dave is awesome, how awesome is dave
not really much to say today; things have been relatively quiet. my mom started school today, so when she got home we went out back-to-school shopping--you know, binders, notebook paper, pencils, and so on. She has a test tomorrow and it was wicked, after 17 years *I* finally got to say "No TV! You have to study!!!" I've been waiting for that moment for basically my whole life.
My life since I've come back, really, is comprised of books and TV. I don't really hang out with anyone, since I'm broke--I was supposed to go out with Heidi and Erin tonight but I don't have the money to fill up my car. TV is way better than I remember, and there's certain nights when I'm watching shows that take up the whole evening. Like on Tuesdays, there's NCIS at 8, My Name is Earl at 9, The Office at 9.30, Nip/Tuck at 10. And Thursdays there's Survivor at 8, CSI at 9, and Without a Trace at 10. Even on Sundays there's Curb Your Enthusiasm, Extras, then Family Guy and American Dad. It sounds sad but TV is really good now, and that's weird for me to say because I've never really been one for TV. The crap thing is that seasons are so long here. I mean a season in America is what, 24 episodes? And I got so used to series being between 6 and 12 episodes in the UK. I'm so chuffed that they're showing stuff like The Smoking Room, Teachers, and The Mighty Boosh on BBC America now though. I've been saying for how long that there is so much really good programming coming out of the UK these days and you wouldn't know it by watching BBC America. I mean yeah, they still show a lot of bollocks like Changing Rooms and What Not to Wear (and weird stuff like Monty Python, Benny Hill, and The Prisoner) but it's nice that they're showing somewhat quality stuff rather than, like, Two Pints of Lager. Although BBC America, unfortunately, has been showing rather a lot of Footballers' Wives lately....
I watched this documentary-type thing on a channel here last night called "Dawn French on Big Women" (which my father so sweetly taped for me--low self-esteem, Aisle 4) which was, predictably, about why everyone hates fat girls. And they do--even when the people they interviewed were trying to be nice about it, their language still reveals this prejudice. Now I'm no martyr--there are plenty worse things to be besides chubby--but being fat, particularly in America, is fucked up. I mean, Dawn French thinks chubby British girls have it bad, and they bloody well don't. One thing Britain is really good for is clothes. I don't like shopping much, but I grew to be better with it because every store I go into makes clothes that fit me, and that's totally awesome. I used to hate shopping when I was younger because my choice was limited to what, Lane Bryant, and those precious few stores which carried a plus-size section--which usually meant clothes that were more like tents (because god forbid a fat girl show some curves). But it's nice to be able to walk into even a Primark and be able to walk out with something I can wear and *gasp* look cute in. So big ol' thumbs up to the UK for that. But even then, I'm lucky because I'm at the "lower" end of chubby--that is, a size 14/16. If you're 20+, you can fucking forget it, and that goes for both countries. Sizes in the US usually stop, at the highest, at 12, and in the UK they stop at 18/20. So if I were to put on, say, 20 pounds, I'd be fucked. Back to muumuus.
One thing that really fucked me off was when I went--I know, sensitive subject--shopping for my wedding dress. It was hard to find dresses because they tend to be made for thinner girls here in the US, and ones in my size, again, look like tents. So what they do at most smaller bridal boutiques, is they carry maybe two different sizes of dress, a smaller one and a bigger one, rather than carrying 10-20 copies of the same dress. Then you try it on, and the assistant will rearrange it to show you how it would look if it fit. You stand on a stool, so you don't trod on the dress, and everyone oohs and aahs. So I tried on one dress, and I didn't particularly like it (it was sleeveless and for a long time, until probably the last six months anyway, I fucking hated my fat arms), but the assistant loved it and so did my mom. The assistant was holding it shut in the back (it being too small, obviously) and everyone was like "Oh, Wendy, how beautiful..." The assistant grinned at me and said "You look amazing in that. If you just lose, say, 15-20 pounds, it would look absolutely perfect." I just smiled and said "Well, I don't know that that's necessary--my fiance fell in love with me when I was fat, so it makes sense for him to marry me when I'm fat." It's that sort of casual inference--the
oh, just lose a bit of weight and you'd be so much prettier--that gets me. For one it's not that easy. For better or for worse this is the shape I've been since I hit puberty. My mom's chunky, my dad's chunky, thus Wendy = chunky. But two, why can't I be pretty and chubby at the same time? That's what always got me--the idea that it didn't matter what your personality was, how smart you are, how cute you are--the only thing anyone sees when they look at me is "fat girl". And thus you are totally unshaggable.
