction I had, though it was a little similar. I saw him at a car show (I should have known it would happen) and silly me was pointing at a car directly behind him when my best friend realized I happened to be pointing directly at my ex boyfriend. I remember that I had recognized his shirt in the moment, but it was a car shirt so I thought “every guy probably has that shirt”. Now, in this moment, it was just as described above. Horrible, in slow motion, and nightmare causing for the following weeks. As I’m pointing at a GTR behind him  my best friend says “Gabby, stop. That’s him”. Of course I am oblivious as shit as to what’s going on (when am I not?) and I then lock eyes with him. This is one of those moments that you reflect one. What did his eyes say? Why did he instantly drop his girlfriends hand when he locked eyes with me? And of course, why did I gape at his girlfriend with an open mouth? Well luckily in my situation, I gaped at her because she did not look like the girl I had remembered from stalking his Facebook.

My experience was different than my coworkers in that her ex had known what he missed out on, whereas my ex and myself included refused to admit that we had seen each other. Instead I acted like I didn’t see him race a car, and he acted like he hadn’t been awed by my beauty causing him to drop his girlfriends hand (yes, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it)

Moral of the story, when you see your ex and you begin questioning what you’re wearing, why you decided on this day to skip flossing, or why you gained that extra 10 pounds just remember this; they were in love with you for a reason and if they saw you in public somewhere, they are wondering about you. He went home, and he questioned every part of his life, whether consciously or subconsciously, and even if you aren’t proud of the size of your ass right now, you better ROCK that thing back and forth when walking away.

Work it ladies!

My best,

The girl who lost 30 pounds and looked really fucking good when I saw my ex *hair flip*

Baby, I’m All In

Daniel and I are currently in the honeymoon stage, and having both had serious relationships in the past we’re both stretching out this stage as long as we can. The problem? We’re also really good at doing the married shit.

We definitely have most aspects of the honeymoon stage down. We are actually professionals, and could teach a course on how to be absolutely adorable. We are that couple that has disgustingly cute secret looks we share, photos of us kissing, long phone calls when we’re away from each other, and of course the Facebook Official status. No seriously, just look at us-

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Now that you see what I mean, let me explain why I said we’re good at the whole “marriage” part of a relationship. Two weeks into our relationship he came over to my moms to help her cut down a tree and chop wood. This weekend we’re planning on hanging out at his new house, and hanging up drapes. Like, what?

Though it may not typically be a part of the honeymoon stage, I actually find solace in it. It’s relieving to me because when I’m in the honeymoon stage, I overthink every single part of my relationship. I mentioned in my last post that I am completely genuine with him, which I am, but I also hide many of my fears. One example is that I was worried about asking him if he wanted to be Facebook official even though we had both made it pretty clear to each other that we were exclusive. I was worried that he was worried about what his friends or family would think. Shit, I was worried about what they would think of me. Would I be as pretty as his exes? Would they see my age and assume I was too young and immature for him? Just a few reasons why I didn’t even bother asking.

Anyways, last night a pretty incredible thing happened. Daniel and I were on the phone and he brought the whole Facebook official thing up himself. He asked me if I was ready, and expressed that he was worried that I would be freaked out by our pace. I guess he has gotten to know me pretty well, huh? I giggled, wiped imaginary sweat off of my forehead and said “baby, I’m all in”.

Now, writing this post I feel very silly. What a problem for a millennial, am I right? As silly as it is, these are real things that millennials are concerned about! We are surrounded by the vision of other happy couples on Facebook (currently me and my boo), and feel the need to live up to those same expectations! The problems are not real, though they are there at the forefront of our minds. These are problems that typically arise in the honeymoon stage, and they are problems I don’t really don’t know how to face.

The marriage shit though? I have that down! Do we fight over who took the garbage out last? No, but at least if we did I would know how to handle it… *cue the Gabby glare and eyebrow raise* It’s in the longer relationship and the actual problems where I feel I shine most. I am good at listening to my SO’s problems, and hoping to offer valuable advice. I’m better at choosing drapes than I am at meeting family and planning busy weekends full of adventures. I’m better at those things because I did them all before, and honestly I don’t really remember how to simply fall. I only remember the dread I felt after falling.

In the midst of all of these realizations, I am recognizing one thing. The honeymoon stage may be a bit more difficult for me, but it’s just another opportunity for me to grow. In this stage with Daniel, I’ve learned trust. When he doesn’t answer my texts right away or text me as soon as he’s off work I don’t automatically jump to conclusions like I used to. In fact, I just put my phone down and busy myself with my own responsibilities. This stage of our relationship when we only see each other on weekends gives me the ability to continue cultivating friendships, my own lifestyle, and makin’ dat money of course.

So, moral of the story… Whether we stay in the honeymoon stage or practice dipping our toes in the marriage style of relationships, baby I am all in.

