Eye of the Beholder: LGN Diet

About a year ago, I was talking to a male friend.  We were just chit chatting, waiting for other people to finish or show up, I don’t remember exactly.  Anyway, we started talking about working out.  He has been known to be somewhat of a gym rat if the mood arises.  As I’ve said before, I know that I need to work out to look the way I want but I don’t love it.  And because of that lack of love, my gym kicks go in waves.  At that time, I was on a new one, only a few weeks old.  After talking for a little while about what we do and don’t do, blah blah blah, he threw me a curve ball.  As calmy as ever, he looked me up and down and said, “You’re working out.  You must be having sex.”

Now, sex is natural and beautiful and all that loveliness but it’s still something I consider to be private, for me and everyone else.  I had no idea how to react.  At that time, I wasn’t even talking to, hoping to flirt, or anything else with anyone, let alone concerned about anyone seeing any part of my body not already visible in work clothes.  The comment just blew my mind.  Is this why men or everyone thinks everyone else works out?  Is there anything wrong if that is the reason?  What are your real reasons for working out?

I’ve already admitted that my main reason is vanity, not naked vanity, just the normal kind.  I want to be a size 8 (occasionally a 6 or 10 depending on the cut).  I think this size looks good on me.  I’m still relatively young and have the available time and resources to exercise.  I really have no excuses not to.  I’ve never been the type to really complain about my current size/body but sometimes those glances in front of the full length mirror cause an unpleasant double-take.  What’s a girl to do? Complain or sweat?  I complain enough about other things.  I’ve decided to spare the people around me from another unnecessary topic.

Possible Reasons for Quality Time on the Elliptical Machine:

1.) Health: Okay.  That’s an easy one.  Who doesn’t want to be healthier?  The problem is that most of us aren’t willing to sacrifice to be healthy.  We’re just waiting for the big pharmacy companies to come up with a pill, or better yet a one time shot.

2.) Vanity: Yes, I’ll claim that one.  We all want to look better than we currently do, even the people who already look amazing.  But not everyone’s got Giselle’s genetics or LL Cool J’s personal trainer.  For most of us, our appearance is extra, not a part of our job description.  Famous people are famous for a reason.  We’ve got to stop comparing.  I’ll never look like Beyonce.  I’m just trying to look as good as I can, regardless of those around me.

3.) Muscles: Yes, this is tied to vanity but there are some people who work out for a particular goal, competing and such.  No real comment on this one.  But all of those sinewy muscles and veins popping out kind of grosses me out.

4.) LGN Diet “Looking Good Naked”: I’ve got to admit the name is a new one for me but needs no further explanation.  Although, it seems that people are fueled by this motivation until the couple gets really comfortable and starts to gain together…

5.) Special Occasions and Summer: Closely tied to the LGN Diet, often times people work out to fit and/or look better in certain outfits for certain occasions; weddings, reunions, bathing suits, vacations, etc.  This motivation is generally temporary.

6.) Fun: Heaven knows why but some people actually enjoy exercising.  I wasn’t blessed with that gene.  But if you’ve got it, rock it, I guess.  I was blessed/cursed with the “eat good and sleep well” gene. (Note: Eating good does not necessarily mean healthily, just tastily…)

I didn’t really have a purpose for this post.  I just really wanted to write about the new term I learned, the “Looking Good Naked” Diet.

Wondering why everyone else at the gym is working out,

Jo’van

May 31, 2009
Categories: Eye of the Beholder (Self-Image), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: 2 Comments

Friendly Drama: Married to Another Woman but Straight?

Do you have that person that knows everything about you but drives you absolutely crazy?  Who understands exactly how you work and what makes you tick but seems to make no efforts not to set you off?  And you’re NOT romantically involved?  That would be my roommate, Mary.

I love her.  She’s the Puerto Rican sister I never had (or wanted). Aside from our bitchy-ness and complete avoidance of relationships, we are complete opposites.  I am tall, she is short.  I am permanently tan, she is perpetually pale.  I am a proverbial stick (or log as my mother says), she is a s bootylicious, kid-size coke bottle.  I am analytical and literal, she is creative and artsy.  I am loud and abrasive, she’s quiet and secretive.  When we travel, I book the travel and hotels.  She manages the activities.  As evident by the painting in our living room, she’s the yin to my yang.  (Or is it the yang to my yin? I don’t remember what they both mean.)

Opposister

Opposister - "Extremes create a balance, not power. Abstract meaning nothing without the concrete. You are as much my opposite as my sister." We worked on a project together in college titled "Opposister". She made the visuals and I wrote poetry about the nature of our relationship. Recorded with music, the poems played from a speaker built into the back of the frame. There was also a book that chronicled the process.

