Guys Don't Make Passes at Girls Who Wear Glasses

Stories. Stories. Stories. Mostly about awkward girl moments. A few about life moments. Some about your moments. Stories. Stories. Stories.

[guysdontmakepasses]

Grumblies

Do other people have these? The stomach grumblies?

I’ve had them for my whole life. 

I think they’re genetic. I know my father had the grumblies, guaranteed they came from him. He would have the grumblies after dinner while we were sitting watching a movie. And they would be so charming. 

I find I only have the grumblies when I am forced to be in the most awkward quiet situations of my life, like when I’m at the theater, or an interview, or in the bedroom. 

I know they are caused by food, but truly, they feel like a karmic thing. Your stomach will grumble when you least need it too, because that is when the grumblies is the happiest. 

You know those little green mucusy creatures in that commercial for mucinex - I imagine my grumblies similarly - they are green and blue and purple round blobs all smiling and raising their skinny arms and shrugging their non existent shoulders in the  “who me” position. 

YES YOU - YOU GRUMBLY - YOU ARE DOING THIS TO ME - AND I AM TRYING TO PRETEND I AM A CUTE, RESPONSIBLE PERSON, WHO HAS CONTROL AND DECORUM. 

[guysdontmakepasses]

Da Bachelor?

I’ve avoided watching The Bachelor for as long as it’s been around ( I googled when the first season was- it was in 2002!!!). 

And I feel good about that because this show may have changed why women of my age and generation feel stressed about finding their partner. 

This show came out when I was **cough** ahem 18 years old or whatever... It came out as I was trying to figure out who I was as a woman. And this show was about to change how we looked at dating forever. It is a show dedicated to throngs of women throwing themselves at one man in hopes of shining through the masses. 

Nothing could get me ready for dating in New York more. 

That being said. I never really watched it. Every time I would turn it on just to see, I would get sad. I would get so sad watching these women fight over this guy who they barely knew. Going through weird obstacle courses and hypersexualized dates. 

And yes - I know that the Bachelorette is also a thing - but you know - it’s like not the same. 

Anyways. People love watching this show. People love finding love, feeling like they were a part of the matchmaking process. People love hating on the villains and routing for the underdog. 

And people love dranking wine, and screaming at the screen. 

My boyfriend left the room when I turned this show on...

So - gonna need to find someone else to watch this show with me - who’s in?

[guysdontmakepasses]

When You Got Those Sweet Days Off - You Gotta Get To Work

All weekend long I told myself that I would really get down to business on Monday. Monday I had a “Day Off!” (cue dance music- shaking my booty, all by myself, while eating popcorn and drinking seltzer - letting my hair down, way down) 

Over the weekend I could just hang - get my act together. But Monday, Monday was when I was going to get shit done. I was going to start making those real changes. Sit down, turn off the TV and focus on...things. 

But, the thing is, days off, days off are like sinkholes. 

The day starts off with high hopes. I convince myself that just a little tv won’t hurt me, but to make it okay, I do some chill exercises like squats and push ups. And then the spiral starts. Just one more episode, while I cook breakfast and eat. 

Then I shower - because I’m not an animal. But then I quickly have to go watch another episode. Because I wasted time in the shower. Precious, precious day off TV time. 

While showering - I came up with the idea - that I would write a blog entry about what it’s like to have a day off - because it’s like then I’m doing something. Also felt like it was a great idea because I could easily do this while also watching another episode of...TV.

To a great year filled with incredible focus and dedication to my art, craft, my friends and family. And to living each day to its fullest. And by fullest I mean a TV fueled day infused with bouts of instagram, moments of extreme and incredible writing, loads of tea, a few sad attempts at crunches, and incredible procrastination.

[guysdontmakepasses]

Lists

I hear lists are super cool right now. Making lists, being on lists, talking about lists, reading lists, list apps. 

I’m all about them. Here are a few lists of lists that I have made or been thinking about recently. 

1. Lists of jobs I think would be really dreamy, and am currently not doing, but am thinking about while typing this list at my cubicle, at my current job #lifegoalslist

2. Things that would be delish for lunch #delishlisht

3. Lunch spots in my neighborhood that don’t suck #nomnomnowlist

4. Lunch spots in my neighborhood that are basic af, but I still go to, because there’s something comforting about a fork,spoon,knife, salt and pepps wrapped in plastic kinda deal in a brown bag. #youknowwhoyouarelist 

5. Vacations I want to be taking #bestlist

6. Ways to save money for said vacations #savingsaccountlist

7. Ways to make some extra cash on the side that is “fulfilling” but also makes you feel very “rich” #chachinglist

8. The best TV shows that came out this summer, that you need to watch, but really you’re just going to watch reruns of Gilmore Girls #netflixandchilllist

9. Nail design styles you need to try a.k.a ways to stop biting your nails like you did when you were 11. #naillist

AND FINALLY

10.  My friends, this was a list I made often growing up...and I still find reassuring and disheartening. #friendlist

Me in front of a flower wall. #listofplacesiwanttoberightnow

[guysdontmakepasses]

Barf

About every 3 months I dedicate this blog to a new idea. And then I write like 2 blogs about this idea. And then never write on that topic again.

Not cool Mim. Not Cool. Or with my new perspective on life - TOTALLY COOL. So. 

Gonna be writing here more. Because it’s a chill thing to do. Send to your friends if they’re interested in musings, maybe some short stories, maybe pics of glasses, or pottery. Or because you love me, and want to support me writing more. 

[guysdontmakepasses]

What a Wednesday

Today I woke up in a panic. A dumb list of things that I needed to do at the office running through my mind. Just the dumbest list. Things that will get done, but in the spectrum of things, don’t really matter. 