But what Dawn French and other people were saying, is that the craze for incredibly skinny girls is unhealthy, not just in a media-propagation kind of way, but in a survival-of-the-species kind of way. Bigger women, naturally, are a symbol of fertility--we have wide hips (good for giving birth), bigger breasts (for nursing said children) and so on. Whereas thin women, particularly dangerously thin women, are less like objects of fertility, so for men to turn their back on bigger women is to turn their back on the whole idea of survival of the fittest. I'm not saying thin women aren't attractive, obviously there are a ton of beautiful thin women, but what I'm saying is why can't fat girls be attractive too? There shouldn't be this dichotomy--and a lot of fat girls get into this--of us versus them, the fat cunt vs the skinny bitch. There should be a spectrum, and I don't think that will ever happen in my lifetime, not as long as Kirstie Alley is always the punchline on talk shows when they make a joke about being fat. James Gandolfini is fat, but he's Tony Soprano, so that's ok. And it's rubbish. Rubbish I say!
I have totally rambled and I didn't mean to. I rather intended to talk about this in my paper journal, but I guess I wrote it so here it is. And I suppose it's not really related to how much I love you, not directly, but the point I am getting at, on a personal level, is--you make me feel beautiful. When I'm with you I don't really feel the need to change. Yeah, I'm self-conscious, particularly about gaining weight; I mean, I know you love me as I am, but I worry about testing the limits, so to speak--but when we're undressed together, holding onto each other as we fall asleep, I don't really think so much about "oh god I hope he doesn't notice my fat arms" but rather "oh god I hope he'll fall asleep in my fat arms for a long, long time to come."
so yeah, i'm chubby. everyone else can fuck off. they don't know what they're missing!
approx 196 hours, and i love you more with every one.
you know it seems the more we talk about it it only makes it worse to live without it
I need to go to bed with Steve and Megan in a minute but I wanted to tell you I love you, and thank you for the post. I miss you like crazy. I've got a camera here so I've been taking pictures to bring back to you. So here's a few pictures of the cutest kids in the world (except for Ettie of course) and to tell you, don't worry about calling Baxley tomorrow--we're leaving at 6 AM. So if you want, call the mobile tomorrow night and I'll figure out a way to pay for the charges. I really need to hear your voice--I don't think I can (or want) to go without being able to tell you I love for more than 4 days.
I love you, Dave.
291 hours, I think... My calculations have been all over the place.
I hope this works.
This is my uncle Jim, with his dog Curly. Uncle Jim is my mom's brother; he's about 20 years older than her. His 3 kids are Billy, who's about 35, Jason, who's about 33, and Amy, who's 31. Amy has three kids: Zac (13), Megan (7) and Alex/Steve (5). Jay and Billy have step-kids but none of their own.
This is Zac, the 13 year old.
The woman standing behind Megan and Alex is my cousin Amy.
Megan and Alex:
And finally, a big ol' closeup of Steve:
*smile* I'm off to go sleep now, probably curled between both Steve and Megan. I love you, and miss you.
W
check your messenger, i left you the number here at amy's. here i was thinking we couldnt talk and then DUH, im at someones HOUSE. so if you want you can call.
love you.
everyone's saying different things to me, different things to me...
I am back in GA after a whirlwind few days in FL, which was bee-yoo-tiful, and I'm exhausted. Somewhere, you are probably passed out next to a Ciaran. I've been keeping a paper journal again, and whenever I get a moment I'll show you some of the stuff I've written, but for the most part I've spent a lot of time thinking of you. On Friday night, my mom, Ruby, my uncle Jim and aunt Linda, my pap and myself went down to the beach at night. It was beautiful--the sound of the waves crashing, the breeze, how warm and foamy the water felt as it closed around your ankles. All I wanted was to be there with you--you would have loved it, despite your reservations about water. It is impossible to not be gorgeous when you're splashing about in an ocean. But you weren't there, so I wrote that I loved you in the sand during a lull between waves, and I walked away from it, letting it wash into the surf, back into the ocean, where it could travel wherever, cross space and time... Like my love should do.
