I’m Rubber, You’re Gluten

I have been through enough break ups this year to last me a life time.

First, it was dairy. Second, it was gluten.  Third, it was the boy.  And now, well now it’s gluten…again.

ryan gosling gf.jpg

You know how sometimes you get back with an ex and your friends give you a ton of shit for it?  That’s basically what happened with my doctor when he found out that I’d returned to gluten.  (But the bread was just So0o0o0o amazing and we all know that it’s really hard to say no to amazing bread…)

Maybe a little back story is necessary –

I have had a long history of health issues that doctors seemed determined to dismiss, some being so bold as to tell me “I don’t know [what that is] but good luck with that.”  Understandably, I developed an aversion to doctors.  Finally, way back in June of 2015, I broke, went to an allergist and had a bunch of blood tests done, including a Celiac Panel.  Shortly thereafter I ran away to Jamaica where I ate exclusively bread and pasta and gained at least 5lbs in bloat and discomfort.  It was super.  (Actually, Jamaica is really amazing, the “super” sarcasm should be applied only to the bloat and discomfort).  Mere hours on home soil and I was then back in the doctor’s office getting the results of my blood work.  The doctor came in and rather bluntly told me “So, it looks like you have Celiac Disease.  On the upside, you’ll be thin for the rest of your life.”

THANKS FOR THE PERSPECTIVE.

It didn’t make sense.  I’m Italian.  Bread and pasta are my life.  How could I possibly have Celiac Disease?  My IgA numbers were above average but lower than most Celiacs. Something’s not right.  Jeeze, I’m even below average as a Celiac.  Pitiful.

Step 1. Denial.

Actually, I didn’t get very far past the denial stage, to be honest.  I did my best to eat gluten free for about a month or so (and even then, I kept screwing it up- How was I supposed to know that a California Roll had gluten in it?  WHO SAW THAT COMING??)

I knew that I needed a biopsy to confirm the Celiac Disease but by that time, I had lost my insurance coverage.  So naturally, I deemed myself healthy and told myself it was silly to be on a gluten free diet.  My numbers were low, I couldn’t possibly be a real Celiac (this sentiment was confirmed by real Celiac sufferers).

I’ve been back on gluten for a few months and feeling beyond miserable.  I explained away my struggles because I’d heard so many complaints from Celiac sufferers that gluten intolerance is not real.  There are articles upon articles claiming that it’s just a fad diet, that gluten intolerance is just a scam.  Yet there are others claiming that gluten intolerance DOES exist; the Celiac Foundation included.  Somehow, I still felt like a fraud; like I was just crying wolf.

gene wilder gf.jpg

I looked for other reasons.  I blamed it on my thyroid.  Maybe that was causing all of my symptoms (CD and hypothyroidism can have similar symptoms).  In January, I was able to attain insurance coverage and decided to go all out and test for EVERYTHING.  (Hypochondriac style!  Rock on).  I found a great gastroenterologist and got the endoscopy that I should have gotten months earlier.  I found a PCP and asked her to run a million tests, including TSH and T4.

That long-winded explanation brings us to today.  –

I met with my doctors again to review my results.  Apparently, my thyroid and hormone levels are perfect. (Okay, ruled that out.)  I don’t have Celiac Disease (Okay, that’s out..) but my doctor seemed uncomfortable ruling it out entirely. (Just kidding?)

Fun facts: I carry the Celiac gene.  I’m at “moderate risk” for developing CD.  I show signs of reflux.  All of my symptoms can be a result of CD.

What does all of that mean?  “I can’t say for sure that you do have Celiac Disease.  Biopsies aren’t always a perfect indicator.  It may just be a gluten sensitivity.  I’d like to treat it as if you do have Celiac disease.  I think you should go on a completely gluten free diet and see if it makes a difference.”  (I’m paraphrasing because my memory is horrific and my doctor lingo is not so hot but that was certainly the general jist).