I looked at Instagram to try and calm myself. Which, to be honest, usually does the opposite, only heightens any anxiety I have about tasks and accomplishments. 

And, I won’t lie, it did a little. 

But today was a little different. I was too busy watching Mr.Robot and trying to unwind last night instead of checking in on “things.’ But I found one moment. At like 6:22am. One eensy teensy moment where I could take a second, stop thinking about myself, and my own stuffs,  and think about what a momentous thing happened yesterday. 

I try to avoid talking politics.

But last night wasn’t just about politics.

It was about a moment when things for women changed forever. 

Every Passover, my mom tells this story about how there was a Jewish Female Scholar who was advocating that women have the right to be a part of the Jewish rituals and that includes being on the Bimah, or stage, as a Rabbi or Cantor or leader of the Congregation. The story continues saying that a dude stood up and yelled “A woman belongs on the Bimah like an orange belongs on the Seder Plate.” (Seder plates, aka the things laid out at a Passover Seder, are definitely not meant to have citrus on them) So every year at Passover we put an Orange, capital O, on the Seder Plate. There are plenty of women Rabbi’s now, but it’s more to remind us of a time and place where the idea of it was ridiculous. 

So today. I’m trying to dwell less on where and what I should be and could be doing and more on what’s happening today, here and now. And garbage like that. 

How about them...Oranges...

[guysdontmakepasses]

Boss Beetch

This is one of my oldest and dearest. Sporting glasses like a real Boss Beetch. This glasses look to me is:

- Clark Kent hanging after hours.

- I will drink until I can’t see. 

- Matched my red eyes to my red dress. All day players. 

- Don’t stare at my necklace or my yaya’s stare at my big black....glasses. 

- Let’s make out and fog up these frames. 

- I’m near sighted, so Imma need you to come a little closer. 

Send me your glasses pics. Let me tell you what you’re about. 

[guysdontmakepasses]

Slow Dancin’ At a Bat Mitzvah and other stories

Dorothy Parker said it first, as she has on many occasions.

"Men seldom make passes. At girls who wear glasses."

For this exact reason I was desperate to get contacts when I was a kid. I started wearing glasses when I was 7 or 8. I had bifocals before I had boobs.

Like many Jewish young girls, parents use your Bat Mitzvah as a turning point for responsibilities. Because at that time you are considered an adult, at the ripe age of 12 or 13.

Mind you I had gotten my period when I was ten and a half years old, so technically I had already been a woman and capable of making bebe's for over a year or so.

But it wasn't until after my Bat Mitzvah that I was allowed to have contacts. And I'll tell you something that I remember very clearly from my Bat Mitzvah. Only one boy, ( and I mean boy, because I also happened to be the oldest person in my grade, and therefore the only person having reached adulthood) asked me to dance.

One.

And it was a fucking great dance.

But I hold true to this sentiment: That if I had been wearing contacts on that day, at that party, at the Jewish Community Center, where I gave out boxers that said "I danced my pants off at Miriam's Bat Mitzvah", maybe I would have gotten asked to dance at least twice, but I doubt it.

Send me pics of you and your frames, tell me the story, or let me make it up.

Mim

[guysdontmakepasses]

shave yer legs

I have been shaving my legs for a pretty long time now. Long enough that in theory I could be considered an expert at it. 

I am long past being upset about when I miss my knees. I say this mostly because I am blessed with some blonde hairs on my knees and you really only see those little hairs when the light hits them, still embarrassing but I’ve come to terms with it. 

What I haven’t come to terms with is when I completely miss a whole shaving row on the back of my calf. So many times in a row, in fact, that we are not talking stubbles, we’re talking fully formed hairs. If thery were trees they would no longer be saplings, they would have nice long roots in soil. 

To further my hair woes, as I rode the subway last night,  with my main squeeze, he alerted me to the fact that my arm pit bared for the world to see as I grasped a high pole to stead myself, had a few stray hairs. Hairs, that I was throwing in the face of the THREE seated passengers in front of me. Hairs that were similarly forgotten by my razor and a hidden from my  poor eyesight, so they had grown long and strong. 

When do you become a person who can grab every stray hair?

When God WHEN!?

[guysdontmakepasses]

Working Out With Spectacles

It’s been a few odd years since I’ve posted on this site. I also think I deleted some really epic posts that were about dating for fear that people would stumble upon them and think I was a dumb silly girl. 

But the thing about wearing glasses is that you are inherently smarter than anyone and everyone else. Because you are wearing glasses. 

Except when you’re working out. And this is particularly true when you are working out in one of those types of classes where it is just women, wearing really cool looking Lululemon pants that have those slits on the calf (so sexy), and who seem to know all the moves, and never need to pause because their leg hurts so bad or they think they will fart, or whatever. 

In these situations wearing glasses isn’t smart. Mostly because you (meaning me) sweat so bad that you get this pool of sweat between your frames and your eyes, that starts to build and create this “slip and slide”, so your glasses are in a constant state of motion. And this distracts you from the already challenging task of tucking your butt in, while squeezing your thighs, and there’s a tube around your leg, and your holding a ball, and crying just a little bit, but it looks like sweat hopefully. And then you look around, or you try to, but your glasses are barely on your face anymore, and everyone else looks like a stoic beautiful goddess and you look like a version of Napoleon Dynamite. 

That’s my feet under a girl’s butt as I try to touch her back after an hour of us working out so things are feeling pretty good. Wish you could zoom in on that determined and smooshed face. 

[guysdontmakepasses]

Memorial Day Shoe Choice...Contrasting with my Translucent and Reflective Calf