It’s interesting to have a friend who feels so much like family.  While I consider her my sister, sometimes it seems more fitting to refer to her as my wife.  We’re like roommates for life (but not really.  I hope one day both of us can be married to other people…).  All of the bills are split down the middle.  We’re “raising” our children (the dogs) together.  When I’m running late in the morning, she’ll make my coffee and put it in a mug.  If I know she’s drank a little more than normal, I’ll try to make sure we have Powerade in the morning.  Leftovers are automatically separated into tupperware for our lunches the next day.  She does most of the cooking and cleaning.  I get to carry the heavy items upstairs.  (To be fair, she’ll do this also.  It’s just easier for me to do it most of the time.)  When I’m going out or doing something, I’ll often say “we”, just assuming she’s coming along.  My friends are her friends and it only seems natural that they should be.  When we fight, we often try to end it and pout for a few hours or days then just get over it.  In short, we’re a married couple who’s not intimate.  (As much as I love her, that would just be gross and wrong. Ewwww.)

She’s the only person I’ve lived with since leaving home. (That is if you don’t count my semester in Florence with 8 roommates.  I had my own room and was the only person that showered at night.  Plus, most people seemed to just stay out of my way.  I haven’t the slightest idea why…)  She was my randomly placed freshman roommate at Iowa State.  My greatest fears about my roommate were that she’d be a whore or disgusting.  Lucky for me, she was neither.  Just a pretty little girl who seemed cool and had an accent I needed to get used to.  (I still translate for people that haven’t been around her that much.  It makes perfect sense to me now….Well most of the time 🙂 ) We were lucky enough to be roommates that became friends and not friends that decided to live together.  We understood how the other person lives and operates before really getting to know the person.  The funny thing is that we only lived together for one year in college.  I became an RA my sophomore year and we weren’t allowed to have roommates.  She graduated a year later than I did and decided to move to Austin.  Four years later, we were living together again.  But this time we had our own bedrooms and didn’t share a bathroom with 40 other girls, a major upgrade.  We just signed our lease for another year.  We’re going two years strong but way past the newlywed period.

Our weird dynamic seems to work.  As often as she wears on my nerves (and vice versa), we both know this is a good situation.  I don’t know if I’ll find a better roommate.  And I’m not hoping to have to look for one anytime soon.  She’s one of a handful of people who’ve seen me cry and I’m okay with that.  We’ve gone through things that will never be forgotten but need never be brought up again.  We’ve backpacked across Western Europe together for a month and although we got close near the end, we didn’t kill each other.  She’s my outlet after work.  I’m her “I have dumb question” person.  If something happens in public, we need not exchange words, just a glance.  We’re convinced we’re going to hell but find (some) comfort in the fact that we’d probably be going together.  It’s cool.  It works.  And I hope it continues to work.

So for anyone that’s heard me talk about “My Wife” and wondered, there you go, the full explanation.  Yes, I have a platonic wife but I’m technically single and into men.

Watching “the kids” play,

Jo’van

May 7, 2009
Categories: Friendly Drama (The Ones You Choose), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: Leave a comment

Shades of Understanding: Being “Just Black”

“The African-American experience” has been a hot topic in the media for the last year.  With Barack Obama running for president (and incidentally being elected), black hope, deliverance, equality has been all over the print, TV, radio and online media.  Some feel a black President signals the day African-Americans have become fully equal.  Others consider it to be a stepping stone but not the finale.  Either way, being Black has been discussed but not really examined.

What does it mean to be black/African-American?  It’s really a personal definition.  There are some common traits/histories that the group shares but YOUR experiences are the most important definers.  Rather than speak for a rather large group, I’ll just try to explain my feelings about it.

For most people that I know (that aren’t black), being “something”, whatever it is, is defined by a history, what your particular group has “gone through.”  While you may be American, you’re also Greek, Spanish, German, Italian, Panamanian, Indian, Canadian, Nigerian, Irish, Brazilian, etc.  Just being able to claim a country and culture outside of the U.S. seems to empower people to be something extra, justifying failed attempts to learn a second language, perfecting one “authentic” dish or a trip you can’t afford to the land of your forefathers.  I’ve realized that over the years, I’ve grown almost bitter about this lack of extended identity.  Yes, African-American culture is rich and thick.  But it’s short.  What’s 300 years in the grand scheme of things?

Let’s say a generation is 25 years long.  300 years is roughly 12 generations.  Growing up, I was blessed to spend time with great-grandmothers, grandmothers and my parents.  We represented 4 generations, a third of African-American history.  That kind of realization helps put the reasons I feel the way I do into perspective.