Goodnight y’all.

-Gabby

Fabulously Taken

Every time I turn on my computer to write, the first thing I do is turn on my Pandora and this time when I did “Like You’ll Never See Me Again” by Alicia Keys was the first song to start playing. If you’ve heard the song, then you understand what I mean when I say that I instantly felt the tune of it deep into my soul and of course was inspired much  quicker than I normally am. It’s a good day!

So last night I was on the phone with my boyfriend and was talking about how bored I am with life right now. He’s such a sweetheart, he actually sat and brainstormed with me about what hobbies I can begin to alleviate the lack of motivation I had and this blog was the first thing that came to mind. He knew that I have a blog about being single, but we hadn’t quite delved in to it because it’s a bit awkward. How do I explain that I want to write a blog about being single when he and I are seeing where things go? This has been my constant struggle every time I start seeing someone but he had the best idea! He told me that I should start writing about what it’s like in the early stages of being in a relationship… and why the hell wouldn’t I? So no, I am not quitting the blog and yes I’m sure the occasional post about being single will come up (I can’t just forget what I learned). This blog keeps me sane, and it’s definitely not time to let it go.

I figure that you’re all wondering who he is, right? Well his name is Daniel and I really wonder what good things I did in my life to earn the exact man I have been asking for all of these years! Now you may remember the blog post I wrote a few months ago called “5 Non-Negotiables” and if not you can find it right here. Well Daniel and I had met last July and we dated for a few months but didn’t ever make things official. After those few months I had wanted to make things exclusive but he had a lot of things going on and felt he couldn’t give me the time I deserved. I respected that, but I was hurt and wondering what went wrong. I quickly moved past that because my life was crazy at the time while trying to finalize the legalities of my dads passing and getting settled into my promotion at work. We didn’t talk for months and then just last week he asked me to dinner spontaneously. I agreed, because I’m always curious when an ex reaches out but I’ll admit, I had a feeling that this wasn’t just “catching up”. Well, I was right.

While at dinner he dropped quite the bomb on me and came out and told me that he had things figured out in his life, and he wanted to make things exclusive between he and I right there. At first I was completely taken aback. How could we possibly just act like nothing happened?! I wondered what I’d tell my family and friends, and then I wondered if it was dangerous to just jump into things so I told him we could ease into things and date again. Who the fuck was I kidding?

If you know me then you know that I never half ass anything, and my love life is included. Now what I pride about myself is that it takes someone pretty amazing to catch my attention which is why I’ve been single for more than two years. I kind of wondered if I had too high of standards, which I wrote about here but now I realize that I was silly to ever wonder that. I was patient, picky, and why would I half ass being with this man who is every single thing I’ve ever asked for. He meets every single one of my 5 non-negotiables so well that he actually said to me “I know it sounds crazy but you’re exactly what I want and when I want something I go after it”… UM, DID I NOT SAY THAT WAS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING TO ME?! I am still flabbergasted. Now I am still trying to be a little cautious, but I’ve gotten to know Daniel pretty well and I am pretty confident that his authenticity, caring demeanor, and positivity is exactly what I need in my life.

Needless to say, we jumped into things quickly but I don’t anticipate things going south. Now here’s my advice for those of you in the early stages of a relationship; be with the guy who makes you feel absolutely comfortable being yourself. In my pasts relationships I have constantly wondered “what does he think of me” or “am I talking too much”? Maybe I’ve gotten disgustingly comfortable with myself, but not once have I been self conscious with Daniel. I am constantly open, vulnerable, and myself with him and though that may sound scary to some but it’s actually so relieving. Imagine the tense shoulders, self doubt, and constant over thinking just disappearing. That’s when you know that you have something pretty good in front of you. It’s in those moments when you really get to know the deepest parts of people so if this early on we are completely real with each other, than we are simply setting ourselves up for success.

As I near the end of this post, I began to wonder to myself “I should probably check with Daniel before just writing about our business for the world to see” even though we had already talked about it last night. I shot him a text asking and these were his words, “Of course talk about us as much as you want and how you really feel about it too! Write without holding anything back”. A man who understands how important writing is to me? I think I’ll keep this one around.

Have the best night you guys!

