Sometimes It Sucks Being a Woman

No, this is not an entry about periods or childbirth.

I'm talking about the dreaded task of taking your car in for routine maintenance.

Yesterday I dedicated my morning to getting my car worked on. First stop - Les Schwab to get my tires rotated and my brakes checked.

I recognize that because this is a complimentary service, they might take a bit longer than on the cars by paying customers. But for pete's sake, I was there for an hour! And literally, there were about 2 people in the waiting room. I'm pretty sure the guy in line in front of me was getting the same service done, and he was in and out.

Mine took forever because there were 2 separate attempts of trying to sell me on things to get done on my car - something about tie rods and resurfacing my rotors.

UGH, I dread taking my car into places like this because I know it's going to be one sales pitch/fear mongering attempt after another. Like if I don't resurface my rotors that JUST got put in this past July, I might just swerve off the road and die in a ditch?

Maybe I'm reaching here, but I feel like men don't have to deal with this as much. It appears to me that because these car people assume other men know about their cars that it's pointless to try and sell them a $400 brake job. But little ignorant ol' me has no clue about cars, so let's swindle me for all I got!

I know the economy is tough, and everyone needs to make sales right now. But this has gone on in good times as well.

As I usually point out in my blogs, here's another example of Tracy doing something dumb (not that I always like to highlight how dumb I can be. I just think it shows I've learned many lessons thus far the hard way!). A couple years ago, I was having my oil changed at Jiffy Lube in Eugene, right after I graduated from Oregon. I made the mistake of telling the mechanic there that I was planning on driving 500 miles home the next day. And boy did he capitalize on that one.

"Well your radiator definitely needs to be flushed. There's a lot of sludge in there, and honestly, if you're driving that far tomorrow, you're going to overheat."

Again with the fear mongering.

So I obliged to the radiator flush and discovered it was $100!!! I instantly called my dad to ask if this was even necessary, and he promptly yelled at me that it was not needed and that I should tell the guy not to do it.

The mechanic, overhearing my conversation with my dad, told me he couldn't stop - the process had already begun. Then he tries to smooth it over. "I know how it is. I have 2 young daughters myself, so I'm not trying to sell you something you don't need. You needed this."

No, sir. I did NOT need it, our family mechanic told me later that summer. I had been taken advantage of, and it pissed me off!

So I've always had this fear of taking my car in to get work done.

My mom always tells me to just say no to everything they recommend and then say, "My dad/boyfriend is going to take care of that for me." Sorry, Mom, but no way! That just perpetuates the stereotype that only men know things about cars.

Back to yesterday. I survived Les Schwab unscathed, just annoyed that it took so long. I guess there was an issue with one of my tire studs - it broke off, so they fixed that for free (they'd better!).

Next stop - the dreaded oil change.

There was no way in hell I was going to Jiffy Lube again, so I went to a place where I had a coupon. I practiced in the car on the way there saying "No. No. No." Just say no to everything.

Everything went really smoothly, and they didn't try to push anything on me at all. Hallelujah! I'm definitely going back to that place. They seem female friendly! FYI - it's called SpeeDee Oil Change (I looked past the annoying misspelling of the place. Hey, I can deal with bad grammar if it means my Malibu can get me to work).

I do admit that I don't know much about cars, so of course I can be an easy target. Not to mention, I'm a people pleaser and hate saying no. So it's sales situations like this that are hard for me. I admit that after Les Schwab, I called my dad and asked if I'd done the right thing by saying no to the tie rods (I knew the resurfacing job was bogus). Of course my dad said I did the right thing. But then again, he always wants me to say no to boys in every aspect!

Rejection then Perfection

I was rejected last week from something I'd applied for, something I'd felt pretty good about. I was rejected via e-mail - that's the relationship equivalent to getting dumped over a text message. I wasn't even worth a phone call to these bastards!

But instead of getting all weepy and pathetic, I shook it off and got back on with my life. That got me thinking about all the rejection I've experienced in my life and how it's really toughened me up. And I'm not trying to throw a Pity Party and say "Oh poor me. Nobody loves me, blah blah blah." I know I'm a valuable person that has a lot to offer. But that doesn't make me any less susceptible to rejection.

Not all, but many of my experiences in rejection have been in the arena of boys. I remember liking this guy Owen in 10th grade. He was a senior and we were in the same Chemistry class. A semi-mutual friend of ours let me in on a little secret: apparently Owen had a crush on a girl in his Chemistry class - a younger girl. Well, after scoping out my competition (not saying I was spectacular - pretty sure I had braces at the time - but I figured he was referring to me since he didn't talk to any other younger girls in the class besides me).

So Brilliant Me got the fantastic idea to write Owen a note (with a pink pen even!) and leave it on the windshield of his car. I basically just wrote a bunch of gibberish and added my phone number at the end. And then I waited. Waited alllll weekend to hear from him. Not a peep. Hmm, strange.

