In my entire life. Seriously. For those of you who don’t know how I got back to Hawaii, here is the story. Mind you, I had planned on moving back. I just got here about (however long it is/was going to take me to retire) years before planned.

I am an Outskirts of the City sort of girl. I don’t like to live in the city because in my head I am a 75 year old cranky old broad who hates noise and teenagers. In reality, I am a 34 year old cranky old broad who hates teenagers and is not fond of loud noises. But the thought of moving back to, good ol’ laid back Hawaii wasn’t something I was prepared for, just yet. I wanted to live like a young career woman, whose world was at her fingertips. I wanted to be able to push buttons, snap my fingers, stomp my feet and have everything happen. The way I wanted it to happen. The way it should have happened. Right? Ok. Back to my worst decision ever story …

I decided to leave Los Angeles and head to New York City. I had been told by many people that New York was an inflexible lady and hard to appease but in my cocky little mind I thought I would be able to break through her invincible barricade and feel the loving tenderness of her concrete jungle as it embraced me and all my whims. For about five months I was living the good life.

The saying goes, “Nothing is ever Free” but occasionally you can get around that or find a loophole. New York City is the exception. Nothing is Free. Not even networking discussions. Someone always wants something from you and they take it. Often times without you knowing, leaving you feeling violated and bitter. But before the violation came the hammer.

I had just moved to NYC in February and then on June 30, 2008 I was handed my last check (plus a small severance) and a piece of paper that said Thanks for stopping by, sorry you had to move yourself across the country to be here but we’ve decided we don’t have money to spend on Marketing and therefore have no need for your services.

I had a year long hate/sometimes hate more relationship with NYC and then I got a call from my parents. They offered to house me, feed me, clothe me (no wait .. I had my own clothes) and basically live rent free while I got back on my feet. Oh. Did I mention that I have a very cute and adorable fluffy little white bichi poo? And a mother who insisted she was allergic to all animals (especially my dog whom she had never met). It took me about 2 months to accept their generous offer. It hurt my pride. It hurt everything. I had lived outside of my parents roof for more than 15 years and here I was .. a 30 something year old, moving back in with my parents. I had become a statistic.

This was over a year ago. Between now and then my mother (allergic to all animals) absolutely loves Dante (cute fluffy white dog) and I have managed to drop 40 pounds* by getting into a workout routine that entails hitting the gym atleast 5 times a week, eating as much korean food as my mom can possibly make and .. oh yeah. I got married to TG. Which makes moving to NYC the worst and then best decision I have ever made. Hands down. Period.

* For me, I didn’t realize what my outside appearance did to my inside until I shed some much needed layers. I began to lose weight. Significant amounts of weight. I dropped half of me (in dress sizes) and all of a sudden I felt different. I can’t say that I was unhappy when I weighed more but I can say I am a different and better person now that I weigh less. At the time, I was ok with where I was. I didn’t feel the need to change anything. But at the same time I was also ok with thinking I would live alone for the rest of my life. I was ok with thinking I would be a super career woman. I thought I wanted to live my life without sharing my dreams with that special someone. When I lost my weight I found a new woman. I became a confident woman. And I’m not talking that false bravado stuff. I lost the woman that was ok with being alone for the rest of her life because of her unwillingness to see what she could have if she worked just a little harder. At everything. I do.

My sincerest apologies if the above paragraph offends anyone. I’d like to take this chance to blame my lack of tact on my being Korean. Although, I don’t think I lacked tact in anything I wrote. Trust me. I know what no tact sounds like and it aint pretty.