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Fabulously taken,

Gabby

 

 

My Breast Reduction Journey

Hi friends,

This post will be slightly different than you’re used to, and it’s because I feel that in this blog I’ve always strived to be completely vulnerable, authentic, and open to sharing my story and experiences. This is one story that may be long winded, but I feel very committed to sharing. I sincerely hope that this story helps just one other person who perhaps has considered getting a breast reduction. I also hope that it helps others understand why women consider it. So stick around, grab a glass of wine, and enjoy. Just FYI, I’m drinking a glass of Chardonnay while writing this. 😉

When I was in seventh grade, I had my first experience that made me realize I may be much more different than I had considered simply because I had bigger breasts than others my age. I was already well aware that I was more well endowed as all of my girlfriends were pulling out their colorful new A or B-cup bras they had while I was already wearing taupe colored D-cup bras, but this one experience made me realize how truly different my experience through school would be. There was a boy in my elective class who randomly asked me one day, he said “do you get goosebumps on  your chest because your boobs are big?”. Now  when he asked me this I couldn’t even open my mouth. I wondered to myself, “is it abnormal to have goosebumps on my chest?”. That night I went home and asked my mom because I thought something was legitimately wrong. She looked at me with this look in her eyes, like she knew that I’d have one hell of a struggle through my teenage years, and said “no baby, you were just cold. Don’t even talk to that boy”. As that year continued, I was continually sexually harassed by this boy though I never told anyone because it’s normal right? It’s normal to constantly be sexualized because I had big boobs, right? I didn’t know any better.

Throughout the rest of my middle school years, I had three shirts of mine confiscated because I was “distracting others” with my actual uncontrollable cleave (other women with large breasts understand) and was forced to wear my P.E. shirt throughout the whole day and of course this only caused more attention towards my breasts. Throughout those years, I became hard. I got very good at snapping my fingers in front of boys eyes to bring their eyes back to meet mine rather than allow them to drool over my boobs. These years made me realize that the only way I’d survive high school was by being a bitch, and trust me I was remembered this way.

Flash forward to my freshman year of high school, and things were actually different. I was at a new school where I wore my resting bitch face like a shield and boys didn’t bother me as often. Though I was luckier that year, that’s when my back pain started. I distinctly remember one morning when I was laying in bed, too embarrassed to get out of bed to tell my mom I didn’t want to go to school because my back hurt from my boobs. I had no other explanation as I was no longer playing sports, and hadn’t injured myself. That year my mom forced me to start seeing a chiropractor, and that’s when I started my regular adjustments that helped immensely, but only at first. I saw the same chiropractor every four weeks like clock work, and always had my lower back adjusted as well as my neck adjusted. That same year I had my first incident that made me realize I could not live forever like this. I was shopping for my first Homecoming dress, and broke down in the fitting rooms more than once. I remember that the strapless dresses were all the buzz, and that was the only style I could not wear since my breasts seemed to spill out no matter the size of the dress. I even ventured into the adult sections which only made my situation more sobering. I only went to four dances in high school because dress shopping was miserable for me rather than memorable.

High school consisted of continuing experiences of boys brave enough to try to cop a feel, throwing food down my shirt, my friends making jokes that actually hurt me, and twirling in the mirror in the dead of night trying to imagine what I’d look like with smaller breasts. Besides that, I actually consider myself lucky. I was never sexually harassed to the point of feeling unsafe, and it’s especially sad that I consider my situation a lucky one.

The day I realized the gravity of my situation, and how important it was for me to get breast reduction for my own health is when I was visiting my chiropractor when I was 19. He used to have this TV in his office that would play a slideshow of chiropractor philosophies, and I remember reading a quote mentioning that pills were a cover up while chiropractic was a preventive care. When I was finally called to the back we joked our normal bit as we had grown very close, and when I had my face dug in the table I asked “if coming to a chiropractor is preventive care, when does it ever become something I do occasionally rather than regularly” as I was seeing him every 4 weeks, the most my insurance would pay for, and had been seeing him for 5 years. He sighed and said “Gabby I’m sorry but this is something you’ll have to do the rest of your life until you get breast reduction”, and that’s when I had decided. I didn’t need to fathom the risks, or talk to my boyfriend or family, I just said “will you write something for my insurance company, so they can cover it?” and he told me he’d email me that night.

This is when my actual journey begins… or so you’d think. I saw my primary care provider that week, and she told me I needed to lose at least 15 pounds before she could refer me, and insisted that if I lost weight than my boobs would shrink. I was a size 36-F at this point in my life so I knew they weren’t going to shrink but I agreed because I knew I would do anything. I cried that night, blaming myself for eating too much and giving myself these boobs. I cried because I didn’t think I’d ever be able to lose weight because I had tried so many times. I knew I needed inspiration so I talked to my cousin who always understood a deeper part of me and she said the most life changing words. She said, “Gabby you always do whatever you have to do  to get what you want. This is just another one of those moments. You just have to decide to do it, and then you can do it.” and she was absolutely right. Instead of losing 15 pounds, I lost 30 to my surprise. I jumped off the scale at the doctors office with tears in my eyes because I knew it was finally happening. My doctor gleefully approved my referral to a plastic surgeon, then told me to await their call.

