I just moved into my new apartment, but things haven’t always been easy. I’m sharing the 5 year journey that took me from sleeping on floors to an apartment better than I could ever imagine.
Fun fact about me, Brunch is my favorite meal!
I love sleeping in but still getting breakfast food, I love chatting with friends into the late afternoon and I really love it when a brunch meal is outside or has extra sunny views.
The only drawback with brunch is that when you’re trying to live a healthy lifestyle, sometimes mimosas, french toast and bacon aren’t the best choices.
On the other hand, staying home to eat oatmeal every weekend isn’t always super appealing either.
I asked you all on my instagram if you were interested in healthy brunch options in NYC and lots of you said YES! So, as I find great reastaurants, I’ll send them your way. If you don’t live in NYC, use these meals as inspiration to cook your own yummy healthy brunches at home.
Today’s Healthy brunch suggestions is Bluestone Lane in New York City (there’s also a location in Philadelphia!).
They have a few locations in Manhattan, I walked over to the one in the west village.
55 Greenwich street
Almond Milk Latte + Prada Sunnies
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The first thing I ordered was an Almond Milk Latte, oh my goodness… it was as yummy as it was adorable!
The brunch menu was pretty exciting to me, lots of options and variety. The waiter (with his adorable Australian accent) said some of the locations in NYC have an even more extensive menu than the Greenwich street location, but for me a few really great choices are good enough. We decided to share avocado smash and quinoa porridge. It was an awesome mix of savory/sweet.
West Village Stroll
Want to get fit with me? Check out How to Get Fit with Bad Knees
Ever since the thermometer rose above 55 degrees I have been annoyed. I like warm weather, I like wearing little dresses and hanging out in the park. What’s annoying me is that when the weather gets warm, all of the couples in New York City decide to come out of hiding.
When the summer comes, suddenly the city is flooded with pairs of people holding hands on the street, cuddling in the subway and dry humping in the park (no, seriously… I’ve seen it and its not cute). I had to wonder where these couples were during the coldest parts of the year. I mean, when I slip on a cute outfit and then cover it up with three layers of clothing just so I can trudge through the snow to meet my friends for a drink, the train is full of small clusters of single people doing the same thing.
Then I realized that couples don’t go out in the winter because they don’t have to! They stay home. Alone. Together.
Maybe that’s why, when they make their warm weather debut, they are beyond excited to
rub it in my face show their coupledom to the world. I guess anyone who’s been inside their apartment since November would be a little overzealous to take their love to the streets and in theory I understand that, but as a single girl in New York City, it makes me sick!
The other day I rode the 2 train from 14th to 72nd street sitting across from a couple who was happy just to play with each others fingers and a fit of rage (and maybe jealousy) took over me. I found their simple affection nauseating and unnecessary even though I love love! I’m happy when my friends find someone and when I see people making each other happy. But these first few weeks of warm weather have been brutal for a girl who isn’t in a relationship.
I had to ask myself if it was the couples that were annoying me or the fact that I’m not in a relationship that’s driving me nuts. I have to be honest, I think its the latter. If given the chance, I would probably be one half of an obnoxious summer couple in a heart beat (minus the dry-humping, ’cause that’s just weird). After all, I shave my legs every other day during the summer and it would be nice to know that at some point someone was going to touch them.
Over the weekend I was laying out in the sand with my girlfriends and we were talking about men and dating in general when one of my friends casually mentioned that she didn’t have any dating horror stories. I’ve been back for a few days now, but can’t stop thinking about what she said because lately I feel like I have nothing but dating horror stories.
Remember the guy who told me that he lived in a shelter? Well, upon further questioning I found out that not only was he homeless, he’d been a working homeless person for over three years. And if that wasn’t enough; he explained that because of his lack of stability, very few women want to deal with him (duh!) and so he sometimes turns to Transgendered men/women when he needs *ahem* …affection.
I’ll give you a minute to let all of that sink in.
When I found all of this out I immediately called my best friend, Adam. “Oh my gosh, CeCe!” he laughed, “Why does this stuff always happen to you?” I wanted to laugh too, but I couldn’t. I started to wonder why this guy (knowing all of his issues and baggage) saw me on the crosstown bus and thought I would be the type of girl who would date him. Could it be that he looked at me, with my yellow dress and my hair curled for the Easter holiday and thought to himself …that looks like a girl who wouldn’t mind dating a Homeless Tranny Chaser!
