Pink Feather Boas and Other Dating Paraphernalia

So, a few months ago, two friends of mine came to visit me from out of town to attend a local baseball game with me.  We'd been planning it for months (and leave it to me to wait until the absolute last second to purchase my ticket, so late in fact that they'd technically sold out and I had to call in a favor, but that's another story of my procrastination) and were very excited about the fact that the event included a "Girls Night Out" theme at the ballpark.  Upon arrival, we were given a special baseball cap (complete with a pink logo), a free drink before the game (which we missed due to our lack of timeliness), special seats in a fabulous section of the stadium and, to top it all off, a pink feather boa. 

Not ones to miss an opportunity to adorn ourselves in femininity, we threw those suckers on despite the raging heat (who knew feathers created an instant layer of thermos-like insulation?!) and parked ourselves right in the middle of a sea of fellow feathered fans.  But, much to our surprise and enjoyment, the trip to our seats was brimming with male attention...  I kid you not, we got whistled at, grinned at, winked at, asked what the deal was with the boas and then complimented on them, and altogether checked out from every possible angle.  Granted, one "gentleman" at the beer stand did insinuate that I was inappropriately dressed for a baseball game, to which I quickly responded that I must be a bigger fan than him because they'd been talking about this event on Facebook for weeks. But, I digress.  Ninety-nine point nine percent of the interactions with men that evening where positive and bordering on flirtatious, to say the least.  So much so that my two fabulous friends and I declared the pink feather boa the answer to all of our dating questions and quandaries.

So, I haven't had too many opportunities to wear a pink feather boa since the baseball game, so I can't vouch for it's validity or credibility outside of a testosterone-infused sporting event just yet, but in the time since "Girls Night Out," I have paid more attention to other attention-getters and noticed an even more surprising trend.  Case #2 in point:  My dear friend from New York came to visit a few weeks ago, and she'd long wanted to go to one of those awesome painting instruction classes where you can drink wine.  My personal favorite is Sips N Strokes in various locations throughout the southeast (advertising plug that I won't ever see a dime for, but I know you'll love it if you go, so it's worth it).  So, we picked a painting and headed out. 

About halfway through the class, we needed to take a break in order for a layer of paint to dry, so the instructor enlightened us to the fact that the bar at the end of the shopping center would give Sips N Strokes patrons a discount if they came in wearing their painting apron.  Uh... duh.  We went to said bar.  In we strutted with our fellow painters, decked out in our multi-colored aprons and smocks, paint covering almost every exposed inch of us.  Although the place was pretty packed, we immediately garnered the attention of most of the other patrons.  My friend and I stood off to the side and chatted, but a gentleman at a table behind us got her attention.  He leaned back from his chair and politely asked what the deal was with the aprons.  And he was cute and didn't at all stink of creepy, so of course, we responded.  As my friend was explaining the painting class, I looked beyond our new friend and noticed an entire table the length of that particular wing of the restaurant, lined on both sides with very attractive men.  Ring scan commenced... and not a single ping.  I attempted to keep my delight under wraps as the gentleman explained the coincidence that the entire table was employees of Behr paint and were there for a meeting.  We chatted for a few more minutes and then we got the signal that our paintings were dry and we had to return to our regular scheduled festivities.

The moral of this story?  When wearing something slightly out of place, men cannot resist the urge to call attention to it or most of the time, ask you outright why you're wearing it.  Calling attention to yourself in a totally G-rated fashion is not only fun, but it could potentially be a beneficial conversation-starter.  Now don't get me wrong... I don't intend to start gallivanting around in costume, but I will pay a bit more attention to strategically planned accessories while on the market. 

P.S. Stay tuned for an update regarding a former "Man of Singledom" who has somehow managed to find me on multiple free dating sites in the last month (why don't I take those profiles down?!) and also scarily on Facebook. 

Decisions, Decisions, Decisions

So, although I don't really have any scandalous updates for you pertaining to my social life or other elements that might contribute to the changing of my Facebook relationship status, I do have something I'd like to discuss with you.  I know it's been a long time, and I've been a terrible blogger over the last few months.  But, quite honestly, you haven't missed much.  I've been out, yes... I've had a good time, yes, very much so... I've had some shenanigans and adventures, yes... I've had some random messages on PlentyofFish, yes (duh)... But, blog material?  Nope.  Not a shred.  Well... I take that back.  There's been a few components of said adventures that I thought I could possibly muster a few paragraphs out of, but haven't felt compelled enough to bring them to your attention until I'm able to flesh them out a bit.  You know, make them entertaining and blog worthy.  I have high standards.

The reasons behind this particular post are a combination of date-relevant and personal-life-relevant.  To some, the date-relevance might seem like a bit of a stretch, but others will jump right on board. 

