march 29th...does that come in a bigger size?

does that come in a bigger size?
Current mood:  annoyed 

 

..plus size...my least favorite words these days. that and anything followed by an X or the word "woman's size" on it. oh yeah. the dreaded fat chick clothes and the lack of anything remotely stylish on store shelves. it is the quest of all round ladies like myself. something cute in a big size. practically impossible!!!

as i've written in the past, i was a thin girl...operative word being was. in fact i was generally too thin as a teen and young adult. i didn't go over the 98lb. mark until i was 18. i'm practically 5ft. 5in. tall so you do the math. i was a twig and not in a good way! don't get me wrong. it wasn't because of thin genes and it wasn't for lack of trying to be thin. i hated my body, still do, and i was accutely aware of my body image issues at a very young age. but up until the time i hit 25, i was thin.

but those days are long gone and now i find myself having to shop for clothes that are made for woman who are beyond the misses sizes. and let me tell you something. i'm no fashionista but some of the shit they try to pawn off to larger women is horrendous. it's a slap in the face. as if to say that because a woman is larger than an XL that she should be forced to wear baggy shirts, elastic waist pants and "comfortable shoes". does the ensemble come with a matching walker and fanny pack too?

i'm a 37 year old woman who has more cushin for the pushin (always thought that was a funny phrase) but i am anything but frumpy. fat, for the time being, yes. frumpy, no fucking way! i have a kick ass set of tits that put most women to shame. it's both a blessing because men love them and a curse because i fucking hate them. i even went so far as having a breast reduction at the age of 23 and trust me, it was needed. now that i'm chunky, the bitches are back and i hate them but they really are kick ass. anywhoo, i have an ass, i have a waist...somewhere under this chunk...and i am a sexual being. i may not have a flat stomach but i'm not some retiree going on a trip to boca. 

i want to spend my money on clothes that make me feel content, confident, pretty, sexy and just downright "normal". why is it that in our society if you are anything bigger than an XL that you are forced to shop a slim, unattractive selection of garments? and why do i have to go to a store that only sells "plus" sizes? as if it's some kind of disease so it's best not to mix them with the other sizes? seriously. and i wonder why women who are heavy are less social, less confident, less accepted. clothiers make us look and feel like we are less important than a mainstream size 10.

well guess what? i'm not a mainstream size 10. i'm a mainstream plus size. yes, i'm fat. yes, i need to do something about it. yes, i'm working on losing it and want desperately to get back to a healthy body weight. notice i didn't say skinny because frankly, i just want to get healthy. but right now i am overweight. and right now i need some new clothes that don't make me look like i'm going to live in a nursing home. i want to buy something a step up from clamdiggers and frumpy dresses. so give me something with a little kick. a little shape. and a whole lot of sex appeal.

because whether i am a chunky monkey or skinny minnie, i am nobody's wallflower and i deserve to look good!

march 26th...flaming dog shit at my door

flaming dog shit at my door!!!!
Current mood:  exhausted

..this is fucking hard.

it's just that simple. this is a fucking hard way to live.

i don't get a break. i know, i know. woe is me...blah, blah, blah. get a life you pathetic piece of shit! but i really don't feel sorry for myself. it's just that these past few weeks have been brutal. i'm just so damned tired. ready for my bitchfest? thought you'd never ask!

i'm a full time mom, full time daughter, full time student, running my own business with my photography which means working weekends, currently venturing into painting murals as well....because i just don't have enough on my plate...part time preschool teacher, part time girlfriend (big happy smiles!) and the entire time i am fighting the evil dragon.

hell, even the strongest people i know would have a tough time dealing with the sheer volume of bullshit that is flung my way on a daily basis. i feel like a bunch of teenagers are pranking me with the flaming bag of dog shit on my front porch. and i stomp it out eagerly. there go another pair of flip flops!
between the texts and the phone calls and the missed appointments and the rescheduling of shit i've missed because i'm too bogged down. then there is the dragon himself and his knack for creating drama where it is not needed. serious drama too. he's such a prick....pffft.....it's enough to drive you absolutely batty sometimes.

