Melania

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Information

  • How old am I:
  • 37
  • Who do I prefer:
  • Male
  • My Sign of the zodiac:
  • Taurus
  • I prefer to listen:
  • Reggae
  • My hobbies:
  • Surfing the net

About

Not registered? Register here. Alcantara grew up in the Bronx and says she didn't initially know much about healthy eating.

Description

My quest to finish sixty days of Insanity and have a bikini-worthy bod has failed. Partly because I was benched after my unfortunate coccyx injury. The other part? I saw my body begin to transform and liked it. I simply hated that I never, ever, ever quit being sore.

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I vividly remember a conversation I had in my late twenties with a cousin close to my age. We talked about the joy of letting it all go once we reached fifty. Our free time would be spent skulking around garage sales. What a couple of assholes. First of all, I hate garage sales and why the hell did we think our sense of style would end once we turned fifty years old? Leave me standing in my Hanky Panky because as embarrassing as my naked thong-wearing ass might be in public, I will not wear the fabric of my grandmother.

Now, yoga pants with Spandex or skinny jeans with Lycra? Could those be the version of polyester? I discretely maneuvered myself into a position to make sure the body matched the face and yep, it did. He was in good shape and his basket was filled with all kinds of interesting stuff. A pair so tragically functional it was as if he worked in Nude insanity workout machete factory and had butterfingers.

I got so caught up in his dreadful footwear that I failed to swipe my card and the clerk had to ask my preferred method of payment—twice. What would motivate someone to buy those beasts?

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I really need a vacation. A vacation with lots of sex would be ideal…. A naked man in shoes looks like a fool. Rarely having the disposable income to hire it done has certainly contributed to the condition.

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Want a lightly toasted bagel and coffee delivered precisely ten minutes before you head to work in the morning? No problem. Relax and let a dog walker wear the slicker. Especially as I lug a new vacuum ten blocks from Bed Bath and Beyond to my apartment. Last week I helped a friend empty her storage unit. She rented it seven years ago and the stuff had been inside, undisturbed, for all that time.

Everything is crazy expensive in the city and storage units are no exception. Like most Manhattanites, she looked for ways to cut costs and paying to store forgotten possessions was a logical thing to chop.

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I told her if we could do it in three hours I was available as I had plans early that night more on that later. We headed to Manhattan Mini Storage and got busy. I created three piles: Garbage, Sell, and Keep. Once finished she thanked me and commented on my physical strength as I lifted heavy boxes and suitcases from an upper level unit that required standing on a ladder and reaching inside. I am strong and I attribute that to my father. Being a girl never got me a manual labor pass. If something substantial had to be hoisted or carried I was expected to grab a side and go, without hesitation.

But since my Nude insanity workout did the grocery shopping and cooking along with the heavy lifting, the Equal Rights Amendment reached ratification in in one tract home on McKinley Avenue. On Saturday I went to Home Depot. Many are just pipedreams—the result of living in a rental apartment where management might get testy if I walked in with the bathtub of my dreams and a sledgehammer. Saturday I was there to buy containers and several bags of potting soil. He sells deeply discounted flowers and plants that have seen better days. I have a suspicion he gets his wares from the dumpsters of florists.

I call him Dead Flower Guy and snicker when I see people actually paying for those wilted bouquets.

I turned into one of those fools on Saturday when I noticed two not too dead azalea plants. The price was right and I bought them. My daughter Morgan brought the car to the 3 rd Avenue Home Depot and we loaded the bags of soil and pots inside—she helped bring them into my building, too.

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Pedro doorman extraordinaire jumped up to give us a hand as he always does. I planted the azaleas on Sunday afternoon. It was a beautiful day and it felt good to be in the sunshine on the terrace up to my elbows in dirt. I longed for someone to share in the toiling as well as the moment where one stands back and admires the accomplishment. Not just any man.

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THE man. Last Friday night I squeezed into shape wear and met a single girlfriend for drinks. Our goal was to find a happy hour spot where age appropriate single men gather.

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We started at Milos and went to another place nearby, but had no luck. If anyone knows where men of a certain age gather after work in Manhattan, please share the love.

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As much as I enjoyed blogging about the experiences, one awful meeting after another took its toll. It has taken several months to consider dating again and that might explain gaining seven pounds. When I took myself off the market I was no longer competing with the plethora of walking x-rays who inhabit this city. My life is dogma-free. You will never find me praying to God, Allah, Buddha or Jesus.

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Two days later, Nigel was mine. Thanks, Universe. These are just two examples of things that happen often. When something was difficult, the old me would plow through the muck no matter how tough—forcing the outcome. It seemed when I pushed hardest and got what I wanted it turned into a mistake.

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I know. The accent part was over the top but when sending thoughts into the ether of no deity, one is allowed to be a greedy bitch. I picture a fifty-year-old version of Gerard Butler, comfortable with a multitude of drill bits. The kind of guy who uses a level instead of determining a picture is straight by eyeballing it.

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Work your magic. It is the source of all true art and science. He to whom the emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand wrapped in awe, is as good as dead —his eyes are closed.

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The insight into the mystery of life, coupled though it be with fear, has also given rise to religion. To know what is impenetrable to us really exists, manifesting itself as the highest wisdom and the most radiant beauty, which our dull faculties can comprehend only in their most primitive forms—this knowledge, this feeling is at the center of true religiousness. I slowly and painfully maneuvered the streets from my apartment to doggie paradise with a stiff-legged hitch-y walk that should only be described as strange. Even Nigel was embarrassed to be seen with me.

All the dogs are laughing at us. Kate just pretended I was her dog walker. She gets paid to walk us.

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