A New Orleans Proposal

I remember how Sarah described Ryan to me over the phone, she said he was funny, nice, and very sweet. She said he was from Henry County, a place that I live but a stone toss away from, and he grew up in a Baptist family. But Sarah was on the fence about him, because she'd just broken up with her first college boyfriend and didn't want Ryan to be a rebound. But, it would appear he won her over and she tossed all cautions aside.

She also told me he comes from the kind of family and community that it's expected to see an engagement not too long after dating for a year. I couldn't even imagine that, especially considering we were both freshman in college and he was about to go off to graduate school for pharmacy.

But, this meant I wasn't surprised when they fell hard for each other. Ryan gave Sarah several fine pieces of jewelry, but the most perfect piece was the ring her gave her in New Orleans.

The poor boy tried his hardest to keep the engagement a surprise, but Sarah had it figured out before we even packed up the car. 

She texted me and our other two best friends, Becca and Lynnzi, while I was at work. If you want to know how I felt google "Parks and Recreation Ron's Wedding" and watch the first video. You'll witness my favorite Andy moment, which is his dramatic gasp when Diane enters the scene, and my exact reaction to Sarah telling us she had suspicions that Ryan was going to propose. I spent the rest of my shift antsy about the entire thing. Hoping he'd have a photographer prepared so you could see me in the background flipping out, sobbing, and being a total wreck. 

Once I was released I drove down to Lexington to stay with Sarah for the night and listen to all the details of why she thought Ryan would propose. She explained that he'd turned his location off while shopping with his family, he'd asked her not to go to his apartment without him, even though she did that regularly. And, her Mom has no poker face. I'd grabbed a bottle of blue nail polish at Kroger on my way down to Lexington and painted her nails, a little shaky thinking about how they'd look with a ring on them.

By the time we fell asleep, innocently discussing ideal proposals and wedding plans Sarah had convinced herself it was all in her head.

Of course, this fact didn't stop her from begging me to ask Ryan bluntly if he was going to propose, considering texting her parents saying "IT HAPPENED!" to see what they would say, and even making several obvious hints about proposals. The latter included her saying "I had a dream last night I got proposed to. In New Orleans." And as best friend, I decided to pitch in, "In a restaurant?" As I knew she would Sarah rejected the idea, and luckily Ryan is smart and said, "Good. Because you told me not to propose to you in a restaurant."

The entire drive down was pretty much Sarah and I side eyeing Ryan, trying to figure out his game plan.

While I took a faded in and out of a nap in the backseat I overheard Ryan and Sarah talking about their plans. Ryan wanted to do a fancy dinner and a carriage ride, made extra romantic with a third wheel.

Side note: Sarah and I are both very comfortable with each other. We are almost constantly touching and telling each other how beautiful they are. It's not surprising if people think we're gay. But, of course,

Side, side note: My goal is to have seen Parks and Rec so many times I have a reference for evetyhing. Doing good so far!

Anyways. Romantic date night, featuring Paige. So, this wasn't the end of it. Ryan also wanted to stop at the French Quarters and take pictures in front of this giant, scenic cathedral. Pictures. This is when Sarah started side eyeing him SO HARD!

I mentioned his background, he's a pretty humble and quiet person. Not really one who's super excited about pictures. Even on vacation. This was a huge hint. And even though Sarah had texted our group chat again, confessing her doubts, I still remained hopeful, enjoying this mystery.

We arrived at the hotel and settled in, unpacking, and continuing to make plans. Sarah casually mentioned the weather tomorrow was going to be poor, and that was the day we were going to "take pictures." Well, Ryan was pretty upset about that. He didn't get angry or visibly anxious, but it took him a bit to accept the fact that the weather would not be proposal perfect. He searched online to see when exactly would be the best time to do our fancy meal, and where we could go for breakfast.

His reaction to the weather was a huge hint, but the fact that he didn't have a dinner destination in mind, or have a carriage secured made me doubt that it was actually happening. Ryan is organized, he is smart, in my mind he would've had a plan locked down before we got in the car for New Orleans. Since I had nothing to really lose or gain from this situation, I smiled at all the conflicting information.

One of the things Sarah had noticed in the past week was Ryan being secretive with what was in his pockets. She'd seen him dip in his parents car and shove something in his pockets before they parted from dinner. This was after he'd turned his location off. When she asked, he fired back with, "Why are you being noisy about what's in my pockets?" I heard this line for myself on the car ride down, though he didn't have the ring in his pockets, he was just commenting on Sarah's curiosity. He also refused to let her search his backpack in the hotel.