Once again, I feel like I hack.  I can’t even be a GOOD Celiac?!  Does gluten sensitivity/intolerance exist?  If it does, can everyone stop making me feel bad about it?  My doctors seem to think it exists.  Maybe my insides aren’t dying a slow death when they come in contact with gluten but they certainly aren’t welcoming it with open arms(tubes?).

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It’s hard enough knowing that I have to give up my favorite foods.  MY COMFORT FOODS. But to be shamed for it on top of everything?  I don’t mind the stigma so much as I am genuinely confused as to what’s happening.

So here I am, at 10 o’clock at night, drinking my tea and snacking on gluten free fruit roll ups (because #adulthood) feeling very confused.  And bloated.  And cranky.  And bloated.

Good lord I hope the bloating, the confusion and the crankiness tag along with the gluten.  I will happily say farewell if so.

I know that this is one of my whinier posts but if there is anyone else out there struggling with celiac, gluten intolerance/sensitity, confusion- feel free to reach out!

If you think you might have CD or a Gluten Intolerance, please see a doctor that you trust. Check out the links below for some more info.

 

Non-Celiac Gluten Sensitivity

https://celiac.org

 

 

Why I Need Plastic Surgery

I have come to a grand realization today.  Apparently, my face is displeasing to some people.  Largely because, and pardon the pun, my nose is too large.

This isn’t the first time that I’ve heard this.  Once, while I was working at Starbucks, I took a man’s order and he asked “Are you Italian?”  I politely answered yes (because I was being paid to be polite, dammit) and he smugly said “I can see that.  It’s the nose.”

Why thank you, sir.  I needed you to point out one of my largest, again pardon the pun, insecurities.

Now today, I started my day with a similar message from a lovely gentleman* on my online dating app.  I use the term “gentleman” facetiously as he was rather egregiously NOT a gentleman.

::Pause for applause while I congratulate myself on those big girl words that I managed to squeeze into one sentence.  And the fact that I just rhymed the crap out of pause and applause.  I am on a roll!::

I would like to share the interaction with you.  I will be using the following abbreviations:

MF- stands for Mother-Fucker AKA the bastard who felt he had the nerve to insult me without due cause.

BB- stands for Beautiful Bitch AKA me when I’m pissed off.

Keep in mind that this is how the conversation begins.

MF- Decent bod but not feeling the nose. U got anymore pics (THIS WAS HIS OPENING LINE)

BB- Congratulations! You’re the biggest scumbag of the day!  Thanks for the degrading comments to start my morning.  Much appreciated.  Have a great day!

MF- Just being honest (WHO ASKED YOU??)

MF- I don’t like weird shaped noses ginabear (Ginabear?  Wtf?  Are we cool now?)

MF- Its too masculine for me (SO WHY DID YOU MESSAGE ME AT ALL??? Also, there should be a damn apostrophe in “it’s”- you moron.)

MF- Ya dig? (I don’t dig. I’m not a fucking miner).

BB- So here’s an idea, don’t message me.

MF- Good idea.  Because I don’t appreciate your tone/nose (I don’t appreciate you pretending that being a dick is the same thing as being “honest.”  Honest is if I had asked for your opinion of my nose and received the same response.  What you did, sir, is just plain imbecilic, demeaning and RUDE).

Well folks, I suppose that’s it.  Clearly it’s time for me to get a nose job.  I’m just offending people left and right with my hideously “masculine,” “Italian” features.  If my face isn’t making men happy, clearly I have to change it.  Right?  That’s what society tells us, no?

If you’re not pretty enough, get some work done!  Boobs too small?  We’ve got silicone for that!  Nose too big?  We’ve got a scalpel for that!  Stomach too big?  We’ve got lipo for that!

Why the hell can’t we stop putting so much pressure on ourselves to look perfect?  You’re not perfect.  I’m not perfect.  MF is not even CLOSE to being perfect.  So let’s just work on loving who we are for more than what’s on the outside.  We are all going to age- things will start to sag, skin will wrinkle, hair will fall out and plenty of other stuff that I’m not ready to think about yet- but a good person will always be a good person.

So no, while I’m sure that a nose job would make me look better than I do now- my intention is not to change my looks (especially not because of a disgusting excuse for a man), but to change my attitude.