I waited for a few days, and then I waited for a few weeks, and then I grew impatient. I called the surgeons office only to hear the receptionist say “the doctor has declined your consultation. I’m happy to have him call you to tell you why” but I declined because I knew if I talked to this man I would say things that I would be ashamed of later. All I could think was “of course it was a man”. I know better now to automatically assume that I was declined this surgery because the surgeon was a man, but I do believe that it was because of my age. I was too young, it was a risky procedure and I still had time to try to fix the problem on my own, even though not a single inch of weight I had lost came from my breasts.

The next year, my mom was gracious enough to move myself and the entire family over to  different insurance coverage and changed all of our doctors. That was last year and four months later I was sitting naked on a hospital bed while my surgeon drew purple lines all over my breasts. It was finally time for my breast reduction, and suddenly I was unsure. I looked over at my mom with what looked like spider webs drawn on my breasts, and I said “is this crazy? Do I really need this?” She snapped a photo of me in that moment, and turned the screen back at me. I had never seen myself in this light as I had never taken a photograph of this nature, at least without a bra on, and was disgusted. You may think I’m exaggerating, but I’m not. I looked sick. I had an hour glass waist that was hid by these globes of fat that were larger in diameter than my actual body. You could see the skin being stretched on my chest, and my veins were bright purple. I looked back up at her  and she said “a lot of people have asked ‘does Gabby really need to do this? Women pay money to have her boobs. Is she just doing this for attention? Does she understand what she’s going through?’ and I told them all to shove it because I know how unhealthy this is for you. You need to do this baby”, and she was absolutely right. Minutes later, I was looking up towards the bright lights and counting backwards from 10 drifting through the anesthesia.

This is where things get a little more interesting because after I woke up, things were NOT easy. Once the anesthesia had diminished enough I kept looking down at my chest constantly thinking “what the fuck did I just do to myself? Look how small they are. I don’t know why I did this. There is literally a hole inside of me so fluids can leak. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck” but I smiled and acted like everything was fine because I had fought SO many people trying to get support for this surgery. I could not act like I regretted my decision, even if for a second. And then, it happened. I got out of the bed to try to walk around a little bit, and I looked down. I didn’t see my cleavage, or even the large bandage covering my breasts. I saw my toes. I shit you not, I saw my toes and I laughed with the glee of a child. I hadn’t even realized that I couldn’t see my toes when I was standing straight before my surgery! From that moment, I knew I made the right decision.

The few days after that were gruesome. The pain set in, but my cousin came to my rescue. This angel took time off of work, out of her life, and came and took care of me as my mom was out of town. She made me food, and took me out to Target when I just needed to get out of the house though she tried to get me to stay in bed. She took me to buy horrendous looking sports bras, and then she held me when I cried because I couldn’t get comfortable for the life of me.

Then the complications started. My stitches that were supposed to dissolve didn’t, and my wound was re-opened. It’s left me with very noticeable and painful scars that I continue to have issues with, and I am actually having corrective surgery for. As I continued to see my surgeon every few days I said to him “is it normal that I still can’t feel my left nipple” and his gaze dropped a bit. That’s the day I realized that this wasn’t just a breast reduction surgery. It was completely reconstructive, as I no longer had any feeling in my left nipple or breast at all, and even now, 11 months later, still have no feeling. Flash forward 3 months past my surgery and we’ve reached yet another complication. I grew a lump in my left breast (I call it my problem child), and just about lost it when my doctor let me know since my father had just passed away from cancer. Luckily, this lump is noncancerous, though still needs to be surgically removed as it’s just a ball of scar tissue sitting inside of my breast.

So here we are. 11 months post surgery, and it’s still pretty damn great. Yes, I may have pain from my scars daily that prevent me from wearing a normal bra, and I may have a lump in my breast as well as no feeling whatsoever in one of them but here’s what I do have-

I have a regular life. I am now a large C, and can wear whatever kind of bikini or dress I want. Sometimes I walk out of the house braless without fear I’ll be stared at, and sometimes I even twirl in the mirror late at night just admiring the fact that I can see my whole body, even if I have about 17 inches of scarring. Now the most important part; my back pain is completely gone. I haven’t gone to see a chiropractor in over a year, and I haven’t had a single back spasm in 11 months. My shoulders no longer have permanent indents from bras, nor do I ever feel immense pain at the end of the day just because they haven’t been stagnant all day. At the end of the day, I had a very complicated and risky surgery, and a lot of those silent risks happened to me. No matter my circumstances, I still stare at myself in the mirror and smile because I no longer have to think so hard about every action I do. I no longer have to hesitate before I go on a run on the street, and I never have to worry about if a crew neck T-shirt still looks too sexual. I’m just here, in the present, enjoying each moment.

I know this was a very long post, and I do thank you for hearing my story. If you know anyone who has ever considered getting a breast reduction surgery please share this with them and encourage them to reach out to me personally through the “contact me” area of my blog. If you’ve ever wondered about my surgery, well here it is. Have a great night everyone.

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Stay beautiful,

Gabby