He had left his toiletry bag in the car, but Sarah wanted to make sure it wasn't just in his backpack. He was very adamant about her not looking in his bag, and eventually directed her to the door so they could go to the car for it. After they'd left I was tempted to peak in the backpack, but I just wanted to play Jessica Fletcher and solve the mystery the fair way. (I was gonna say Bert Macklin, FBI, but I figured Jessica Fletcher would be more universal.) Of course, when Sarah came back she hopped in the shower, and Ryan asked, "Do you wanna know a secret?"

I jumped on their bed to pinkie promise not to tell Sarah. Then, he dug into his backpack and pulled out the box. The ring was beautiful. It was rose gold, had a halo setting, and the most beautiful pink stone ever seen.

"For reals, for reals?" I asked, a mix of unable to find the words and not wanting to blurt "OMG WE KNEW IT!!!!"

"For reals, for reals." He said, revealing his plan as if it wasn't obvious to us. "I'm gonna do it during pictures," duh, "do you think Sarah knows?"

As a polite person I responded, "I think she has her suspicions, but she's convinced herself it's not actually going to happen." Which was half true. She was going back and forth.

I'd like to note that I thought I'd get more of a heads up when Sarah was getting proposed to. She had made it very clear he needed her parent's permission, and her best friends. That included me and the girls. This way, I could've sent Ryan the picture of a ring Sarah had texted me saying it was her dream ring (though the one he made her was absolutely perfect), then taken her to get our nails done, so they'd be picture perfect. Sarah had asked if she should get her nails done or buy a new dress for the trip and he encouraged it, telling her to do what makes her happiest. She ended up not doing either, but luckily I was there with Tiffany blue nail polish the night before we left. Not that her gold nail polish didn't look good, but the blue really matched the pink stone. I'm telling you, her actual ring out shines any of the rings she had on Pinterest.

I returned to my bed and curled into the same position I'd been before, scrolling through Buzzfeed, trying not to freak out when Sarah returned from the shower.

She told me afterwards that I was very good at keeping it a secret, even though she was pretty positive it was going to happen. It was hard though, especially when we were alone the morning before it happened. Trying not to reveal too much I looked at her after fixing a couple of spots on her nails and said, "By the time we get back to this hotel, we'll know."

Poor Sarah was nervous. But, there wasn't a lot to worry about. Sure, this is a big moment that we'll remember for the rest of our lives, but I knew she'd say yes. Whenever Ryan and Sarah fought, or Sarah talked about how much she loved Ryan she'd always say, "I mean, if he got down on one knee tomorrow I'd say yes. In a heartbeat."

This is probably why Ryan told me he wasn't nervous that morning. He confessed that the thought of her saying "no" didn't even cross his mind. He knew she loved him to the moon and back.

So, the big day began. In Ryan's mind I'm sure it went very smoothly. He'd reserve a table at a nice restaurant, as well as a carriage ride that involved flowers and Christmas lights and romantic music. Then, they'd look at the city in all it's glory before arriving at the square. In the moonlight they'd pose for pictures, and Sarah would be so caught up in the romance of it she would be absolutely blown away when he got down on one knee. Then, as she let out happy tears, he'd confess his love in the most elegant way, before asking, "Will you marry me?"

Sarah would shout "Yes! A thousand times, yes!" While he slide the ring on her finger, joy overflowing from his heart. And I would be there too, taking the pictures, screaming and crying, reveling in the movie-like scene.

Of course, that's not how it went. We rushed to a breakfast place, trying to get to the Cathedral before it started pouring. It was a lovely place. A little casual, so we were slightly out of place in skirts and dresses, but the food was soooo good! I geared the conversation towards memory lane, asking Ryan for his side of the story when asking Sarah out. Then, I suggested they were the perfect mix of sweet and savory. I took innocent pictures of them, hoping to scrapbook them as "Three hours before she said 'yes!'" But, Sarah had noted the large box shape that Ryan's cargo shorts pocket had taken.

Ryan, the box was beautiful, but a little bulky.

When Sarah went to wash her hands before eating I asked Ryan if he was nervous. As you know, he wasn't. His only fear was that the box would fall out, even though it was safely secured in the pocket. He was also worried about the rain and carriage ride. I told him what I like most about significant days, "Anything that goes wrong will just become a memory."

Sometimes the things that go wrong are horrible, like if Sarah were to say "no." But other times there things that you can smile about almost immediately after it happens.

After breakfast we walked to the carriages, which were conveniently in front of the Cathedral. It was already starting to sprinkle, and the clouds hung dark and heavy over us. We went down the line of carriages, but each one said they were turning in because of the rain. Finally, we ended up standing next to another family that wanted to ride, which must've been why one of the drivers told us to hop on. He assured us he wasn't worried because he talked real loud.