The roots of “my people” were ripped up and displaced.  Sure, I could “go back to Africa” to visit the land of my forefathers but the continent’s just a little big and somewhat diverse.  True, most slaves brought to the Americas were from West Africa but that only narrows it down to a minimum of 5 currently sovereign nations.  That’s like saying I could be German, Swedish, Turkish, Italian or Austrian.  Just a little different, right?

Like my family, the vast majority of African-Americans have family members of different, usually European, connections.  The only part of my family that I can trace back more than 5 generations is Irish.  There’s nothing wrong with that.  It’s kind of cool.  But for some reason, I don’t feel a strong connection to Dublin, U2 or redheads.  I giggle when I say it out loud, especially around St. Patrick’s Day.  I’m African-American.  Our family also has Cherokee roots.  Unfortunately, I know very little about Cherokee history or culture.  It feels almost wrong to claim it.  Everyone from the South, seems to have a Cherokee great-grandmother somewhere in their family tree.  So I go back to being just black.  What is that?

In college, I had several conversations with African immigrant students about identification while in the US.  Their ethnicities covered every major region of the continent, different languages, religions, cultures, histories.  But one thing most of the students I spoke with agreed on was the fact that they didn’t want to be considered black or African-American while in the States.  At first, I thought it was because they’d like to be identified with/by their home country.  And while that’s true, several people explained to me that it was equally important for them not to be tied to the sordid, unfavorable image of African-Americans here.  How could people who ARE the African part of my African-American identity be SO against being what I am?  What’s wrong with it?  Unfortunately, many of the stereotypes we peddle here are bought around the world.  But there’s enough to say about that for a separate post.  Suffice it to say, I was surprised, hurt and later educated about how we’re seen by our theoretical brothers and sisters and fully get where they may be coming from.

There’s nothing I can do about having a limited history.  And I’m not ashamed of any aspect of the history I can claim now.  It’s just that I sometimes wish I had more I could claim, hope to embrace, love enough to teach.  African-American history is completely American history.  While parts are often (intentionally or not) left out of our traditional K-12 history books, African-American history is nothing but American history.  There is no and never was an Africa-America.  Our history is just red (blood, sweat and tears), white (captors to coworkers) and blue(s).  Every now and again, I kinda wish “we” could share the same kind of specialness other cultures do, being able to claim (if only partially) somewhere/something else.  Not complaints, just thoughts.

Singing “Follow the Drinking Gourd”,

Jo’van

May 6, 2009
Categories: Shades of Understanding (Race Relations), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: Leave a comment

The World…As I See It: Why I Should Really Celebrate Cinco de Mayo

A repost from last year but it still works. 🙂

Yes, I just love this song and Carlos Santana’s Mexican so it works, right?  Haha.

Cinco de Mayo!!!  For many people, May 5th has something to do with a Mexican battle and is a perfect excuse to gorge on chips and salsa, inhale soft shell tacos and drink a lot of (if not too many) Corona’s and Mexican Martinis.  Traditionally for me, Cinco de Mayo celebrations are about finding the most colorful dress you have and preparing to drink to oblivion (or most often in my case watching other people drink to oblivion).  There’s been very little history or real knowledge associated with the date.  But today I learned something new about the holiday.  Who knew Cinco de Mayo had a (near) direct relationship to the emancipation of slavery?

I learned this through a post titled “Market Research: Cinco de Mayo Isn’t Indepence Day” on Advertising Age’s The Big Tent blog.  According to the Fayetville Observer (North Carolina):

“During this time, Confederate General Robert E. Lee was enjoying success, and had the French defeated México at Puebla, France would have aided the South in the American Civil War in order to free Southern ports of the Union Blockade. The Mexicans had won a great victory that kept Napoleon III from supplying the confederate rebels for another year, allowing the United States to build the greatest army the world had ever seen.”

While there’s a lot more to it, the success of the Mexicans over the French aided in the Yankees over the Confederates.  Viva la Mexico!

Toasting her Corona,

Jo’van

May 5, 2009
Categories: The World...As I See It (Everything Else), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: Leave a comment

Romantic Cynic: Sexy Equals “Reading in Bed”

I recently wrote a post wondering if a partner up to your physical standard was important.  I haven’t exactly figured that one out for myself but had a recent epiphany (as painful as it might have been).  The physical is very important being the first thing you (and your friends) notice and sometimes being strong enough to temporarily  blind you to everything else.  But sometimes it’s just not enough (no matter how badly you may want it to be).  There has to be something else to keep you intrigued when you’re not looking at each other.  What makes you smile when he sends you a sweet message?  Or when she calls just to hear your voice?  Probably not her ass or his abs.