I mean, he didn’t even bother to lie to me, he laid all of this garbage out within 72 hours of getting my phone number and when I told him I truly wasn’t interested in talking to him anymore, he had the nerve to say “you know, with the right woman by my side I could really turn my life around…”
I’ve heard guys talk about women being “out of their league” for a variety of reasons like looks, profession or family background so I know they think about these things. I am a pretty open person. I’ve dated white collar and blue collar guys. I’ve dated men with and without degrees. I’ve dated men who had nice things and men who were struggling. I don’t walk around thinking I’m too good for anyone, but this is a case where I feel like he should have known that I was out of his league because until he addresses his homelessness and his attraction to women with a “little something extra” every girl in New York City is out of his league.
A man (protected by the veil of anonymity) left this comment on one of my posts the other day: as a tall man who takes care of his appearance (and teeth!) I just can’t take seriously a women who is overweight…I would never ever date a women who is overweight… poor men date overweight women, attractive men with means chose the hot ones. Is it my weight? Did he see me and think that because I’m a big girl I would be desperate enough to accept his lifestyle?
I have a couple of women I like to call my “Blogging Big Sisters” and I reached out to two of them for their take. They’re both beautiful New York City women and weight isn’t something they struggle with, so I thought maybe they’d give me their answers to my question: Are The Men I Attract a Reflection of… Me? Here’s what they said (you can read more on their blogs)
HowVeryLucky says: This is a topic I have been muddling over from the moment I received my very first e-mail communication upon re-entry to the online dating world. My profile hadn’t been up for twenty minutes before Summerskirts had written me. He was a married cross-dresser in search of a “special friend”. At first I take this all in stride. But over time, it starts to feel defeating. It becomes hard to keep your head above water. To remember all the wonderful things about yourself. You recite your mantra – if you have one (which I don’t, but OK) – I’m smart, pretty, gainfully employed, funny and, in a nutshell, a great catch. So why are the only guys playing the outfield (or even the infield for that matter) men that I would never consider dating? In the mirror of Internet dating, am I the reflection staring back at Mr. Too Old For Me Suburban Mom-Jeans? Suddenly I start to feel like my blue book value just went down by the thousands. I feel sad and disappointed and undesirable. And then I realize something else. Maybe it’s not a mirror. Maybe instead it’s a portrait or a work of art. Rather than allowing it to make me feel badly, I should be flattered that these men find me attractive and interesting enough to write, even though they’re not at all who I want. (read more here)
KB_IN_NYC says: Are the men I attract a reflection of….me? In a word, yes. But also….no. Let me explain. I believe wholeheartedly in the notion that what we put out is what we get back, and this is no different when it comes to attracting people. I seem to do pretty well (if I do say so myself) when it comes to friends, business relationships etc. The sticking point, as always, is dating and men. Two nights ago I went on a date. I wasn’t overly excited about it but we ended up having a really good time; he got a bottle of great wine, we ordered cheese, drank champagne. It really was all I could’ve asked for but still, I’m like Uhm. Not sure. I also discovered he has a hairy back (which is so a story for another time). Thing is I hate hairy backs, like completely hate them. And then I start to think, holy crap is this man with a hairy back a reflection of me? I’m kidding about the hairy back (kind of), but I think you get my point. We have a lot of stories that we tell ourselves, and it’s hard not to get despondent when we are not attracting the people that we would like, or feel we deserve. But, if I step back – if I stop with the voices and the self doubt – I know that I am not the sum total of the men who want to date me (or at least I hope to hell I’m not). Sure, maybe I’m attracting experiences that I don’t want but that’s more about me than them, isn’t it? (read more here)
Both of my Blogging Big Sisters bring up some good points and although I’m obviously still struggling with this, its nice to know that these things aren’t just happening to CeCe, The Big Girl.
To be honest, I think my ego is bruised. For me when the dating “mess” hits the fan, it always comes back to my weight. I start to tell myself that these things wouldn’t happen if I were thin. But maybe I should consider that maybe these “bottom feeder” types have nothing to lose so they’re just more forward and outrageous and therefore I encounter them more… but I don’t know.
Meeting Adrian last Saturday was like a scene from a corny, yet enjoyable movie.
I was taking the bus across 14th street after a trip to Trader Joes. I didn’t pay much attention to the guy who got on at Union Square and sat in front of me until a few minutes later when he turned around, offered me a stick of gum and introduced himself. Adrian was easy to talk to and when we stood up to get off of the bus at 7th avenue, I was happy to see that he was taller than me. He carried my shopping bags into the train station and by the time we parted I had given him my phone number and we had tentative plans to grab drinks.