With my rose colored sun glasses on, I climbed in the carriage. I thought to myself, "We'll be dry under the cover! The driver is just worried about the sound of the rain! This is great. Memories!" It wasn't private, since we had the other family, and covered the history of New Orleans, which doesn't sound really romantic. But, Sarah is an architecture major who wants to focus on historical preservation as a career, so when they talked about the history of the buildings and Ryan was by her side, I imagine it was similar to foreplay. Of course, I was on her other side.

It started to rain cats and dogs about four minutes into the tour. I was quickly soaked on my right side thanks to that fine New Orleans wind and rain. I think the driver also regretted his decision. He tried to block the rain with an umbrella, but it wasn't much use. I could hardly look towards the buildings on my right side because the rain was coming in, or the nice decorative fringe on the cover would slap me with water as it swayed in the wind. Sarah stayed mostly dry, still getting misted a little when the wind blew hard enough, but Ryan and I blocked most of it. It was her day, she was the princess.

Whenever the tour guide would say "You'll notice the architecture," Ryan and I would look at Sarah in the goofiest ways. We were like two parents showing their pride in their child's knowledge. At the word "Architecture" the two of us would be like, "Hey! You! You know these words and definitions! So smart! Wow!" And Sarah, graceful as ever would be like, "Yes, I know!" Though, she told us he was incorrect about one style of pillar.

When we finished the tour it was still pouring. The line to Cafe Du Monde was too long to wait in, so we ducked into their gift shop. I was freezing after this trip, and my skirt was officially see-through on the right side. I purchased a large sweatshirt and put it on as soon as I could.

I really felt like the belle of the ball. Also, Sarah told me not to outshine her, so I just decided to step it up a notch and dress as if I was taking the walk of shame, New Orleans style. 

It continued to rain for the next few hours. But, the tour guide had told us about a museum near by and we decided to visit. It was the Hurricane Katrina visit, and though it was very sobering and unusual to do before a proposal, I enjoyed the museum. It was heart breaking, and informative, and brought to light a lot of stuff I wasn't told about this disaster. 

Then, on the second floor was the Mardi Gras museum. It was colorful, and sometimes creepy, but mostly glamorous. We had our fun trying to figure out how the parade float stimulator worked, and picking out the perfect crown for Sarah, and reading out the different float traditions. Outside the rain had eased up, but we wanted it to clear up some more. Also, here is a picture of the lovely couple at the museum, and in it you can see how wet Ryan had gotten and how dry Sarah stayed:

Folks, that's true love. 

We found a restaurant with a bar and settled in. Luckily, they were also playing the college basketball game on the TV. UK was playing, and Ryan wanted to catch it. We (he) watched the tail end of the game, and Sarah and I drank delicious sugary drinks. I mentioned I was taking pictures of them, so here is my favorite "1 hour before he gets down on one knee!"

Sarah is a true goddess, I tell ya. 

After the Cats won (77/72, just for everyone's reference) the sun came out. Sarah and I hoped for rainbows, as it was a true miracle that it was so pretty outside. We finished our drinks and then Sarah and I headed to the bathroom. She confessed she was nervous, but I was excited. We talked about how crazy it would be if we had to start planning a wedding, but also how exciting it would be! 

The square was just across the street from the restaurant we were at, and everyone was out and about that afternoon. I followed behind Sarah, as she surveyed the landscape, stopping at a few flower patches and shady trees, but deciding against it. She then made a b-line for the fountain, she knew it was the perfect spot, and that's where Ryan had planned to it anyways. 

2 minutes until engagement!! 

"Do you have a game plan?" I asked Ryan, expecting him to say he was gonna get down when she wasn't looking, but he didn't. He just handed me his phone with the camera ready to go. 

I started a video on my phone and snapped several photos on his phone. Then, the glory happened. Ryan turned to Sarah and said, "Actually I have one more picture I want to take." To which Sarah, the beautiful, nosey, sunflower said, "I know you do." 

We were in front of a crowd and no one was reacting, so I tried to give my best enthusiastic "YAY!" As I could to A) Act surprised even though I wasn't, and B) Get them some applause and maybe an "aw" or two, but it came out super sarcastic. As soon as I started saying "Yay!" I regretted it. I knew it'd sound weird on camera, and it didn't sound genuine at all. The rest of the trip was us saying "yaaaayyy" and "I know" to each other. 