Don’t get me wrong, I highly doubt my sass is going anywhere- but my outlook on physical perfection has got to get the boot.

I am tired of hearing men tell me that I’m not fit enough or that my nose is too big or that my boobs are too small.  It’s my body!  If I like it, that’s all that matters.  If you don’t like it, there are a million fish in the sea, sweetheart.

Go fish.

 

 

The Writer’s Curse

Maybe it’s just me (although I highly doubt it), but being a writer certainly has its downfalls.  My mind is constantly racing with outlandish scenarios, that are most definitely a cause and/or effect of my anxiety.  (Honestly, that’s like the chicken or the egg- which came first?)

Sure, this trait has always kept me fairly entertained in boring classrooms (and sometimes boardrooms) BUT it can lead to disaster upon disaster.  Allow me to set the scene:

You’re about 15.  You’re the good kid in class, super quiet, super nice, always getting good grades.  The kind of kid the teacher thinks of highly.  Unfortunately, this teacher has the public speaking ability of a broken radiator and you start to distract yourself.  You think up a brilliant story about a fallen soldier in ‘Nam and the platoon that must set out to find him- – wait, that’s “Saving Private Ryan”.  You start over… you begin outlining an epic love story in your History notebook (the NSFW kind) and then…

“Miss ____, did you hear me?  Can you please tell us the date on which the Boston Tea Party took place?”

Shit.  Why do I care about the Boston Tea Party when I am clearly in the middle of a lover’s quarrel with Joaquin and Lissette?

“I…I don’t know.”

“I’m very disappointed in you, Miss ____.”

Ah, I’m very disappointed in you.  That shit cuts a good kid in the heart deeper than any bayonet ever could.  And that’s how it all starts- the never ending cyle of story after story.  Sometimes they are as brilliant as epic lovers Joaquin and Lissette (stay tuned for my novel…) and sometimes you just imagine your own shortcomings.  Not sure what I mean?  Stick with me here…

I, almost always, picture myself tripping up a flight of steps before taking the first step.  I envision the embarrassing and most public tumble that leaves me with a split lip and scraped elbows and knees.  I can hear and see the stifled giggles and snide looks of my co-workers and of strangers.  ALL OF THIS BEFORE I MOVE A MUSCLE.

Still not getting the picture?

My poor, poor boyfriends have suffered most from my anxious, story driven mind.  (I’m just kidding- I suffer most from my anxious, story driven mind).

However, since the chances of them reading this blog are slim to none, I am safe to apologize publicly- My apologies to all of my exes for my crazy but brilliant* mind.  Allow me to set the scene again:

The phone rings.

Him: “Babe, we have to talk.  It’s nothing to worry about but I want to say it in person.”

Oh god.  He’s cheating on me.  Her name is probably Amber.  She’s probably a blonde, size 0 with double D’s.  I hate Amber.  I hate him.

Oh god. He’s breaking up with me.  He’s running away to Rio with Joaquin.  God, I can’t believe he’s gay.  How didn’t I see this before?  Why??

Oh god.  He’s on drugs.  He has an addiction problem.  It’s ok.  I’ll get him help.  We can go to counseling.  We’ll get through this.

Oh god. He’s dying.  He just went to the doctor a few days ago.  He has cancer.  Oh my god.  WHY CAN’T YOU JUST TELL ME NOW??  WHO CARES IF IT’S OVER THE PHONE??

Reality- We meet up and he gives me a beautiful necklace and tells me that he loves me.

Aw, I’m so glad he didn’t tell me over the phone.

Or worse yet, I tend to write romantic comedies- it’s kind of my thing, SO that being said, I tend to have high expectations.  When they aren’t met, I get very disappointed even though those poor boys tried so hard.  (To the future boyfriends who may be reading this, I PROMISE that I am working on it.  Kinda.  Sorta.  Maybe. Bear with me).

Him: “Babe, I’m really excited for Valentine’s Day.  I promise it’s going to be awesome.”