but goddamn if i don't feel good about it. this is the hardest and easiest thing i've ever done and today i am keeping myself in check. i am remembering just how miserable i was being in a dead end life. a life with no escape with the exception of the one i made. and now that i'm free, i'm realizing how much i love my decision to dump those concrete shoes. my life is no longer heavy, despite the additional baggage. i'll gladly carry this load.

i'm reminded of something that i read one time. not sure of the author (although my guess is arthur miller but don't quote me on it) about finding out that there is something better out there. once you pick that apple from the tree, you can't stick it back on. once we have found a new way of living there is no way to go back to the old. something about opening that part of yourself, the real part of you, there's no closing it. and that's a good thing.

i will keep reminding myself of that. but right now it really is so fucking hard to keep going. i know it won't always be but right here, right now, i'm looking forward to getting on with things.

this is fucking hard. there. bitchfest complete and on with life. i feel better. do you?

*******
okay. i'm just gonna look the fucking thing up so i can do the author justice. otherwise it will be stuck in my brain and i'll be kicking myself all night for screwing it up. and i was right about arthur miller. damn, i'm good!

*******

“The apple cannot be stuck back on the Tree of Knowledge; once we begin to see, we are doomed and challenged to seek the strength to see more, not less.” - Arthur Miller

march 21st...the human connection

the human connection
Current mood:  impressed 

 

....i have a friend. i know, shocking! i have many acquaintances. one might say that i know or know of far too many people. that's what happens when you grown up in a big small town. ninety percent of the people i know have lived here during childhood and return as adults to settle in and raise families. suppose the taste of real life outside of these southern walls isn't for everyone. but as far as friendships are concerned, the real ones are few and far between. the people that i do share my life with i keep very close. there is a common respect and trust between us that astounds me sometimes. we share everything and it's a comfortable place.

but this one friend in particular is very different. there's a veil of mystery. a shroud he carries around his shoulders. a young man in the grand scheme of things that has lived a life full yet incredibly alone. i pick up bits and pieces as i go along. sometimes it's a story about a dark period in his life. a time when no one could stop him from his self destructive habits. and he didn't want them to stop him either. then there are times i hear a joy in his voice that resonates. that true untapped innocent joy. occasionally there is a very boyish charm and sparkle of mischief that comes over him during story telling. it's as if he had forgotten the details of the story until right at that moment, that i'm the first person who has ever listened.

it had me thinking that perhaps i was the first person who ever listened to these experiences, to these tales of childhood heartache to desperation to hope. could it be that this magnificent, genuine human being has never felt close enough to anyone outside of himself to open up and just be? and i'm not talking about the stories themselves. i have an inkling that they have been spoken of before with other friends but the underlying feeling he displays with me is raw. all of this untapped raw energy just waiting for someone to hear it. but has anyone ever really tried to listen?

could i be that person? could i be that one friend who dares to listen. he doesn't scare me. sometimes his tales of personal demons frighten me a bit but not because of subject matter. they scare me because i think of him alone with these things. alone with these invasive thoughts for so long. alone with these feelings of want. no one should have to endure it alone. certainly not this kind of man. in the same respect i have opened myself to him and told him things i reserve for myself, for fear of frightening people with the real story, not just the magnificent tales, but the reality of painful memories. it's as if i have become an open book because he is an open book.

what i see is so much deeper than the conversations. i see the pain. i see the want. i see the need. i see the curiosity. i see the struggle. but mostly, aside from all of it, i see the perseverance, strength, passion, humor of a man whose life is bigger than i can imagine for myself. i see the potential in a man that is simple and sincere but doubt that anyone has ever seen him as such. it's a shame really. i think of all the people that disregard him based on what they think he might be. they lose sight of what's underneath it all. and what's underneath is breathtaking. 

instead i count my blessings and am thankful that i have the honest comradeship of such a noble person in my life. that i have a friendship that extends far beyond what i get from it but instead represents what i think it's really all about. the connection. the human connection that electrifies you and reminds you that you are alive. indeed i am reminded today that i am alive and my life is full because of him.

march 13th...i'm ready for my straightjacket, please

i'm ready for my straightjacket please
Current mood:  cooky/wacky

................