Sarah and Ryan Facetimed their parents and friends, and I texted our best friends and my boyfriend. I sent videos and pictures galore, I jumped for joy with Sarah because she and Ryan are in love and life was good! The ring was perfect, she was perfect, the day was perfect! Even if some details didn't go as Ryan had planned. 

We retreated to the hotel to change into dry clothes, and so I could make a Walgreens trip to get hand sanitizer, water, and some make up wipes. Much needed items. Couldn't go another second without them. Then, Sarah scheduled herself an appointment for the day after we returned home at the Couture Closet in my hometown, LaGrange. Google that places. It's local and beautiful and I have dreamed of trying on the dresses in the window since I was a little girl. 

Sarah's sister turned down the maid of honor position, so Sarah got down on one knee and asked me! I was so happy, and so ready to plan this wedding. We also began to clean out her Pinterest so we could re-organize an official wedding board. We talked so much about wedding planning that Ryan got annoyed with us. But, we couldn't help it. I wanted to plan the wedding in a single day, and I still do. But, there's a lot that goes into it, so it's a process. 

But, I'm enjoying every second. I can't wait for these two to tie the knot! 

Waiting for breakfast before he popped the big question 💗

Update: My Life Still Revolves Around Books

I have a long list of things I need to buy. I'm not very good at routinely shopping, so I usually wait until I have a massive amount of things I need then buy them slowly over time. So, I am working through my list, which includes a purse and a wallet.

My only criterial for the wallet: Must have a coin pouch/pocket.

My only criteria for my purse: Must fit a book in it.

Again, books are life.




Sorry for the short post. I am very tired. I returned from New Orleans (more on that later) last night, which included an hour and a half drive through a mild snow storm. Then, I woke up early to visit my boyfriend, Duffy, before meeting up with my best friend, Sarah. I met Sarah at work so we could buy her a wedding planner, then we went wedding dress shopping. Super wonderful time, but now I could sleep for days.
Goodnight.

TBH, My Life Revolves Around Books

The adults told me to work where I wanted a discount, and being the aspiring writing I am of course I wanted a discount on books. At this store I help people remember my name by saying, "I'm Paige, like a book," and then motioning to the bookshelves. I also thrive on people saying I look/act like Luna Lovegood (See "My Career Goals Paired with My Affinity for CATS, the Musical" for the poll on if I have a Luna vibe). It is no surprise that my life revolves around books.

But, recently I noticed to what extreme it went. Well, maybe not extreme, but it's getting a little wild.

I have had two cars in this lifetime, and one day I shall make a long post about the wonders of my first car. But, the important thing to note in relation to this blog post is that the first one was named "Maureen" and the second "Johnson."

As in, Maureen Johnson the young adult fiction author, BFF with John Green, Cassandra Claire and others, and a strong member of the Twitter community. The latter is how I fell in love with this sassy woman. I have deleted twitter, but I did love her tweets and just saw while googling her that she met Lin-Manuel Miranda, which is super dope. Anyways, I was on twitter when I got my first car, and I hear it is bad luck to not name your first car (that car needed all the luck it could get to get me from point A to point B without crumbling to pieces). So, I chose her. She was funny, I'd read several of her books at this point, she was BFFs with other authors which is #Goals, and she started that cool movement about gender flipping book covers. 

By the time my second car came to be, it just seemed natural that I finish out the name. Also, my last car had a million problems, but this one seems to have one problem and that is I've gotten two flat tires while driving it. So, it is a mild stress relief to shout "JOHNSON!" at my car when I am upset at it. I feel like an 1857 detective with an assistant who is an imbecile. 

Now, we all name things after our heroes and people we admire. Some people just don't go with authors. There is probably a young man driving his first car, Peyton Manning. Or, a teenage woman jamming to the newest song with her car, Malala. But, do these two people make clothing decisions based on their heroes and passions?

I am a sucker for floral designs, and for beautiful book covers. I've learned control, but there have been times where I would buy three hardback books a week because the covers were just SO WONDERFUL! I mean, the books were good, but the covers man. I'm talking The Faithful by Alice Hoffman (Or, as I like to call it: woman rescues (steals) five dogs while dealing with depression and survivors guilt), and Wink Poppy Midnight by April Genevieve Tucholke. But especially The Muse by Jessie Burton.

Oh man, oh man that dark green with the ecclectic symbols and images scattered intentionally across the cover. IT'S JUST SO AESTHETICALLY PLEASING! And, the paperback has like a yellow background and I just, like, can't. 

Side note: This is also a very good book.

But, this book caught my attention and I just had to have it. Then, weeks later I found a shirt that I felt a similar pull to. People give me compliments on this shirt frequently, and I always tell them: "Thanks. I bought it because it reminded me of this book cover I love." 