Oh my god.  Maybe he rented a hotel suite.  There will be rose petals everywhere and a bubble bath and room service.  He knows that I love stuffed animals so I’m sure that he bought one just to be sweet.  Maybe I’ll get a nice massage too….  He’s so good to me.

Reality: We go to a fancy restaurant for dinner.  I get a very sweet card and a box of chocolates.

That’s it?!

(THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH THIS SCENARIO, but because it’s not what I’ve built up in my mind, I get upset).

Sometimes these stories provide simple entertainment, sometimes they provide all-consuming anxiety, and sometimes they end up in a blog online or a script in pre-production (stay tuned for my next short film…).

Some days, being a writer is great!  It’s such a fulfilling feeling to know that you have completed something.  You have put your thoughts to paper.

Some days, being a writer is hell on earth.  It’s a terrible feeling to think that none of what you’ve written is half as good as it sounded in your head.

Some days, it’s both.  But most days…

It’s hell on earth.

*I am the antithesis of conceited, so just assume that whenever I compliment myself that it is pure, unadulterated sarcasm.

Go To Bed with Gilda, Wake Up With Me

Rita Hayworth once said that “Every man I knew, went to bed with Gilda and woke up with me.”  Gilda was her most famous (and most sexually desired) character.

Shamefully, the only reason I know this quote is the classic Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts’ rom-com, “Notting Hill.”  (If you haven’t seen Notting Hill, go watch it right now.  Stop reading this silly blog and enjoy the glorious flowing man-locks of 90’s Hugh Grant).  Actually, forget that.  Go watch “Gilda.”

I mention this quote because it is so indicative of the way we view women today and it resonated with me.  No, no, I’m not implying that I am in anyway as fantastic as Rita Hayworth, but…

Wait.  Yes, I am implying just that.  I am implying that all women are as absolutely beautiful and feisty and smart and sexual as the ravishing Rita Hayworth.

Society tells women that we must be beautiful, sexual, brilliant, thin, talented, soft spoken, and all around perfect in order to be considered desirable.  Who can live up to those standards?

In the past, I have found myself buying into that theory- placing far too much emphasis on my physical appearance- to ensure that I too might be desirable.  But even Rita Hayworth, lauded as one of the most beautiful women in the world, took off her make-up at the end of the day.  She ceased to be what she allowed the public to see and went to bed as just…Rita.

 

We all wear a mask throughout our day.  We hide behind make-up, behind sarcasm, behind professionalism, and whatever other wall of choice.  We have a public persona that we choose to let others see, and only a select few special people get to know the real us.

I’ve stopped wearing make-up on a daily basis.  I didn’t want to hide behind a mask.  Do I feel prettier when I wear make-up?  Absolutely.  Do I feel less desirable without make-up?  Shamefully, yes.  Sometimes I need to get all gussied up to remind myself that I am desirable and for that, I get upset with myself.  I do not want to need that kind of validation.

The truth is- anybody looks good after hours of hair and make-up.  ANYBODY.  Just scroll up and see the proof.  Beauty is skin deep.  Your personality, your thoughts, your beliefs, your sense of humor, your intelligence and your attitude are what make you who you are.  You are only as desirable as you believe, and I mean that in more ways than one.

We are what we choose to be.

Do you want that job?  BELIEVE that you deserve it.  Do you want to feel pretty?  BELIEVE that you are pretty (because you are, dammit)!  Do you want that promotion?  BELIEVE that you will get it.  Do you want to be sexy?  BELIEVE that you are sexy.

I know that it can sound silly, but it’s true.  Confidence makes all the difference.  You are not the mask you wear.  Take off the make-up (figuratively or literally, you get to choose!) and be confident in who you are.

rita quote

Rita struggled to feel loved for who she was and perhaps my analogy is extreme (We can’t all be rich and successful, world famous actors purporting to be the image of perfection) BUT I stand by the sentiment.  We don’t always show our true self to the world and that’s okay, but make sure to let your guard down and show yourself, without the mask, to those who really count.

Everyone wants to be loved for who they really are, so take the time to take off the mask and figure out who that is.  Then you can choose who sees the mask, and who doesn’t.