"Steppin' Out" by Joe Jackson is a great song. I've always known this but I just remembered.
315 hours. Te adoro.
however far away i will always love you
I know I promised a big post but I'm tipsy so I hope this will do.
I spent the evening out a bar in rural Georgia. I mean rural. The roads here for the most part tend to not be paved here, that's how rural. So anyway I'm sitting at this bar with my grandfather, my uncle Jim, my cousin Amy, her boyfriend Bill, my mom, and Ruby, and there's a live band we're there to see since the guy that plays drums works with everyone at CamTech. Anyway. So of course, seeing as how we're in rural Georgia, they of course are playing two things: country, which makes me want to stab myself in the eyes, and the occasional Lynyrd Skynyrd song. Okay. Fine. There are lots of cans of Coors Light and cowboy hats and "y'all"s going on around me, and I'm knocking back Smirnoff Ice Triple Blacks as fast as I can to make this painful evening better for me. So the guy who plays drums comes down and talks to us, and my mom, as ever, says "Actually, Wendy lives in London, and she's just home visiting!"
The guy looks at me and says "No shit, that's awesome. How long have you lived there?" And I replied "Over a year and a half, and I'm headed back in two weeks." He looked impressed, for whatever reason, and he said "Well I'll tell you what, we've got a song we hardly ever play down these parts (I am not making this up, David) but we'll play it for you coz I think you'll get it."
So I'm sitting there through renditions of Sweet Home Alabama--although don't get me wrong, I'm not talking shit on their playing abilities, they were actually really fucking good--and the guy who plays the drums says "This next song is for the girl from London" and then, in this bar, at 11 PM on a Thursday in Baxley Georgia, this country band starts playing fucking
Lovesong by the fucking
Cure. And what's even more awesome, is that this band's version was BETTER. And I was so happy, and I missed you so much, and I sang along even though no one else in that goddamned bar had ever even heard that song before, and I missed London so much and all of a suddent it became clear that my life, to this point anyway, has been leading me to this moment, to this decision, to think of you, and to think of me, and to finally say with complete certainty that there is nothing I would rather do than live with you
for the rest of my life.
So that's my story. I love you, Dave. And I hope this entry will do.
W
PS I swear this is all true. This shit can only ever happen to me. I'm seriously going to write a book someday...
PPS
368 hours.
when i look at the clouds across the moon
That was incredibly sweet. Is that what love means to you? I mean I don't know, it's different for everyone I guess. But for me, love is... Love is wanting you to be happy, I mean happier than you've ever been. It's immeasurable; it's undefinable, there's no time limit, there's no space it can't cross. No matter where I am or what I'm doing, you are the first thing on my mind. It's beautiful. Colors are brighter, music is more meaningful, every word I write to you even when you don't read it feels like the first thing I've ever written...
I love you. And I'm going to come home, and I'm going to do everything I can to make you happy.
W
wutang clan ain't nothin to fuck with
you know, at this time in 48 hours, you will be approximately 10 minutes away from landing at pittsburgh (quasi) international airport.
i got my haircut today and im looking quite cute, you know, for me. i mean its not going to kickstart my modelling career but its cute. and if you knew what was good for you, you would come here and fuck me posthaste.
posthaste!
w
oh and ps i love you! approximately thisssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss much. possibly more but you know, the limitations of expression on the internet and all.
pps seriously, come be on me. or i could be on you. or whatever. as long as there's insertion im happy.
i'm rich bitch
I don't know if I mentioned this today, but I absolutely adore you. My grandfather is here, and we're waiting for Mac to get home from school so we can go get some food. I love you. And it is insane to me that you will be here in 54 hours. 54! And I will be at the airport and you will come down the escalator and I will be waiting there and I will be so fucking happy to see you and I'm going to run into your arms and kiss you and run my hands through your hair and look in your eyes and tell you I love you and I've missed you and I'm sorry we've fought and everything in the world is right because I'm by your side again...