The last time someone gave me this compliment I had to stop and think about it. I admitted to the woman, "You can tell what my life revolves around, can't you?" Because clearly, I love books, and therefore I am just trying to immerse myself in the world of books.

Or... I am trying to become one myself. 

"Hi, welcome to the bookstore! I'm Paige, like a book. And, my shirt was purchased because it looks like this amazing books, please buy it so I may continue to put gas in the car I named after a beloved author." 

PLZ READ THIS BOOK BECAUSE I NEED TO DISCUSS IT WITH SOMEONE

Alright kids, it's time to talk books. Over the years I have had many different books, and I hope to have the chance to tell you about all of them*. This week, as I am researching for my senior seminar piece, I have had the opportunity to re-read two of my favorite books. One of which is I'll Give You the Sun, which I will review in detail later. But, there is this part early on where one of the main characters, Jude, is asked if there is any art piece that she has to build, is there this idea that is in her that's about to erupt and needs to be released. Of course there is, and this begins her journey in the story. Well, I just had one of those moments reading one of my current favorite books, We Were Liars by E. Lockhart while trying really hard to not listen in to the discussion on my left about creating a dance performance, and the conversation on my left about putting a website and instagram link on something. I knew I had to write a blogpost, which I consider my "website," and this book is so ferociously amazing as I re-read it that I put it down and ran to my car. I left my purse and phone on the table, trusting the man planning the dance performance, Eli, because I trust him and once wrote a monologue about the time he drunkenly won a huge basket of meat.

So, here I am, wanting to tell you to read, and then re-read We Were Liars (WWL). I try to hand sell this book all the time, because, as I said to one customer looking for a gift for a distance cousin, "I don't know why anyone wouldn't like this book."

Fact: If you are looking for your next favorite book check to see if your favorite author has any recommendations. WWL and The Art of Fielding were both recommendations from John Green.

To any non-Penguin Random House associated employer looking at my blog, I pinkie promise I read other publishers, and I can provide a list of wonderful books from you from which I have read, but right now this post is a little Penguin Random House saturated.

To any Penguin Random House employers reading my blog: Girl, I love what you do.

To any who are thinking of hiring me: Please do.

OH MY GOD! WWL. So, this is a book that pulled me in because I wasn't impressed by the description John Green gave me, but jeezum crow that opening page. With the poetic mantra that is repeated: "Welcome to the beautiful Sinclair family...We are Sinclairs. / No one is needy. / No one is wrong." A similar mantra is first found in the next couple of pages, "Be normal, now, she said. Right now, she said. Because you are. Because you can be. Don't cause a scene, she told me. Breath and sit up. I did what she asked." I am a real sucker for poetic format in books, whether magnificent metaphors and images (John Green, Jandy Nelson, Erin Morgenstern, etc.) or this clear as day poems with enjambment and a disregard for capitalization as right here in this moment! I also love characters that I adamantly hate.

Reading this the first time I was intrigued. I love stories about rich people who are just so terrible at approaching problems and feelings that it causes a million different problems and makes me want to rip my hair out. Those are the best. If I have to slam a book shut out of frustration, you know it's good. So, yeah, this kind of talk is expected. Of course Candace, our main character, is told to act like her dad didn't just leave them, of course Granny didn't die. Everything is fine. We are Sincalirs.

But the second time... Oh Lord-y! These pack a much heavier punch.

You see, this book has a magnificent plot twist, as we can expect as we follow Candace on her journey to remember what happened two summers ago that led to her floating in the ocean, practically naked.

Here is what I am learning: Every book with a plot twist should be re-read. So you can catch the tiny little hints that the author gives. Words that meant nothing the first read mean everything the second read. I love puns. I think they're funny. But I also love puns in dramatic sense. The way a word "ashes" mean nothing the first time around, but break your soul the second time you read. That was the word that got me to this point. So, you should probably read to find out why this book made me sob ugly tears (like in The Book Thief) for the last couple of chapters.

I will also say I probably have a bias to this book. I enjoyed it so much because I related to it. Not because my family went on vacations to their private island with individual double or triple story houses. But, because I love my cousins so much. They're really cool people. Much like the Sinclairs there are a chunk of us that were born within the same year and a half, some only differing in age by two weeks, or two days. At family events we cluster together, no matter how much we grow up, and think about our youth as well as discussing our futures.

We may have never gone to Beechwood Island, but we did go on a trip yearly to the same house on Psalm Island, South Caroline. We loved that blue house, and the short walk to the beach, and the dramatic rooftop porch. That week of summer was always magical. I'd talk about it all school year, telling stories of "my cousin Savannah/Danny/Jordan/Mitchell" and everything we did that summer.