❤ G

 

 

 

 

 

New Year, Same Me

New Year New Me

The New Year is fast approaching and you know me, I’m not one to miss a chance to post about a clichéd, yet nuanced  tradition!

But I’m going to give it to you straight, I don’t plan on becoming a “New Me” for the new year.  I am in a constant state of transition.  Every day I become a new me. Don’t you?

Every day a new thought pops into my head.  Half the time they are absolutely ridiculous like, “If the Sanderson sisters had been dead for 300 years, how did they know exactly how to use a microphone for their epic ‘I Put a Spell On You’ dance number?” or “Italian sounds so much prettier than English- an Italian man could spend an hour describing a carrot to me and I will have already accepted his proposal, married him, and had his child in in my head in that time.”  But you know, those are just the thoughts that keep me sane and giggling to myself in a corner.  (That’s the definition of sane, right?)

In addition to those Einstein level realizations, I do have the occasional meaningful thought.  One day I thought, “I want to help promote independent film and encourage aspiring film-makers to follow their dreams.”  Want to know what happened?  I created a successful film festival.  And it’s great.  (Rahway International Film Festival– check it out.)

My point is, every day will bring you new ideas and no one says that you have to wait until January 1st to make a move.  (If they do, stop talking to them.  You don’t need that kind of negativity in your life.)

I will always be “me.”  I am both the same and new.  Every day brings something new- new lessons, new ideas, new plans, new skin cells…all that jazz.  My values remain the same, my morals remain the same even as my hopes and dreams evolve.

Start today, start tomorrow, start in March, who cares.  Start when you are ready to make a change.  You don’t need to reinvent yourself for the new year.  You should accept who you are and do everything in your power to become the best version of yourself that you can be – starting on any day that you damn well please.

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Invisible Scars (Escaping the Abuse)

I wonder…how many of us know what constitutes emotional abuse?

In a world of fine lines, what is too much and what is normal?  Normal is such a relative word and sometimes, I find myself making excuses for those crossing that oh so fine, near invisible, line – myself included.

I know what it is to be in an abusive relationship, even though it took me years to recognize it.  I know how easy it is to ignore the signs.  I know how hard it can be to overcome.  I know the damage it can cause.  The scars don’t just disappear and if you’re not careful, they will only grow deeper.

I am not a psychologist and I will not pretend to know more than I do. You may agree with what I say or you may not.  That choice is yours.

That being said, I would like to point out that abuse does not reside only in romantic relationships.  Friends, family, co-workers, and employers are all capable of emotional and mental abuse.  I won’t belittle any one relationship by saying that one is easier to leave than another.  Who am I to say that you should quit your job because your boss is abusive?  You may not be financially stable enough to give up the paycheck.  But keep looking for new work, you WILL find something with persistence!  Breaking up with a friend can be just as difficult, if not more devastating than losing a romantic partner.  If you feel couples therapy (yes, for a friendship too) is worth it, then go for it.  If you feel that confrontation is dangerous, by all means, please don’t put yourself in harm’s way!

Life is not easy.  Asking for help is not easy.  Confronting an abuser is not easy (and not always recommended).  My wish for those suffering is that you realize that you are WORTH IT and that you find the strength to do what it takes to help yourself.

YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL.  YOU ARE SMART.  YOU ARE TALENTED.

YOU ARE WONDERFUL.

YOU ARE VALUED. 

If you think that you are in an abusive relationship (or if you recognize abusive qualities in yourself) and are having trouble , please seek help.  Please talk to a professional.  I know this is easier said than done but then again…what isn’t?

Check out the article here to review the signs of emotional abuse.  It may not leave the same scars as physical abuse, but the scars remain  just the same.

