Your Smile On Fire

...from the song Xavia

July 2008 - Posts

  • got pizza?

    Let’s talk about weight. Because that’s the in thing to do now, right?

    I’m rather skinny.

    Oooh, I know. I’m not supposed to say that, am I? I’m supposed to complain about my pudgy belly or flabby arms or SOMETHING, ANYTHING, even if people routinely comment on OHMYGOSH YOUR WRISTS ARE TINY!

    But why? It’s a fact: I. Am. Skinny. When I went to the doctor last week and stepped on the scale I was a little surprised at how low the number was, and I’m used to being skinny.

    But here’s the odd thing about it:

    When I was younger, like up until the ninth grade or so, my weight was somehow TEH PLAGUE. There’s pictures of me and my friends in mid school and I look like bones and skin. So skinny it shocks me; no wonder people commented on it. Junior high came and I was still that way…

    and my school did an assembly thing about eating disorders. Because I guess seventh grade is THAT AGE for girls? Anyway, after that girls would come up to me. Completely well-meaning girls of course, and they would mention that maybe I should Eat. That maybe Being Anorexic Is Bad. That I was Already Very Skinny.

    Of course I knew all that. I wasn’t anorexic. I was just skinny. And their comments didn’t hurt me exactly, they just made me aware. Aware that apparently maybe probably people might think I am anorexic if I don’t Watch It.

    And then something happened. Either suddenly or slowly I can’t say, but one day it seems instead of being Too Skinny, every girl around me was worrying about gaining weight. Skinny girls! Counting carbs and staying away from pizza!

    Then it felt weird to me, that I didn’t care. I remember distinctly one night, going over to a sort-of-friend’s house to watch a movie with a huge group of people she’d invited. We had salad and pizza and all the guys ate pizza and all the girls ate salad, each of them saying something about how they were trying to not get fat or about eating healthy or about something-or-the-other.

    So I felt a little odd being the only girl eating pizza. I thought to myself, Maybe I should have salad instead. Pizza is not the healthiest thing in the world.

    But guess what? I’m not the hugest FAN OF SALADS. And I was HUNGRY. So I had the pizza.

    And now things are topsy-turvy from how they are in junior high and instead of being aware of myself when I don’t eat, I’m aware when I do. Not because I’m afraid of becoming fat, not because I’m trying to Watch My Weight, but just because everyone else seems to be. Even my sister has lately begun making comments about her “fat” tummy. And I can’t tell if she’s serious or not, but either way it gives me the willies. Is this how girls are supposed to be? So obsessed with their weight, whatever it may be, always thinking they could stand to eat a few pounds or that they should take the salad instead of the pizza even though they really are hungry?

    Am I some sort of freak of nature that I JUST DON’T CARE? That I eat when I’m hungry (and if I feel like eating ice cream I do) and I don’t eat when I’m not? Is it truly crazy that I choose the pizza over salad or that, occasionally, I’m not quite sure what my weight is because I don’t keep up with it? Am I a freak of nature that I have no body issues whatsoever related to my weight?

    What’s upside-down: is it me or society?

    Oh, also, if anyone is going to comment on it: I’m NOT talking about the obviously overweight who have reasons to be concerned about their weight. I’m talking about everyone else.

    Also, I’m officially starved.

  • the voice

    Dear friendlies,


    I’m not feeling so funny. I’d like to, but I’m not.

    However. I will do my best. Because you guys deserve the best.

    Aww, how sweet.

    Moving on.

    So I was in the car with my friend. I’d spent the day out with her and her mom and her grandparents. Because I’m lovely like that.

    So there.

    And anyway, we were in the car driving back and suddenly she dropped an A-bomb on me. (I only said A-bomb so I could be all Jan-from-The-Office and go, “Really, Jordyn? Really? She dropped an atomic bomb on you?) And the bomb was…


    And apparently mine can too?

    It’s kinda creepy. It’s this monotone voice AND IT KNOWS WHAT LOL STANDS FOR. And the voice pronounces things oddly. Like she pronounces “don’t” as Don-Tee. But only sometimes.

    It’s kinda cool, honestly. But also creeps me out. BECAUSE MY SHINY ORANGE PHONE KNOWS EVERYTHING MY FRIENDS AND I TELL EACH OTHER. Is that scary?

    Like the voice knows that we use ‘ha ha’ and ‘lol’ waaayyyy too often. And also she says everything very robotic and monotone except for the word sad. The voice seems to like to drag that one out a bit, like this little computerized lady voice is really putting some EMOTION into that one. Maybe she’s thinking of her dead grandparents or her ex or the time she totally ran over that puppy in the Wal-Mart parking lot.