I had the displeasure of confrontation yesterday. Confrontation, drama, theatrics…they just don’t suit my personality. I don’t have time for that shit and won’t make time for that shit. I’m a high energy, have a good time personality. I avoid confrontation, don’t like it, never have but it is unavoidable sometimes, especially during a divorce like mine. Satan is laughing his ass off right now at the debacle that has become my divorce! Shiny red bastard. ....

Yesterday I was insulted and demeaned in front of my five year old son. Fucktard stooped to a new low, even for him. I have come to expect the worst case scenario from Fucktard and once again, he did not disappoint. He called me crazy. He didn’t mean in the zany off the wall sort of way. I generally get that but crazy in the mental institution way, well, not so much. He even went so far as to say that I was bat-shit crazy. He made gestures. He called names. He told me I was certifiably insane and that he hoped I would get help so I could get a grip on reality. All in front of a five year old. Nice form fucktard. Nice form.....

Now I’m no common girl. I have depth. I have character. I have strong opinions. I’m no shrinking violet. I most certainly don’t fit into the cookie cutter shape of a PTA mom. I make mistakes just like anyone. But crazy in a straight jacket sense? Never been called that before. So how do you define crazy? You know how the rest of this goes so without further ado, Miriam-Webster to the rescue once again:....

Main Entry: ¹cra·zy ....

Pronunciation: ..ˈkrā-zē......

Function: adjective ....

1 a : full of cracks or flaws : b : crooked, askew 2 a : mad, insane b (1) : impractical  (2) : erratic c : being out of the ordinary : unusual 3 a : distracted with desire or excitement b : absurdly fond : infatuated c : passionately preoccupied : obsessed ....

Let’s see here. I am most definitely full of cracks and flaws. My personality can be askew but is never hurtfully so, at least not purposely. I can be insane when it’s called for and I’m always impractical. Practicality is far overrated. Erratic…check. Out of the ordinary…double check. I’m unusual and proud of it. Distracted and full of desire, absurdly fond and infatuated….with a certain someone’s cock, yes, yes I am. Passionately preoccupied or obsessed. Abso-fucking-lutely. ....

Looks like I am crazy after all. And you want to know something else? I’m fucking proud of it. I’m not your goddamn Pollyanna. I’m not your girl Friday who shits out rainbows and sunshine. I’m not a sugar coated ball of positivity. I’m a human being who is living her life fully and openly. Finally. My mother told me last night in a wonderful email that it was time for a re-birth and to get rid of the albatross that is fucktard. Incredible example of a woman and I couldn’t agree more. ....

 And I’m a damn fine mother. I have my moments but don’t we all? But crazy to the point that I’m not a good mom or I’m an unfit mother? That’s the biggest bunch of bullshit I’ve ever heard. My kids love and respect me for my silly spirit.  They love me just the way I am and don’t want me to change. We are all better off away from fucktard and his restrictions. We enjoy our time together and I am anything but a bad mom. Period. ....

Call me crazy if you like. I will take it as a compliment. I am all of the things he has said and then some but a bad mom or someone who needs to get a grip on reality? I’ve got some reality right here for you, you fucking piece of shit. It’s in the form of my boot right up your ass. I like myself a little crazy, a little wacky, a little zany. And I certainly like being away from someone who doesn’t appreciate that part of me. I’m fun that way and I like it. In fact, he seems to be the only one who doesn’t.....

march 3rd....sleeping with the enemy

sleeping with the enemy
Current mood:defiant

..