If you are suffering or know someone suffering from emotional abuse, please see these organizations below.  Both women AND men can be victims of abuse.

http://www.womenshealth.gov/violence-against-women/types-of-violence/emotional-abuse.html

http://www.bandbacktogether.com/emotional-abuse-resources/

http://www.helpguide.org/articles/abuse/domestic-violence-and-abuse.htm

http://www.people.com/article/california-moving-company-moves-domestic-violence-victism-free

Finally, A Note for Everyone- especially around the stressful holiday season- Remember to tell those you love that you love them.  Tell them what they mean to you.  Please don’t assume that they “just know.”  It is so important to TELL our loved ones how we feel.  You never know when you may lose that opportunity.

Take care of yourselves and those you love.  God bless.

❤ G

 

 

 

Another Year Older

IT’S ALMOST MY BIRTHDAY!  IT’S ALMOST MY BIRTHDAY!

I’m not sure why I’m excited.  I don’t exactly like getting older but I still enjoy the little bit of attention I get simply by aging.

Look at me everyone, I’ve gotten older!  Quite impressive, no?

A brief conversation with my five year old nephew recently put everything into perspective: (Imagine this in cute little-kid-speak)

Friend: Gina is turning 28 soon!

Nephew:  Oh.  That’s old.

Me:  Well, it’s not THAT old.  It’s not like I’m 100.

Nephew:  No.  You’re OLDER than 100! ::giggle:: ::giggle::

We’ll work on those math skills after my heart stops breaking…

(I’m kidding.  He’s actually super smart and good at math but he looooves his jokes).

While I may not be 100, I have learned a good amount in my 28 years on this earth.  I hadn’t really taken the time to reflect on my life as of late, but in recent days, it felt necessary.

Maybe I’m not where I want to be right now but I have come a long way and I have fought to get here.  I often find that I treat myself more harshly than any other outsides critics, and while I know this is fairly typical- we are our own worst enemy- I don’t want to continue this way.

And so…for my birthday, I am writing to remind myself that I’m actually pretty cool.  I am not going to sit here tooting my own horn, but I will say that I have grown as a human being and for that, I am proud.

I have become bolder.  I demand respect.  I take risks.  I make plans.  I pray.  I work.  I play.  I love.  I laugh.

I’m not the same little girl who used to hide behind her mother when people spoke.  I’m not the same girl who allows others to use her.  I’m not the same girl who kept her mouth shut.

I have grown in more than just age and I am proud.  Twenty eight years has taught me so much and I can only imagine what the next twenty eight will bring.

Never stop learning.  Never stop growing.  Never stop changing.  I hope that you (and I) will learn to appreciate every little bit of life (even when life gets tough, because that’s when we learn the most).

Thank you for reading. 🙂

❤ G

 

 

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

Christmas is coming!  Christmas is coming!

Having just spent my “Black Friday” turning my town into a veritable Winter Wonderland, I am most definitely in the Christmas spirit. I’ve got my Christmas music on repeat, 24/7. It’s still November and I’ve already begun sending out Christmas cards because I AM SO EXCITED!

This is my favorite of all of the holiday seasons. I begin December with my birthday (which is all about me!) and then I get to spend the rest of the month singing (off key) to all of my favorite holiday songs and show-tunes (Oh yes, there will be show-tunes)!

There will be colorful lights, bows, Santas, reindeer, sleighs, mistletoe, CHRISTMAS TREES, Christmas movies and oh so much happiness!

How can anyone NOT be excited during the Christmas season?  Everything is just so…well…MERRY.  Heck, just walking down the Christmas aisle at Walgreens made me tear up a bit.  (I’m a really emotional person.  I just hide it well – well, when I’m not blogging).

People are nicer, kinder and much more giving over the holidays.  This is the season that breeds good deeds.  What’s not to love?

I am sure that I will be blogging about Christmas much more throughout the month of December but I needed to get out a little bit of my excitement for now.  My gift to you, for now, is ABC Family’s holiday lineup!  Check it out below and make sure you catch “Arthur Christmas,” it’s one of my favorites.

Happy Holidays!!

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Gracias, Obrigado, Grazie, Merci & Thank You

I have spent the last few weeks marvelling at all of the things for which I am thankful.  Thanksgiving is fast approaching and while this post is rather timely, I wanted to write it not to jump on the gravy train, pardon the pun, (or don’t- haters gonna hate) but because giving thanks truly has been my saving grace over the past few months.