Come Monday morning, I was quickly told that Owen had a new girlfriend - my enemy Kelley! How in Hades did THAT happen? I'm guessing our mutual friend had received some bad information (or blatantly screwed my ass over - I'm still unsure which), and I had now humiliated myself.

When I look back on that now, I remember I felt awful at school and wanted nothing more than to go home, cry to my mom and listen to the sad tunes of Britney Spears or *NSYNC. Nothing spells out teen angst better than "I'm Not a Girl, Yet Not a Woman" and "Digital Get Down." But I also think back and realize, why was I so sad over that dipshit? He was a juggler for crying out loud! And no, not a juggler of women. An actual juggler - he was always seen throwing around some lame rings or dumb ass hacky sacks. Could Ringling Brother really have made me happy? Highly doubtful.

Then there was the time I was rejected by a guy on national television. Granted, it was a hot, famous BMX rider (Dave Mirra). When MTV came to Lake Tahoe a few years ago, my friend and I went up there to be in some of the beach shots for TRL. It was all taped, so the coverage wasn't shown until the following week. They taped me asking Dave Mirra what he was scared of and if he would marry me (yes, I actually did this). I watched in anticipation that next week when Dave finally came on TRL. His reaction to my request? "Whoa, that's what I'm scared of right there!" or something to that effect. Sigh. Even famous people who are 3,000 miles away and will clearly never meet me couldn't even throw me a bone.

Besides male rejection, I have also experienced academic rejection. I applied for this huge scholarship in college that would have paid for an entire year's worth of tuition. It was for anyone who graduated from my high school in NV, so I figured the pool of applicants (and my competition) was pretty small. I was on the phone with my dad when the letter came, and he listened to me as I opened it all excitedly. Ugh. A big fat NO. I definitely cried after that one.

I can't even begin to cover all the jobs I've been rejected from. Before I joined the PR firm I work for now, I was rejected from some ghetto ass legal secretary job in an office that consisted of one fat ass lawyer and his part-time associate. And he worked in Loomis (with a population of like 40). I'm sure I couldn't have handled the multi-phone line system when his plethora of calls came in. Oh, and that copy machine? That new-fangled contraption can be a bitch to learn how to use.

Overall, I've had my share of being told "no." And while rejection is never fun or easy, it doesn't make me feel as incapacitated as it did when I was younger. A guy not liking me was the end of the world in high school. Not getting a position or scholarship or spot on the cheerleading squad was hard for me and left me questioning myself a lot.

I still question myself at times, but it's those accomplishments and times I've heard "yes" that keep me going. I beat out 100 people for my current position at work, and my oh-so-selfless parents were the best scholarship fund a gal could ask for! I still get rejected by guys, but I've had the pleasure of meeting some really nice ones who have changed me and helped me grow.

Without that risk of rejection, I would not be where I am today. Now I'm better able to shrug things off and move forward. And just think: if I hadn't experienced rejection, I would be some asshole lawyer's bitch and the wife of a circus freak.

17 Again

I went to Erica's last night, and we (OK, fine....SHE) cooked dinner and we watched "17 Again." The movie stars Zac Efron (a.k.a. the hottie from "Hairspray" who is way too young for me), and the premise involves Zac Efron as an adult getting to go back to being his 17-year-old self and attend high school with his two teenaged kids (kind of like "Big," only not as classic).

This got me thinking about what it would be like if I could go back to being my 17-year-old self (like in the above picture, circa 2003). Granted, that was only 6-1/2 years ago, but it made me realize how far I've come since high school.

For example:

17-year-old Tracy
I was somehow under the illusion that I had an awesome relationship with my boyfriend at the time. We were "in love" and without-a-doubt going to end up together. During our junior year of high school, he revealed to me one fine afternoon that he'd cheated on me with this incredibly awful girl named Jessie.....like 6 months prior! Ahhh, yes. A point for his honesty. And -10,000 points for his punk ass cheating on the one-and-only Tracy T! I cried for days about it, and what do ya know? All it took for that character to get back into my good graces was a poem and a couple "I'm sorrys." We spent the next year of our relationship fighting, with me bringing up the Jessie infidelity in probably 87% of every argument.

23-year-old Tracy
I've had my heart broken in the worst ways, and while this has made me incredibly sad at times, it has also thickened my skin to the point where I feel so much more confident in my relationships. I'm nowhere near where I want to be, but the progress I've made after each gut-wrenching, nausea-inducing break up is invaluable. If I could go back to being 17, I would have kicked that prick to the curb way sooner! Probably even before the cheating confession. We had a myriad of problems from the get-go, which is kind of the drill when it comes to high school trysts. I've learned from my most recent relationship that if you have a deal-breaker of a problem and you break up, there's no going back or making things better the second, third, three-hundredth time around. I was WAY into the last guy I dated (think that lovely four-letter word starting with "L"). He, on the other hand, was NOT feeling me in the same way. I think his exact words were, "I'm not sure if the love I have for you is for a girlfriend or a friend. Oh, and you also remind me of my sister." (Insert another mix of four-letter words here, namely ones that begin with "S" and "F"). I could have continued dating him because we always had a good time together, no fighting, no overt problems. But there was that voice inside my head telling me that if someone is unsure if they are in love with me after 8 months, it's high time to pack my bags and jet like a bat outta Hades.