    I don’t know. Computerized Text Reading Lady just has some hidden depths I guess.

  • the story of ash

    Today was one of those good days that is just good. And I have too much in my head to write it all down, too many possibilities for posts. So instead of boring you with the details of my day (meeting, lunch, work), I’ve decided I’m just going to start my series of posts about my closest friends.


    And I’ll start with the post about Ash, because, if for no other reason, she’s the one I’ve known the longest.


    Ash was a doctor’s daughter. It just happened that back in Arizona a lot of my friends had parents who were doctors. At one point there was pretty much a group of us, a bunch of doctors’ kids, and me, the pilot’s daughter. Our parents all knew each other, which I was always confunkled by, asking my dad how in the world he knew all the doctors.


    But anyway.


    Me and Ash had gone to school together forever. In first grade I didn’t even really know her name and we weren’t friends but it was her group (the very same group, more or less, that I became a part of during sixth grade), and her in particular, that always asked me to play Hot Lava Monster with them. Now, I used to assume that Hot Lava Monster was just one of those playground games that ALL KIDS know, but now I’m not so sure. Maybe it was just a local game. Whatever, it’s a complicated game of tag. And she was always asking me to play with them and I was always saying no, shaking my head, being embarrassed of how tired I got when I ran. How I couldn’t run.


    Second grade went by. Third, fourth, fifth grades went by. And then we were in sixth grade, the both of us plus part of her “group” in Mr. A’s class. I sat at the same cluster of desks as them and I remember choosing them when I didn’t know anyone in the class, because they looked like nice, unassuming, friendly girls.


    What happened next was this: I became part of the group. The four of us ate lunch together, joked together, did the yearbook page together. Sometimes their other friends would join us. And slowly it happened. I went from being that girl that they included because she sat next to them, to just one of the gang. This time period is also surrounded by other things that happened, things like my heart surgery and my dad going to work for one of Ash’s other friends that I didn’t know. I don’t know what those two things had to do with the first thing, but somehow they all seemed intertwined together.


    Seventh grade…


    eighth grade…


    ninth grade…


    and all this time me and Ash are becoming better friends. We never hang out outside of school; we never call on the phone and we rarely email, but we are undisputedly the quietest of the group. Our sense of humor seems slightly different from theirs and we often share quiet jokes that the rest of them don’t get. We are in few of the same classes but we often meet between classes, and always at lunch. She is sweet and kind and always seems to notice me more than our other friends do. When we stand in a circle, she’s the one making sure I’m not on the outside, she’s the one cluing me in on the conversation when I’m out of the loop. I can tell by looking at her what sort of mood she’s in and on days when she seems sad and less jokey than the others, than she normally is, I just smile at her and try to be there for her the way a friend is. I ask how she’s doing, ask if anything’s wrong, and when she says no and I don’t entirely believe her, I just let it go. Because I think people should be allowed to be sad if they feel sad. There are times when I am like this too, days before the move (or at least before I was allowed to tell anyone about it) when I don’t feel like talking to anyone, ever, when I just want to be alone. On those days she is the only one I talk to and she never pushes, is always there, and always her quiet smile seeming to assure me that I’ve got a friend.


    Don’t mistake me: we weren’t best friends, we weren’t even outside-of-school friends. We didn’t talk about everything, we didn’t talk a lot at all. But she was always there and there was never any doubt that she cared.


    After the move I lose touch. I lose touch with other friends. Michael, Lee, Hannah, Taylor H., Kristen, Kelly, Lacey, even Kelsey whose class I was in all through elementary school I barely talk to. There are months were me and Ash don’t talk too, but then things change. I ask how people are doing and she tells me. We share the stories that happen in our lives. I tell her how lonely I am, how I have no friends, and she doesn’t blame me as others have, or say that it’s because I’m too quiet; she knows I’m quiet because she’s the same. We talk about boys and I tell her about the guy I like. Later I tell her when it falls through and she is there. She tells me about the guy she likes, a guy I knew, and I am happy for her. We talk about religion and spirituality with a mutual respect although our beliefs are quite different. I ask questions about her beliefs and she asks about mine and we never argue points.


    One day I go out alone, shopping (for books, obviously) and then to eat. It’s fun, but I get home a little bit melancholy, wishing I didn’t spend so many days alone. But I’d left my computer on while I was out and when I get home there’s a message from Ash.


    hey i know you’re ‘away’ but i just wanted to say hi! i haven’t talked to you in a while hope you’re doing well!


    And after all this time the big thing about Ash is still that she’s always on my same team.


Oct. 15 [going to work soon] [two school essays due; majorly nervous about both] [remember when i wrote that short story where the girl said "majorly" every other WORD practically? ha]