To give you some background, this was a big week for me.  I enjoyed the company of some wonderful people over the Fourth of July weekend and truly had an awesome time.  I've had a much shorter commute to work, thanks to a friend, and overall, things have been peachy.  I got an all-expense paid ticket to a Braves game last night and they won, basically rubbing the opponent's nose in their victory with a 9-1 final score.  Everything I touch this week turns to gold.  But, the real bell-ringer is that I was presented with a blessing that will allow me to be a bit more financially comfortable and to do some things that I really only dreamed about doing before Tuesday afternoon.  Pretty amazing how things can look so different from one day to the next. 

This sudden and unexpected turn of financial events got my mind racing.  What to do, what to do?  And then it hit me.  You know, after I weeded through all of the Dave-Ramsey-isms in my head.  I intend to listen to them... a little.  In February, I dove into something that I was unable to fulfill because of financial reasons.  Head-first, I decided then that this was the right course of action for me and totally had the air let out of my balloon when I realized how much it was going to cost.  A girl on a budget who works for a small, non-profit isn't really what you'd call "rollin' in it."  So, it went to the back burner until one of those days when I happened to rub the right lamp somewhere and a genie popped out, ready to grant three of my top one-hundred wishes. 

Now, that giant speed bump in the shape of a dollar sign has been eliminated.  And I'm petrified at the reality of the decision.  I know that I need to relax and resist the urge to make rash decisions, as if somehow my changed financial outlook might melt away or like there's a bonfire burning holes in my wallet.  Granted, this winfall isn't enough to change the world or really change the rest of my life.  It's something that could make some future decisions easier and definitely provide me with a nice, little, just-in-case cushion.  But, if I make this particular decision with it, it could change my life. 

Okay, so I know what you're thinking.  Relax.  No gender changes here.  I'm quite satisfied with my feminity and like dresses, makeup and all other womanly accessories entirely too much to even fathom a team-change.  And I like boys. A lot.  Which hopefully isn't news to you, at this point.  I'm considering a game-changer/life-changer and granted, it may be partially for the wrong reasons, but I'm considering it nonetheless.

I'm thinking of having weight loss surgery.

I know that with all of my plus-sexy confidence this might be hard to imagine.  And honestly, I've been weighing (I crack myself up) all of my options.  I'm currently on a mainstream diet program that is working, but it's not easy.  It's a lifestyle change as much as surgery.  And it's slow.  And you all know that patience is not a virtue that I possess for longer than two or three minutes.  I'm losing weight, but I know that it will be a lifelong battle.  But, so will surgery.  But, can I do it by myself?  Can I tackle the plus-sexy battle on my own and be successful?  Although the odds are against me, I'm a girl that likes to see things to fruition.  I am also a girl that doesn't like to make permanent physical changes.  It makes me nervous.  What if I need that 2/3 of my stomach again for some reason?  This fear is 99% of the reason why I don't have a tattoo.  I can't even commit to putting ink on my skin, how can I commit to removing most of an organ?  But, it could change my life.  I've seen it change other people's lives. 

Besides my overall health and chances of living longer, which are the obvious and primary reasons, there's this little, lonely, single girl in the back of my mind saying "Do it, Melanie... do it."  This little, lonely, single girl has tried diligently to overcome the stigma and stereotypes associated with plus-sexy women for years and continuously failed.  She's exuded confidence, sported some dead sexy outfits, been friendly and outgoing, flirtatious and fascinating.  But, she's scared to death she's never going to find someone who can see past the fact that she's not a size 6 and he will miss out on all of the wonderfulness she has to offer.  Scared...to...death.  But is that the reason that I'm not dating someone?  Are men rejecting me because I'm plus-sexy?  Sure.  I know it for a fact.  I'm sure it hasn't been the case with all of them, but I've heard "Well, Melanie's a sweet girl, but..." and "Well, she has a pretty face, but..."  countless times.  I'm not looking for pity or intending to wallow in self-deprecation, but, it's a fact and a part of my history in Singledom.  Society creates an image of a man who dates a plus-sexy woman as one who has settled or has somehow lost the dating game and gotten stuck with the runt of the litter.  The other side of that coin is that plus-sexy women should be grateful for whatever they can get and willing to settle for the first man who comes along regardless of what he has to offer.  It's not fair.  And I want out.  I'm not the runt of the litter; I'm not someone to settle for; I'm freaking fantastic, but many times I have a plus-sexy wall between that fantastic and the men I'm trying to get through to.

So, there it is Singletons and Marrieds.  There's my current "heart on my sleeve" moment.  I'm not going to rush into the decision.  Four days ago I didn't even think surgery would ever be a financial option for me, so to jump into it would be silly and shock my system.  We'll see which way the wind blows.  Maybe I'll just pay men to go with me on exotic vacations until the money runs out.  I'm not above it.  Or maybe I'll take my sister's advice and buy a house.  Although she wants me to buy one in my hometown, two hundred miles away from my job.  Houses are less expensive there, but that's one hell of a commute...  Are men attracted to hot cars like women are?  Maybe I'll buy some super sexy sportscar man magnet.  We'll see...  We'll see.