So, when the big reveal comes and Candace remembers what happened two summers ago, I sobbed. I sobbed and sobbed.

GUYS, IT'S SUCH A GOOD BOOK. AND I CAN'T TELL YOU WHY I SOBBED AND I JUST NEED SOMEONE TO KNOW SO WE CAN DISCUSS IT. SO. PLZ READ.


Book reviews to expect, so you should probably read up:
1. The Hate U Give by Angie Thompson
2. Simon v the Homo Sapien Agenda by Becky Albertalli
3. The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach
4. The Midnight Circus by Erin Morgenstern
5. Bossypants by Tina Fey
6. Code Name Verity / Rose Under Fire by Elizabeth Wein
7. I'll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson
8. Basically, check out my Goodreads and read everything there.

Poem's for Duffy (Kissy face, kissy face, kissy face)

I.          

When I was younger I began

Putting daydreams to paper,

Imagining the perfect date:

Christian and Julie (though originally Sage)

Planted a garden, and then

Returned indoors to read a book together.

Lazy Sunday sun shines down on their couch

Where their feet and legs mingle in the middle

Each going at their own pace, munching on apples.

Now that I have you

Fantasy becomes reality.

Though the structure is veered, it is

Perfect in its own unique fashion.

II.          

You play video games on your Xbox.

 An activity I don’t participate in,

 While I enjoy quietly reading my book.

 Video games are not my forte, and

 It’s sometimes hard for me to grasp why

 You play video games on your Xbox.

 Though you’ve tried to read with me,

 Divergent, you still look at me in curiosity

 While I enjoy quietly reading my book.

 But, because I adore you, I don’t complain

 When sitting on the couch, simply watching

 You play video games on your Xbox.

 And, since you adore me, and

 Want me at your side, you do work,

 While I enjoy quietly reading my book.

 They say do what you love,

 So we do, but do it with who we love—

 You play video games on your Xbox,

 While I enjoy quietly read my book.

III.

Our greatest fights are food oriented.

We love to eat out,

Especially at local joints we discovered by chance or recommendation.

But, we always have the hardest time deciding.

You complain about being hungry,

About not knowing what to do,

Debating health and taste,

And I try to sit back and calmly

Let you work it out and decide.

Of course, this isn’t a great tactic,

You are always aware of me,

Always taking care of me,

Therefore, always turning to me and asking,

“Where do you want to go?”

While you lay on the floor,

Or face plant into a pillow,

Or stubbornly wait for me to give an answer,

I will say I don’t care and list off the food I want—

It’s usually noodles—

But I avoid definitive answers that make the decision.

You complain some more,

I try to force you into a decision,

We may yell,

We may fall into hangry silence,

Scrolling through lists of best restaurants and menus,

Or sometimes Instagram.

These aren’t our best moments,

And it is aggravating how hard it can be

To just decide where the hell we’re gonna eat at that moment.

But in the end,

We end up on the same team,

Because of our love—

Our love for food is united and determined.

I can remember times when

Moments before we’d been upset at this battle,

But somehow ended up holding hands, giggling with joy,

Singing about food,

And just generally excited to be friends again,

And ecstatic about the prospects of a good meal,

And pleased with ourselves to have made the fucking decision. 

How to Defeat a Punching Bag: Paige Style

Two things you should know about me:

1. I think I'm pretty adorable.

2. I am in no way aggressive, so even punching bags are intimidating.

My family is pretty short, and at 5'2 I'm fairly tall for my siblings. I enjoy my short size. I liked relating to fairies in cartoon movies as a kid, I liked that it was a benefit as a dancer, and I like that it just adds to my adorableness. I also have relatively big blue eyes, which I also appreciate. They add to my curious and sweet demeanor. I like my sometimes high and childlike voice when I'm trying to be nice to customers, it really puts off a vibe that I am a shy bookworm (spoiler alert: That's exactly what I am). In other words, I have several natural attributes that, in my opinion, make me adorable. And I use these to my advantage to continue to portray myself as such. 

Many TV shows and movies like to show the short girl also being aggressive and somewhat terrifying. Shakespeare probably had the original tiny-girl-who-will-also-take-you-down-and-is-tired-of-being-viewed-as-small-and-puny in the play A Midsummer Night's Dream. As Helena describes her friend/enemy Hermia, "And though she be but little, she is fierce."