My religious beliefs may differ from yours, and that’s okay, but in constantly thanking God lately, I have felt much better about everything in my life.  I say this knowing that this has been one of my most difficult years, but I am still here and for that, I am grateful.

Maybe you don’t believe in God.  Maybe you believe in a different God. Maybe you believe in a Greater Power.  I don’t know your beliefs and I don’t need to because no matter what you believe, being grateful for all that you have is the wise and healthy choice.

There have been a great many struggles that I’ve faced this year, but I won’t waste any more time dwelling on the past.  I am doing my best to keep a positive outlook and remain thankful for EVERYTHING.

I am thankful for my employment, for the roof over my head, for my family and friends who love me and have been nothing but supportive in times of need, for the lessons I’ve learned, and for the fact that ABC Family has had a Disney marathon on all evening.

Sometimes, even the simplest things can make a difference.  Be positive.  Smile.  Say thank you. Love your life, even when it gets difficult.  I promise that it won’t stay that way forever.

Merry Thanksgiving to all and to all a good night. 😉

Give-thanks-

Is This Love?- “New Girl” Revelations

I have always wondered how it could be possible to be in love with more than one person.  But now, NOW…I know.

new-girl-guys-w724

I have very recently started binge-watching “New Girl” (thanks to my glorious boyfriend, Netflix) and I have without warning fallen in love with Schmidt, Nick, Winston, AND Coach.  That’s not even a triangle anymore.  That’s a pentagon.

I am in a love pentagon.

Does it count as a love-agon if none of them love me back?  (And the only reason that they don’t love me back is that they haven’t met me.  I mean, come on now, who wouldn’t love me?)

Sorry, guys.  I threw $5 in the Douchebag Jar for that last sentence.

Moving along…

My obsession with New Girl has taught me a lot about myself.

#1: I fall in love with tropes- quite easily and quite shamefully.  

These characters have moments of tenderness and genuine humanity but most often they are caricatures of real people.  Schmidt is the insecure romantic hiding it with an obnoxious level of bravado and machismo; Nick is the clueless, curmudgeon who will never live up to his potential, Winston is the handsome guy who you wouldn’t expect to be as doofy or lacking in game as he actually is, and Coach…well Coach is kind of a lot like Winston if Winston were Damon Wayans.  Oh…wait.

But I don’t care, dammit!  I love them and their tropey tropeness because real men with real problems and real feelings are just too damn complicated.  Which leads me to my next lesson.

# 2: I love falling in love with fictional characters because they will NEVER break my heart.

Real love is scary.  Storybook characters, television characters, and movie characters will never leave me.  Even when their storyline ends…I can just go back and re-read or re-watch.  Not one of them will use me, laugh at me, or leave me.

They are perfection.

#3: I admire bad ass bitches with a heart of gold moreso than the overtly sweet, bubble gum good girls.

That’s code for I like CeCe better than Jess.  (Jess is the tropiest of tropey tropes in a negative way.  ::Insert Manic Pixie Dreamgirl here::  She plays the wounded baby bird too often.  GET A HOLD OF YOUR LIFE, GIRL).

Disclaimer- I still really like Zooey Deschanel.

1x05-CeCe-Crashes-new-girl-26696543-1280-720The truth of it is that I can relate more to CeCe (minus the part about being a drop dead gorgeous and gainfully employed model) but…I just get her.  She’s not as tough as she likes to act.  She is a romantic at heart but sees her emotions as a weakness and does everything in her power to deflect attention from her true feelings.

I get you, girl.  I. Get. You.

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If you forced me to choose just one of these beautiful characters to love (by holding my chocolate stash hostage or something equally as traumatizing) I would have to choose CeCe.  I can only hope to be half as cool as CeCe one day.

Oh, was I supposed to choose a guy?  Fine.  Schmidt.  My guy will always be Schmidt- the successful and secretly insecure romantic hiding beneath an idiotic bravado.

Clearly, I have great taste in men.

So…who wants to play “True American”?