2nd 30 Day Letter Challenge--Day Nine: Letter to the Last Person You Hugged

Hmm...I'm not sure which of you I hugged first and which I hugged second, so I'll write to both of you, I guess. I'd just met both of you a few hours before and your hugs were within ten seconds of each other, so it seems appropriate.

Dear J and M,


You're both pretty cool guys. I was surprised by how much I meant it when I told you it was great meeting both of you. Usually that's just something you say because it's socially normative, but it actually really was a pleasure meeting both of you--and not just because you bought us shots, M. (Side note: a round is totally on me at some point in the future.)
I feel like our time at Corner on Friday night might well be my first like, overwhelmingly positive being-at-a-bar-with-strangers experience. Hailing from a magical place called the Princeton Quadrangle Club where the liquor flows free (read: is included in the gazillions of dollars Princeton spends for me to be a member), I haven't spent a huge amount of time in bars since I turned 21 in January. In fact, the number of times I'd been out drinking in my entire life more than doubled in the two weeks I was home between Princeton and New Brunswick, making me wonder what I used to do when I was home (ABSOLUTELY NOTHING). 
Anyway, two of my going-out-drinking experiences when I was home included strangers. One was pretty neutral, as the strangers seemed nice enough but had been going for a while by the time my friend F and I joined, and basically left us to our own devices. One of their dad's bought us all a drink, though, so that was nice and canceled out the fact that we were being ignored. The other was like, a pretty good experience with my best friend from forever and some of his new friends, who I'd been dying to meet, but Idk I guess I just didn't click with them as much. We sat down and had dinner and talked and stuff over our drinks, but it still wasn't anything special.
But you guys...J, when you came from across the street, picked T up, and carried her inside the bar, I knew it was going to be a good night. M, when you said J was supposed to meet you two hours before, and you'd had a pitcher and a half to yourself while you were waiting for him, I knew you were going to be fun people to hang out with. J, you made your smartphone's 1001 Cocktails app readily available to satisfy our whims. M, you bought us delicious colorful Kool-Aid flavored vodka and gracefully (lol) lost two games of pool to us girls. J, you wrote T a message in the sand on the shuffleboard table as we struggled to figure out how the game was supposed to work and made her smile. Neither of you made a big deal about the fact that I go to Princeton, like a lot of people I meet do (+2 awesome points), and talking with you guys just seemed easy and natural. There was none of that weird I'm just gonna talk to the person I'm actually friends with like I experienced at other bars-with-strangers outings; I felt really included and like we could all be good friends. 
I'm really looking forward to getting to hang out with you guys again. I feel like Quad would love you, haha. T and/or I must have a party for you both to come to. And M, I'm seriously taking you up on your parent's pool if your offer was serious. 

Here's to a fun summer, guys!

Maya 

Summer is here! (I'm backkkk)

I did something totally and completely unheard of yesterday. Something I haven't done since the early days of high school sometime, when going to the beach/pool was a once-or-twice-a-summer occurrence and didn't really warrant any worrying or forethought. Something that even then, was only really done in front of my family, who wouldn't judge me too hard. 

I, Maya Reid, of sound mind and body, wore a two-piece bathing suit. And I'm not talking about a tankini or a little skirted thing--full on bright blue bikini. PUBLICLY. To the beach. In front of people I haven't seen in years and people I'm very close to. And total strangers I'll never see again. And besides being worried that every single wave was going to result in my boobs popping out of that halter top--(d-cup bikinis from dELIA*s are totally not designed for anyone with actual d-cups. Fyi. Anyone know where a busty woman can get a bikini that won't try to flash everyone as soon as it gets wet?), I wasn't nervous or embarrassed. I had brought along my old skirted one-piece in case I felt uncomfortable, but I never even thought about changing into it! And yeah, maybe the other girls who were with me in bikinis were skinny little athletic bitches, but it didn't matter. Because I felt comfortable in my own skin. And it has been a long time since I've been able to say that and really mean it.


I think the single most valuable thing that I've gained this semester/year/a little bit every day is confidence. It's the thing I remember lacking most severely in high school and one of the biggest changes I can see in myself over the last year or two. Emotionally, intellectually, physically...I'm not scared anymore. So what if I cry at everything and get emotionally attached ridiculously quickly? So what if my ideas don't match yours--the world would be boring if no one ever argued or played devil's advocate. So what if I'm not a size two and my hip bones don't protrude from my body like all the bikini models? All that stuff isn't me. I'm me. And I'm happy being me. I love me. And somebody else loves me. There's something about being loved like that that makes me feel beautiful in a way that can't be messed up by a lack of makeup or bed-head or an overabundance of curves--he's helped me bridge the gap between feeling like beauty is something I do and realizing that beauty is something I am. So if I had any haters yesterday, fuck y'all. I'm beautiful.