Sunday evening I was curled up on the couch recovering from Easter brunch when Adrian called me to “say hello”. The conversation was moving along nicely, he was obviously very smart and although I could hear his room mates in the background watching the game, he kept me engaged in our conversation and there were very few awkward pauses. Somehow our conversation shifted to different neighborhoods in Manhattan and Adrian mentioned where he lived.
That’s when we had our first awkward pause.
“…Actually,” he said. “I’m living in a shelter right now, so that I can save money.”
I didn’t know what to say! So… when I assumed the young, educated, employed man I was on the phone with was sitting watching the game with his “room mates” he was actually sitting with fellow shelter dwellers?!
I couldn’t help but feel like this was some sort of challenge because I had just finished having a Twitter conversation with “@MoxieInTheCity” and “@LoveInTheDumps” about dating and living situations. We were tweeting about Moxie’s recent post asking if dating with room mates cramps your style. My concise opinion was this.
I’m pretty forgiving when it comes to New York living arrangements, because I understand what it takes to “make it” here in the city. On one hand there’s the old adage of “if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere” but when it comes to the living situations of the people we date, I think we all have a point where we might draw the line….
With my parents living in California, I’ve always had my own apartment but I’ve never thought differently of New York guys who still lived at home. My friend Kenzie had a boyfriend who slept on a loft bed. She was cool with it, but the idea of needing a ladder to get in and out of bed simply does not appeal to me. When I was 19 I lived in room so narrow that any guy over 6 feet could stretch out and touch one wall with his feet and the other with his hands. Now that I’ve entered my 20’s that’s just not acceptable.
When it comes to New York living, how far is too far?
For me, a working man who lives in a Shelter is definitely “too far”.
Its kind of like the guy with the missing teeth. Perhaps Adrian should focus on getting his living situation together before he runs around this city passing out sticks of gum and inviting girls out for drinks.
P.S. Has anyone else dated a guy with a weird living situation? Where do you draw the line?
It was one of those random Saturday nights that just naturally unfolds. After dinner and drinks in Chelsea with my girlfriends, we decided that we wanted to go dancing. We piled into a cab and ten minutes later we were on the Lower East Side, making our way into one of those dance spots that’s super popular even though there’s no sign on the door.
Usually people email me their questions, but last week I got this inquiry via Twitter.
I’m California Girl too (♥) and although I can’t stand the cold, I do love the fashion it inspires. Luckily for us, West Coast style can be easily revamped for the streets of New York City. Lets start from the bottom up:
New York is a walking city, so you want to make sure you pack stylish kicks that you can walk a mile in. During the fall, I love to wear boots with a flat heel. Of course, a shoe with heels is the sexier choice, but keeping your balance so that you dont fall down in a pile of snow or lose your balance on a slippery ice patch is ALSO sexy. Flats help me navigate whatever is on the ground while keeping my speedy New York pace (p.s. I have a pair of flat boots with buckles up the back that are so vixen-like, you don’t even notice the lack of a heel).
Because you’re going to be packing things into a suitcase I suggest you look for a pair with a slouch. These will be more mailable so you can roll them up just like your clothes. I did a quick google search and maybe something like this could work.
I’m willing to bet that you already own some heels that you’d like to bring along on your trip. Because of the warm weather in LA, they might be open toed, so just slip some tights on (perhaps in a fun color) and open toed shoes are still be wearable when its 30 degrees out.
I would suggest making them NYC-proof by getting the soles/heels rubberized. You can get this done at a shoe repair shop for a pretty cheap price and again, this will ensure that you wont go sliding down 7th avenue or something.
Leggings are an obvious staple for this trip and this is where California style comes in handy. In the winter I actually prefer to wear dresses because then I don’t have to worry about the bottoms of my pants getting ruined on the sloppy slushy sidewalks. Tuck your tights and/or leggings into your knee high boots, throw on one of those summer dresses I’m sure you own and then put a cardigan over it to cover your arms and voila you’re bundled up in a cute way.
The look I’ve outlined above may not seem like enough layers to you, but when you add your gloves, scarf, hat and coat, you will be fine. There are many times I’ve overdressed and by the time I’ve walked 10 blocks in my coat and 3 layers of clothing, I’m actually sweating. So don’t overdo it.
Oh! a quick note on gloves: With our cell phone/blackberry/iPhone lifestyles gloves can be sooo annoying because you cant punch buttons. I discovered gloves like this and I won’t wear anything else. The flap comes on and off in 2 seconds freeing your fingers and making life so much easier.