My high school BF obviously embodied everything wrong in a relationship (cocky, dishonest, unfaithful, guilt-tripping, name-calling, etc.), but I was so naive and a pushover that it took me way too long to stand up for myself (speaking of which, true story: my dad told me he'd pay me $50 to tell my high school boyfriend to "go f*** himself." I did it. Several times. Where's the cash, Dad? Oh yeah....he did pay for my college, so I shouldn't complain).

Overall lesson learned: Dump the zeros so as to make room for the heroes.

17-year-old Tracy
My best friend Christina and I have been tight ever since middle school. She and I are both nerds to the core and adore Harry Potter. Not to mention, we made up some kick ass dance routines to Ace of Base while messing around during school play practice. At 17, I don't think I valued her as much as I do now. I saw every close girlfriend as my competition - competing for male attention, better grades, getting into the best school, the best dress for the homecoming dance...you catch my drift. Everything was a race - I remember even feeling triumphant when I bought the new Britney Spears CD before Christina did. Why all of the competition and jealousy?

Well, it didn't help that Christina and I were both very wrapped up in our boyfriends at 17. We were both interested in joining the debate team, but at the last minute, Christina backed out because she said she was too busy with other commitments. And what do ya know, I happened to stop by a local high school that was holding debate tournaments, and who do I see coming out of the competition? Christina and her new partner, Amie! Ahh yes...that was a nice blow. But I guess I deserved it because I stole Christina's boyfriend Bryan in 8th grade (oh, and how that little fruitcake was so not worth the fighting). All I know is that she and I had issues in high school despite our close friendship.

23-year-old Tracy
There is not a good thing that happens to Christina that doesn't make me 10 times happier. Seeing her succeed and live her dreams is the ultimate, and I can't think of a recent time when I didn't wish anything less than good things for her. She is way ahead of the game (more so than me, I'd say): she's a medical student, she's been with her boyfriend for a number of years in a healthy, stable relationship (what the hell is that like?), she actually knows what it's like to live with a guy successfully, she is well traveled and she was recently crowned Miss Nevada! I cried when she won because I've been attending almost every pageant of hers for the last 6 years (or at least the ones I could attend - she's competed a lot on the east coast as well).

So basically, her happiness is my happiness. I don't begrudge her or feel jealous when good things come her way. Wouldn't I expect the same from my best friend?

Overall lesson learned: There are only a rare number of friends we will carry with us for the rest of our lives, so don't let petty, irrelevant things jeopardize this. (Two of my best friends below, Amie - yes, the "other" woman at the debate tournament - Christina and me at the 2009 Miss Nevada Pageant in Reno).


17-year-old Tracy
OK, so technically I was 18 when this happened, but I thought this was a really good example of self-reliance. During my freshman year of college at the University of Oregon, I thought I'd overdosed on - you guessed it - Vitamin C. While most of my classmates were toking it up in their rooms or popping Aderalls left and right in order to stay up and study, I was tricked into taking too much Vitamin C and Zinc from my BF at the time in order to combat the cold I thought I was catching.

Now, a little background here. I used to have a major case of emetophobia. This is the fear of throwing up, and yes it's real (it's actually one of the Top 10 most common phobias). I'm not as bad as I used to be, but during freshman year, my fear was in high gear (wow, that was a lot of rhyming). So after popping a few too many of each pill, I freaked out and called my parents. Bad idea. My dad called Poison Control and told me I'd be fine. (He later told me out of spite after I snapped at him that P.C. had actually told him I might throw up. Thanks, Pop). I was fine, but it sure gave me a scare.

23-year-old Tracy
While I may have 4 different types of hand sanitizer in my purse, I'm not going to be on an episode of A&E's "Obsessed" anytime soon. I think college taught me how to rely on myself and my own resources before resorting to the panicked parental call. I now stop and think about how I can best solve something, and if I'm in need of further advice or insight, I tend to call my parents in a more relaxed state. A lot less freak outs and panic attacks these days, not to mention I no longer need to use my membership for the online International Emetophobia Society (yes, I was a member at one point). I still call my parents often because they mean the world to me, but it's safe to say I no longer need adult supervision when it comes to my pill intake. I took my multivitamin this morning and feel just fine.

Overall lesson learned: It's a thrilling experience when your mom and dad slowly transition out of the "parenting" stage and you no longer need them to hold your hand when you cross that metaphorical street. But that doesn't mean you don't want them right by your side when you do cross.

In sum, I'm very happy with how I've turned out so far as a young adult. I think the melodrama was fun while it lasted, but being a grown up is so much better! I have more meaningful relationships, my friends are my best allies and there's nothing I love more than feeling proud when I accomplish something all by myself.