Sure, the physical image and moments are important and can have lasting effects but what keeps you happy may not be that shallow.  For me personally, I need another ( and by another I mean additional) form of stimulation.  Talk to me.  Tell me something I didn’t know.  Make me think.  Make me smile about more than just your body/face/arms/etc. (Oh, in case you didn’t know, I’m an arms woman.)

I met a guy last year that was/is absolutely beautiful; handsome face, perfect body, good times.  I won’t even pretend or try to find another way to say it.  Being pleasantly average, I was intimidated by his good looks.  Yeah, I know that I’m an amazing person, worth the world, and all that jazz, but that wouldn’t stop me from being the ugly one in the couple’s photos.  My sparkling personality would not stop strangers from wondering “How’d she manage that/him?”  But I figured since he didn’t seem to notice he could find a better physical match, I wouldn’t bring it up.  What’s the point in planting unnecessary questions?  🙂

As we talked and chatted online, I started to pick up on some not so attractive qualities, at least to me.  Not every woman is as picky as I am, especially when the physical is so impressive, but I kinda like signs of a deeper person, and by deeper person, I pretty much mean inner nerd.  What motivates you?  Pisses you off?  What books do you read?  Music do you listen to?  I need conversations, challenges, not just words thrown out there for entertainment.  Regardless, after a little more time together, I realized I couldn’t deal with just the physical for any real amount of time.  Sure, in those desperate/lonely moments, he’ll sound amazing but that’s just because he’s familiar (and gorgeous).  Maybe if he just never spoke, wrote, tried to communicate with words…

Sadly, I know I can’t function like that.  As much fun as it may sound, I’m just not the trophy type.  Physical just can’t do enough for me.  I am entirely too complicated to be so easily satisfied.  I need that “mental standard”.  In comparison to the physical, I’m less willing to compromise.  We BOTH need to be at least slightly above average on the “smart scale”.  (And yes, I do consider myself to have above average intelligence.  Feel free to disagree.  And becuase I’m said that, I’m sure these post will be riddled with ty-pos and grammartical errors. 🙂 Feel free to point them out.  I’ll adjust accordingly.)  If the proverbial “he” was significantly less intelligent (or just less eloquent) than I am, I believe I’d get frustrated.  I fear the thought of him being stupid would cross my mind and I might treat him accordingly in difficult situations.  That’s very shallow and mean of me but I just don’t think I’m that big of a person yet.  On the other hand, if I knew his intelligence was leaps and bounds beyond mine, I fear I’d be permanently intimidated.  Unlike looks, there’s little I can do to match intelligence.  A gym membership, regular hair appointments and plastic surgery’s not going to help me.  You can’t pay to be smarter.   I don’t like feeling less.  I need a balance.  We need to be close enough to provide good conversations and do so without feelings of superiority or inferiority.  It sucks but I’m just being honest.  I don’t need a rocket scientist or a doctor and could be very happy with a truck driver or a maintenance man. Your occupation (and paycheck for that matter) doesn’t define your intelligence.  Not everyone has bankable “book smarts”.  I just want/need someone who likes to learn and who’ll continually challenge me to do the same.

I realized a few year ago just how big of nerd I was and the fact that I was looking for one.  One night, I decided it was best to crash on a male friend’s couch rather than going home.  It was a little late/early.  Now, to be honest, I was a little more than “interested” in this friend but nothing was happening (at that point, at least).  Anyway, I walked into his room to ask him a question.  Keep in mind we’d known each other for a few months and I’d seen him in a bathing suit.  He was cute and I was attracted but what I saw when I walked into his room that night pretty much melted my heart.  Imagine.  Imagine.  (I’m sure the title of this post probably gives it away but) NERD ALERT: I saw him sitting in bed with his glasses on reading a book.  Having a class with him, I’ve seen him read before but there was something different about seeing him do it for pleasure.  The glasses bit didn’t exactly hurt, especially since I was coming in to see if he had an extra contact lens case.  Who knew reading could be so sexy?  Then he proceeded to tell me about the book.  To be honest, I couldn’t tell you what it was about now but I do remember how earnest he was about whatever he was saying.  He’d read the book before and thought it was great because…..

Look, yes, I really appreciate the hard work guys put in in the gym.  And yes, I love the way a man looks when he’s well put together.  Massages are amazing.  The random “just thinking about you”s can stop me in my tracks.  And don’t even get me started on the effects certain colognes have on me.  But if you really want me to get excited about sharing a significant amount of time and a small (possibly rectangular) space with you, read for me, baby.  It’s not all I need but it certainly can’t hurt.  (Wow, I’m such a nerd. Haha)

Dreaming of her reading buddy,

Jo’van

May 3, 2009
Categories: Romantic Cynic (Love And Lookalikes), Whole Truth, The . Tags: , , , , , , , , . Author: tjovand . Comments: 1 Comment

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