I actually really enjoy this quote. I like to sometimes imagine that I am this fierce and ready to gouge someone's eyes out, if need be. But, this is not me. I am about as harmful as a butterfly. So, because of this, punching bags are my least favorite exercise. When Coach Susie (shoutout) demonstrates the punching bag and tells us to just "go at" the punching bag I feel extra tiny. Just, like... I don't get how people literally make those things actually swing, or have the confidence to actually kick one with all of their might. I don't know if it's because I'm lazy or honestly non-aggressive, but I do not approach a punching bag and think "I'm gonna take you out!" Usually I'm thinking, "Please let the next thirty seconds go by quickly." 

But, I do have a trick to make myself punch harder and maybe get the bag to swing as if a gentle summer breeze has struck it. And that's to think of all the times strangers have referred to me as "little" or any childlike term.

I shouldn't be angry at this, as I said before I like being small and adorable, and I like the vibe it gives off because in ways it's exactly who I am. Also most people think I'm younger than I am. It's not uncommon for people to assume I'm under 21, or still in high school, hell my doppelganger is a Russian woman six years younger than me. But still, I hate when strangers (always men) use certain terms.

I have been called cutsie names in my life. "Paigey" and "Pigeon" and others. But, that's because they come from family members who gave me the nickname when I was little, as in young and still growing. But, recently, and acquaintance called me, "Little Paige" when I said hello to them.

I know he meant nothing of it, and it may have been a slip, but it caught me off guard. Again, yes I do shop in the "petite" section because my arms and legs are basically stubs, but in title I am not "little." I am just Paige. That name will do just fine. No need to add "small" or "tiny" or "little" or anything of the like. Just Paige (JustPaigenThru, find me on Instagram). 

Thinking of being called this makes me feel more motivated to punch the punching bag. It's one of the things I can call forward and still feel real angry about that it can translate to my wimpy fists. But, this instance was not the only time I've been called something similar to this.

The very first time this came to light I was attending a concert with my boyfriend, Duffy. Before we went into the amphitheater we had security check our bags and be waved over by a metal detector. Everything was fine and dandy, I was smiling as I approached the man with the wand. Then--THEN-- this man said to me, "Alright if you'll turn around, kiddo." I forced my smile for the duration it took me to turn around and then dropped it as soon as I was facing Duffy again. I mouthed to him, "Kiddo?!?" Before returning to a pleasant look to walk past the security guard. I get that this man was older and it's not uncommon for older people to call youths "kiddo." And a lot of the people attending the concert could be called "kiddo" by this man, who was probably already annoyed by us even though we were early to arrive. But come on! I know he didn't call the guy in front of me "kiddo" and he didn't call Duffy "kiddo." And I know I look like a "kiddo" but it just really pushed my buttons. 

I punch the bag harder when I think of being called "kiddo." As if I was an innocent and helpless child and not a full grown adult.

That very same night I decided I wanted to go get a second, and bigger, daiquiri because I am an adult and needed more alcohol to fight off my natural introvert tendencies that usually ruin concerts for me. If you've ever been to any type of performance you know how horrible it is to have to leave in the middle of the performance. Unless you're blessed with an aisle seat you have to scoot past people and apologize a million times for being in the way and disrupting the event. I did just this, trying my best to assert myself and shout over the music, "EXCUSE ME! PARDON ME! SO SORRY!" Well, it was tricky because their were drinks on the floor and not a lot of space between the standing people and the chairs in front of us. I may have stepped on someone's foot, I am still sorry. Anyways, as I was going through this process one of the men I walked past, who was probably drunk said, "You got this, little girl."

I punch the bag really hard when I think of this. 

I didn't turn around and shout at him because I just wanted the experience of squeezing myself between these people and chairs to be over, but I did not appreciate that comment one bit. Um, excuse the fuck out of you sir. Yes, I am short, but no. No, you may not call me, "little" or "girl." I am so tired of women being referred to as girls, not matter how old or mature they are. The default is always "girl." And I especially don't like being belittled by being called "little." 

I composed a list of other appropriate things to say: 

1. Just "You got this," no "little" or "girl" necessary. 
2. A simply, "Don't worry!" or "Good luck!" 
3. Maybe a comment to help my quiet person complex: "No, I'm sorry for not hearing your tiny, shy bird voice say 'excuse me.'" 
4. Or, if you really need to use a descriptive phrase, "You go, strong, independent womyn!" (You have to say womyn.)

Possibly Drunk Man, if we ever meet again and you call me "Little girl" I will probably go into Hermia mode. I may be little, but I will go fierce on your eyeballs. (It's not that big of a deal, but seriously dude, stop). 

Side note: My neighbor once had a dog named "Little Girl." I am not that dog. I am Paige (HEAR ME ROAR!!)