So yeah, I'm kinda looking forward to it.
:)
xoxw.
it's a celebration, bitches
DAVE LOOK LOOK LOOKIE LOOK CAN WE GO CAN WE GO PLEASEEEEEEE.
http://pittsburghlive.com/x/tribune-review/entertainment/events/s_365236.htmli will seriously die if we can go to this. it would be pretty much the most awesome thing ever.
i'm going out tonight so i won't be home later (:/) but believe me i am doing nothing but thinking of you. i miss you like absolutely crazy, beautiful, and i won't be happy until you're here with me... which you will be in about 103.5 hours. i have done nothing but think about you and miss you since i got home and i can't wait until you're here so i don't have to miss you anymore...
i love you.
w
ps the weather is ridiculously beautiful right now. i am sitting at the library in beaver, and one whole wall of the library is nothing but window and i am facing it, looking out over the river. the leaves haven't even begun to turn yet; everything is green and the sky is blue and it's in the mid 70s or so. it is absolutely perfect weather and all it needs to be paradise is you.
also here's a list of the books i have read and am reading, starting from this past friday:
Michael Chabon:
The Final Solution (the guy who wrote
Wonder Boys and
The Mysteries of Pittsburgh, big ol' heart for him. It's a Sherlock Holmes mystery, after Sherlock has retired and he's 89 years old)
Chuck Klosterman:
Killing Yourself to Live (basically a nonfiction
High Fidelity, *shrug*)
Neil Gaiman:
The Sandman "Endless Nights" (I don't get what the big deal is)
Ian McEwan:
Enduring Love and
Amsterdam (because I liked
Atonement so much)
Dave Eggers:
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (a book I've been meaning to read forever)
Vladimir Nabokov:
Pale Fire and
Pnin (for obvious reasons)
the new George Carlin book
Mark Dunn:
Ella Minnow Pea (recommended to me)
so this is basically my whole life right now. reading and waiting for you.
i'm telling you that for nothing
Okay, I don't have much time as I am technically supposed to be on the road up to camp right now, but I wanted to update quickly before I went.
It's an absolutely beautiful day today. It's been raining like nonstop since I got home, so I welcome the warm weather; the sky is totally clear, the sun is shining, and I am SURROUNDED by grass and trees! I had no idea how awesome I would find that after living in south London all this time. I seriously sat outside on the porch at my dad's for two or three hours today, listening to El Jukebox, watched the wind blow, and was totally blown away by how bloody green everything is. It's almost too green, like unnaturally, like something in a painting other than real life. But I suppose the colours of real life are much sharper than the colours you recall in your head. If that makes any sense.
So anyway I'm about to leave here to make the two hour long drive up to camp, and I'm by myself tonight which is awesome because every time we've gone up to camp since I've gotten home I've had to drive Mac up there and while I love my little brother he tends to babble when we're in the car and I feel the need to listen to music he likes. Now I can just chill, open up the sun roof, and listen to whatever I feel like as I cruise at 80-90 mph up Rt 60....
So I just wanted you to know I love you. I don't know when you'll get this because I know you have things going on this weekend, and I'm sorry I wasn't home last night to talk to you but work ended up running way later than planned. But now we are done with the kitchen, everyone's happy, and I'll be up at camp until Sunday night and will be incommunicado Monday as I plan to chill with my dad for the last time until you get here...
God. You will be here so bloody soon... In approximately 196 hours, as a matter of fact. Christ, less than 200 hours now. I am so excited.... I absolutely cannot wait to see you. In fact, in a week at this time I will probably be up at camp, and I will most likely be so freaking excited that I will get on everyone's nerves and they'll be telling me to shut up all the time and I won't care because my boyfriend is coming, my boyfriend is coming,
my boyfriend is coming!!!Love you, miss you, want you, lust after you, and everything else that comes with being a girl in love.
W
ps and seriously, please remember to give me the details of your flight! i keep forgetting whenever i talk to you.
