Is it too early in the semester for me to see how many times in a row I can snooze my alarm before I have to wear pajamas to class?
Because I am wearing pajamas to class today. The snooze button won.
Is it too early in the semester to be behind on everything?
Because I have about 87 projects coming up or due that, I don’t know, I just haven’t gotten around to starting.
Is it too early in the semester to completely shut off every single ounce of motivation that I have to finish?
What is your biggest insecurity?
Insecurities are a tough thing to talk about. We all have them, but when it’s something that we suffer from, we don’t want to bring it to the attention of other people and shine light on it when we are trying to forget or hide the flaw from ourselves.
I have major internal conflicts every other week about the fact that I don’t really know what I’m doing with my life and that I don’t have a set plan yet.
I have insecurities about outward appearance. Being a 21 year old female in a college setting, it’s hard not to compare myself to the people around me. It’s hard not to say, oh if only my hips were a little more slim, or if only my skin were a little more clear.
But then I have to step back and think about, do these things bother me or do they bother me because I think that it’s how I “should” appear based on popular society’s opinion on beauty in women my age?
I am a beautiful girl with a complex and witty personality. Sure, I may not always feel like I meet some star dad of physical beauty, but I know that I can set my own standard. If I am happy with myself and who I am, to hell with the opinion of others.
I feel fortunate that I am able to say these things, because not everyone can win their battle with body confidence. Not everyone can love the skin that their in. But there are organizations out there aimed at helping these people see their own beauty. There are people who want to help them thrive and understand that these blockades and walls that we put up internally, they can be knocked down. The National Organization for Anorexia Nervosa and Associated disorders is one of those organizations. I strongly encourage everyone, whether you suffer with issues in body confidence or eating disorders or you don’t, support this organization. Help save lives. Help spread the word that we are all beautiful, no matter what.
Check out ANAD’s webpage here: http://www.anad.org
Questions, comments, concerns? Place them in my anonymous ask box: http://ask.fm/mazforthefanz
Hi, you suck,
You don’t actually. But I like to put you in your place from time to time. It just serves the purpose that I am in charge and have established dominance. I also know that you laughed at that, which is just another reason why I’m in charge of this situation.
You were the first boy that I truly loved outside of a familial tie. And don’t get crazy homie. I ain’t in love with you. I just love you, and yes there’s a difference, even though I’m sure that you’d love to argue that. Just shut it down now, there is a difference.
You’re the boy that I’ll marry when I’m 65, lived a whole life, had kids, became a widow and forgot what it’s like to talk to anyone besides cats. I’ll need company and I can put up with you extendedly. We do have a marriage pact, but I think we’re both way too hot of commodities to not be off the market by 30ish, so I won’t be Julia Roberts and you won’t be Nick Nolte. We won’t sing “I Say A Little Prayer for You”. I also know that you don’t understand that reference AT ALL, which is just one more thing that makes this work. I can tell you all the obscure movie references and you’ll tell me about all of the really great music you’ve been listening to, even if I think it’s sh*t at first.
You were the easiest love letter to write this week, because even though I don’t see you even nearly as often as I wish, I know that you’re always a phone call, text or FaceTime away. I know that if I need you for dumb advice in the middle of the drunken night, you give it to me straight, even though you know I probably will still make a stupid choice anyway. And you don’t judge me in the aftermath.
You are that best friend that time doesn’t erode. We can brush our teeth together and share your roommate’s face wash and still not be sick of each other immeadiatiately, shockingly.
I love you. Plain and simple. No strings attached, you know that I’m here at any single point that you may need me.
I’ll Try My Best, How Much Do I Invest?
I’m not starting with “hi!”, I’m starting with thank you, because have you seen yourself in the mirror? Wow. Really, wow. You are a treat.
I don’t really know anything about you, whatsoever, other than when I see you, it gets a whole lot of emotions stirring, mostly lustful ones because again, wow. I always hope that you’re smart. You look like you should be smart, but you also look like you might use that smartness in a d*uchey way, which, let’s be real, is also hot.
I don’t fantasize that you’re very nice because, if I ever do grow a pair and approach you and you are as kind as you are beautiful, man I’m going to launch myself at you, climb you like a tree, as it were. Homie, you’re going down like a sack of potatoes. Good luck.
Keep wearing that peacoat around town, looking mighty fine. It does not go unappreciated.
Sincerely Yours (In My Dreams),
Hi, hey, hello,
How’ve ya been? Good? Good. That’s good.
That’s really good. And I mean that. I actually love that you’re happy. I love that you’re in a good place and that you are smiling and that it has nothing to do with me.
I’ve waited for the day that this would make me happy and not jealous. And it finally has.
I haven’t forgotten what I felt with and about you and I sometimes have moments where I wonder if those feelings will ever go away. I hope that they don’t. Because I don’t want to forget that happy girl on the hill as the sunset. I don’t want to forget the laughter bouncing off of the steps of the statue. Or the sense of wonder felt exploring the market for the first time. I have no desire to forget that or you.
And I know that I don’t need to forget or diminish in order to feel that same level of happiness elsewhere. I can still hold those moments closely, but still feel the happiness of the moments that I live here and now. And I think that’s why I’m not jealous anymore, because I know that you can do the same.
I’m glad that you’re happy and I hope that you’re glad that I am too,
Hey there… You… I’m actual not sure what your name is… I just have you in my phone as “Stalker”…
I am really, really flattered that you’ve been reaching out to me. Admittedly, a little creeped out, but I guess flattered nonetheless. You’re a sweet guy.
I think. I’m actually not totally sure, considering I’ve only ever talked to you once , maybe twice. I’m not entirely certain why you’ve taken this certain shine to me, even after I’ve rebuked your offers of conversation and meet ups more times than I can recall. Nonetheless, you continue to reach out and try to talk to me. You even try to guilt trip me when I don’t answer.
Have to say, it’s kind of scary and I really hope that you don’t know where I live.
Not a Fan of this Fan, Maz
Hi! I’m sorry I went AWOL last week, I had the flu and couldn’t determine up from down, let alone write anything worth while. So, we interrupt our normal Ask Maz Monday programming to give you what was promised last week, which were “love” letters; so without furtherer ado, Love Letter #1:
I have to admit that I was a little surprised when I got your text. I was a little surprised that one) I was hearing from you and two) you weren’t being a total d*uchebag. Actually, change that little surprise to shocked. I was shocked.
I was a little excited, because let’s face it, you’re hot. But then I remembered how you treated me. And before I replied with, “hey! I’m good, how have you been? We should catch up some time!” I stepped away, took a picture of the trashcan in my kitchen and sent it with the caption: “this reminded me of you.”
Just because you have a pretty face, doesn’t mean you can treat a person the way that you did and then expect to come back whenever you’re bored or between flings. It doesn’t work like that. I’m too busy for the games you play and I respect myself far too much than to allow myself to be the second choice. So next time you think about texting me, unless it’s an apology and a 15 step plan of how you’ve changed and intend to be better, you can politely f*ck off.
Have a great V-Day, hope you get VD,