Anyways, back on topic. 

What I'm getting at is please stop calling me, and other women, these demeaning terms. If you don't know us, and don't know if it's cool or not to belittle us, then don't. If you want to call people "kiddo" please call all of us kiddo, despite gender or height. If you see a short person, clearly anxious about the experience of being in close contact with strangers, bite your tongue when you want to describe her as a "little girl." And be one of my close friends, or a family member if you want to label me as "Little Paige." 

I may not take the punching bag out very well, but these words make me want to go full-psycho on the bag. I want to prove, if just to myself and maybe the people around me, that I am not a child. I am not helpless, and I don't need to be taken care of. I like being the way I am physically, but just because you may describe me as, "A short person with some youthful features" don't call me any term that alludes to a child. And don't do it to anyone else. I know this is an issue women face, especially in the media, but I wish it would just disappear. I wish I was punching the bag because I was thinking of Hermia and practicing for the day I'm in the woods with my friends and fairies are just messing with our general love vibes and I need to fight a woman to get my man. Or because I want big biceps. 

Side note: One time I saw this older lady wearing a sleevless shirt and her arms were perfectly sculpted and huge. I'm not sure if she did crossfit, or boxing, or maybe did hard labor, but I took one look at her arms and thought, "I wouldn't be angry if this woman punched me right now. I'd be 100% impressed and would feel very empowered." 

Again, back on topic. I am a short woman with big eyes and a shy demeanor. Don't use that as an excuse to call me something you would call a 1st grader. There are plenty of other terms you can use: Ma'am, young lady, Luna Lovegood, Paige, miss, adult womyn... whatever you choose. As long as it's nice. 

Final note/side note: The only reason a stranger can call me "honey" is this nice lady who used to come into work. She had the sweetest voice, and was so pleasant to talk to and I think he kid was in a magazine because he's a genius. Anyways, whenever she called me, "honey" I would just melt. I'm pretty sure I'd let her get away with theft or murder if she just turned to me and said, "Oh, hi honey." I'd just bashfully tuck my chin into my shoulder and say, "Oh! Hush. You're too sweet!"  

 

Quiet Person Complex

Hello again, it's me, Paige. Today, I have another somewhat stupid, somewhat clever, personally I think it's funny, phenomenon to share with you. You've all heard of things like the Napoleon complex, which involves short people or small dogs being fierce, which is sometimes comical due to their size. Well, I experience Quiet Person Complex. It's not quite the same, but it is a very real thing that I endure every day.

I noticed this when around my boyfriend, Duffy, whom I love so dearly. He talks very loudly, but doesn't have the best hearing. I have a tendency to talk quietly, and this leads to our greatest weakness as a couple: communication. We joke about this a lot, because many of our conversations are similar to the below model.

Me: I should cut my hair.

Him: What?

Me, speaking louder: I should cut my hair.

Him: What?

Me, now annoyed that he doesn't have super powers, speaking louder and now slower: I. Should. Cut. My. Hair.

Him, after a moment's pause: Still didn't hear what you said.

Then, if it's unimportant, I will refuse to repeat it and wave him away. 

This doesn't happen every time, but it happens often enough that I've realized how upset I get when he doesn't hear me. I've been used to this most of my life. My parents would always tell me and my sister to "speak up" and others accused us of constantly mumbling. We thought we were speaking fine.

I'm also familiar with walking up to a customer at work and asking, "You finding everything alright?" and them just continuing to look at some product. Sometimes I ask again, other times I just walk away uncomfortably and mouth, "Oookkaaayy" like they had just been the rudest human being on the planet. I know this can't always be true, some people just genuinely don't hear me. Yet, I am still offended.

This, is Quiet Person Complex. It's speaking softly, and trying to raise your voice, but usually not doing so effectively, and becoming angry when whoever you're talking to doesn't have super sonic hearing.

I experience this a lot at work. I can recall getting very peeved at a woman over the phone because she said, "You sound like you're all the way in China!" Also, when we first got headsets for employees on the floor I hated when people corrected me on my usage. Asking me to speak louder, or hold the button longer. I mean, I took the advice and now people can hear me, but the first few times I got that feedback I was salty.

Basically, everybody needs to get hearing aids or learn how to read lips because I have very important, interesting, and funny things to say, so listen up! If you don't hear me, I will be pissed because I've got Quiet Person Complex.



Note: I love everyone in my life right now, and I will sometimes not be pissed at you because I understand I'm very bad at raising my voice efficiently.  Mostly it's just Duffy. He is terrible at hearing and asks me to repeat things all the time, and we need to work on our communication skills. K, love you, bye!