I hope this was helpful, keep me posted on what you end up packing!
P.S. I love getting to know TBGB fans via email and Twitter! Email me here: firstname.lastname@example.org and follow me here!
Kenzie and I have been friends since we moved to New York City for college. During our sophomore year we were able to score fake IDs from older girls who looked like us and we decided to test them out by bar hopping on the Upper West Side. Kenzies long blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes and amazing body had caught the eye of a bartender at Mod, an upper west side bar with a 1970’s theme. With attention from the bartender came free drinks for the both of us. Shots… martinis… shots… martinis, all night.
We stumbled out of the bar laughing and holding onto each other for balance. “What’s happening? I’ve never been this drunk in my life!” I yelled. Kenzie and I lived in dorms that were six blocks apart and I came up with the idea that it would be safer to take a bus uptown instead of the train. We carefully made our way to 79th street where we leaned against the bus stop and waited. We’d been there for about 15 minutes when a yellow cab sped by, slammed on its breaks and then went in reverse until it was right in front of us. I froze as the cab driver rolled down his window.
“Where are you ladies going?” he asked.
Kenzie and I looked at each other, “We’re going uptown,” I said reluctantly.
“I’ll take you!” the cab driver said, unlocking the doors.
“Nooo nooo, its okay,” I said. Then I whispered into his window, “We don’t have any caaaash.”
“Don’t worry about it baby.”
Kenzie and I exchanged glances. I knew the decision was mine, so I quickly rationalized in my head that 1.) we’d been waiting on the bus for a long time… and 2.) if Kenzie had locked down free drinks for us all night, the least I could do was get us a free cab ride home.
We hopped in. The driver asked me where I was from, why I was living in New York and how long I had been here. I answered his questions as we rode uptown. I lived on 113th and Kenzie lived on 119th, so I should have been dropped off first, but the cab driver sped past my dorm as he continued to ask me questions. He pulled in front of Kenzies dorm and before she got out, she looked me in the eyes, “callmeassoonas yougethome,” she mumbled.
We waited until she was safely inside of her building and then he turned around to face me in the back seat. “Do you want to come sit up here with me?” he asked.
“Um… I’m fine back here.”
“No problem,” he turned back around and drove me to my intersection (I wouldn’t tell him where my exact building was) in silence. “Thanks for the ride,” I said as I reached to open my door and jump out.
“Wait,” he turned around in his seat again. “I– I think you’re a very beautiful woman. I work a lot and I don’t have time to meet people but, I’m looking for someone… a companion. I would like to see you again. Can I call you?”
I didn’t know what to say. I told him that I would take his number and said that I would call. Of course, I didn’t. He was sweet, but I wasn’t interested.
I swear this has happened more times than I can count. There was a super hot town car driver in Harlem who never asked me out, but insisted that I call him whenever I needed a ride. I spent the summer of 2008 with my own personal chauffeur… it was crazy.
Oh! and remember the Dating Driveby? He was a cab driver too!
Anyway, I’m sure the foreign/cultural thing has something to do with it, because most drivers are men of color. But would say on average I get one free cab ride per year. Sometimes I’m waiting for a bus and they offer to take me. Sometimes I go to hand them cash at the end of my trip and they say “don’t worry about it”. It’s usually harmless and I’ve never felt uncomfortable. I know a chubby girl who’s been living with her boyfriend for three years and she met him while riding in the back of his cab, so as I said before, I know I’m not the only PSP that this is happening to….
Of course the whole Taxi Cab phenomenon is more relevant to Big City PSP’s but, if you’ve had similar experiences please chime in!
Looking back on the men who’ve tried to “holler” at me, there are certain reoccurring trends. I can basically pin point specific “types” of men who I’ve consistently encountered as a Plus Size Princess in New York City and I’m willing to bet I’m not the only PSP they’re approaching. So, this week I begin a series called “Men Every Big Girl Will Meet”. Maybe some of these dudes will sound familiar… Here we go!
Theres a really sweet girl who has been interning at my office. She’s from the south, she has blonde hair, big green eyes and a chunky frame. I went to grab a cup of coffee the other day when I heard her talking to one of the other interns. Apparently, over the past week she:
Monday: Met a middle eastern guy on the train who was hot but way smaller/shorter than she’d like
Tuesday: Let him take her on her first date… ever
Wednesday: Had her first kiss with him (it was awful)
Thursday: Realized they weren’t a match due to his broken English and overly emotional ways
Friday: Dumped him.
Eavesdropped listened to the interns story, I realized she’d met… The Foreign Guy.
Foreign men love big women. So, when a big girl is shopping on 5th avenue where the mentality is that “you can’t be too skinny or too rich”, she shouldn’t be surprised when the foreign man on the corner selling knock-off handbags gives her more attention than the sales people at Saks.
I guess the obvious reason is that the standards of beauty in other countries are very different. In the sixth grade I can remember Mrs. Osaki teaching us about Yang Guifei, who brought down an ancient Chinese Dynasty because she was so hot. She was also chubby during a time when size conveyed a certain social/economic status. Basically she was fat because she could afford to eat, and everyone wanted to be fat to show that they could afford it too. The 11 year old Plus Size Princess in me was slightly annoyed that that I wasn’t born in that era. (Is there a Chinese translation for “You can never be too rich or too… fat?”).
Then there are the African and Middle Eastern countries where wives are sent away to fatten up in order to become attractive for their betrothed. The more they weigh on their wedding day, the better. As my engaged friends sign up for fitness boot camps in order to lose weight and fit into their wedding dresses, I wonder how much easier it would be if they were buying their dresses a size too big with the hopes of gaining weight, instead of a size too small in the hopes of losing it.
The other thing that stood out to me from our interns story was that her Foreigner was very emotional. I’d had a similar experience a few years back.
One night at Divas, I met a really cool economics major from Senegal. Obviously he liked big girls because he was at a big girl club. We had a good time on the dance floor so when he asked for my number, I gave it to him. He called me the next night to go to dinner. I didn’t have plans, so I went. After dinner, he became very clingy. He was calling me all the time, wanting to see me, telling me I was the girl he’d been looking for etc. etc. He was saying nice things, but it didn’t sit well with me. After a while I realized… he was lonely.
A lot of these foreign guys come to the states for a better life, but they leave a lot behind. They don’t have family or friends here, but they aren’t socially acclimated to American culture which can make it difficult to make friends. Especially in a city like New York, where although there are millions of people its easy to feel isolated.
I’m not saying that all foreign men are tragic and lonely. I’ve had a good time dating Middle Eastern, Australian, African, and Turkish guys. My mom is an American girl who got swept off her feet by an engineering major from across the Atlantic and 30+ years later they’re still together (and he’s a great husband and father ♥). But my mom was a little thick back in the day and my Dad liked what he saw. So their love story still falls under this category.
Foreign men like girls with a little extra here and there, which actually brings me to the next man every big girl (in New York) will meet: The Cab Driver. But more on that next week… stay tuned!
P.S. Have any of you dated a guy from another country? Or been approached by one online? How’d it go?
You might get mad at me for this one, but here goes….
I’ve been noticing a trend among the big girls that I see in New York City and its not good. Whether I’m on 125th, in Soho or navigating the sea of tourists on 34th street; lately, if I’ve seen a big girl her style catches my eye (and not in a good way).
These days when I see a group of girls, the big girl is the one who’s outfit is over the top. The abundance of piercings, extreme extensions, crazy hair dye, unflattering leggings in awful colors, offensive cleavage, color contacts… etc. is mind boggling!
Just so we’re clear, when it comes to this issue, I’m not sitting on my high-fashion-horse looking down. I’ve been that girl. I’ve died my hair, pierced my nose and while I love my boobies, I’m sure I’ve been a little over zealous in sharing them with the world. But ultimately, I realized that I was doing instant changes to my looks and ignoring the one change that I actually needed to spend time on, my weight.
I was in a bar bathroom about a year ago and there was an advertisement for a local gym next to the mirror. It said “Putting on Lipstick Wont Make You Thinner!” So many PSP’s are attempting to use external things to distract from their weight and it doesn’t work!
That piercing wont make you thinner!
Having hair extensions wont make you thinner!
Changing your eyes from brown to blue wont. make. you. thinner!
For the record, I think you can be fat and fabulous (duh!), you can be fat and fashionable (double duh). I’m talking to those of us who’ve become fat fashion victims. It’s like, instead of embracing trends and personal style we’re being overtaken by these things. Its an easy trap to fall into because it’s instant gratification. Hearing “you look cute today” feels good, especially if we feel like our weight keeps people from seeing us a certain way… but lets keep it all in perspective.
Because at the end of the day when we take out our piercings, fake hair and contacts… if we don’t feel comfortable in our own skin– it doesn’t matter.