Fucktard: A narrow minded, egotistical, pencil dick, stupid and dimwitted fucking bastard that's both a Fuck and a Tard simultaneously.

I have been using it as my moniker for Mark for quite some time now but today I feel like it needs some permanence. Hence, I will no longer consider him Mark. He is simply fucktard. I am still fond of my mother’s nickname of “sperm donor” but it just lacks that oomph.

So a brief recap is in order. One, because I can never remember shit and two, because I just feel like it. I leave mark, he solidifies his status as fucktard by constantly giving me grief and being an ass unlike any other, then he files divorce papers, I file a response back asking for what is rightly mine, he refuses to give me any money for alimony or child support, I get my feelings hurt, he finally pays my rent this month and leaves me with $130 additional for "other expenses" (how generous).....wait, back up. I got my feelings hurt? What the fuck?

Getting your feelings hurt by someone who you expect to hurt you is preposterous. Did I expect him to walk gingerly and treat me with care or dignity? He’s never done it before so why would he start now? Was he just supposed to wake up one morning after 14 years and decide "today is the day I won't be a fucktard anymore". Hell no. so why is it that I am hurt when he acts like such a fucktard? Good question. And like all good questions, not one that I will let lie until I get to the bottom.

For fourteen years I have endured fucktards lack of support, his constant negative attitude about life in general, his strict rules regarding the way I conduct myself. I have dealt with him belittling me, discounting me, ignoring even my basic sexual needs. He even went a year and a half without having sex with me. I was pregnant for 8 out of those 18 months but the other 10 were spent wondering what might be wrong with me, why he didn't want me, why he wouldn't even try to fulfill my sexual desire. Not even one passionate kiss in a year and a half.

But time and time again I kept right on rolling along. All the while thinking that I was the inadequate component to our marriage. That I was the one with the hang-ups. That I was the one who was sure to lose her mind any day. I was convinced that I had a serious emotional disorder, that I couldn’t care for myself let alone care for my kids and that I needed to change each and every last thing about me.

I think the reason(s) that it hurts to see him act like a fucktard are simple. It’s not because I expect anything different from him. It’s because I came to expect that this was just how my life was going to remain. Not only is he the father of my children but he is the man I committed to spending the rest of my life with almost 12 years ago. Talk about having egg on my face. I feel like a fool. I feel betrayed by his egotistical, self righteous, narcissistic attitude and his all around disrespect for me. He has never once complimented me, told me he loved me with feeling, reassured me that I had nothing to worry about. Granted, I don’t need someone to tell me these things to feel important. But if you are going to be with someone for the rest of your life it would be nice to be told that you are loved. Basic human needs.

The thing that hit me when talking to many friends over the last few weeks and something switch said in particular is that he never loved me to begin. He never loved me. He never knew me enough to love me. He wanted to mold me into an emotionless woman who could be tamed to his liking. He didn’t want me to yearn for sex because he couldn’t perform like a typical man. Hell, he couldn’t even perform the act. I can say without a shadow of a doubt that we had sex less than 20 times in a 14 year span. And never, ever oral sex (which is a personal favorite). And I went that entire time without one single orgasm except at my own hand…no pun intended. He didn’t want me to work because then he wouldn’t have control to make me feel like less. He didn’t want me to feel beautiful because then I would realize how ugly he was on the inside. It was always about him. It was never me. I was an inconvenience. I was disrespected and taught to hate myself.

He didn’t turn into the enemy overnight. He has always been the enemy. I slept with the enemy for 14 years. 14 years of my life I wanted nothing more than the man next to me to be my protector and all the while he was the one trying to hurt me. And he did. That stops here. This open letter to fucktard is the end. I am none of the things he made me become. That girl is long gone. She found her dignity, her self-respect, her confidence, her happy place and the love of a man who is more than worthy…by the way; I am still madly in love with switch. Good lord he is my saving grace!

I will not pen another blog or speak his name. I will no longer discuss the way I feel about fucktard or how he has hurt me. He is the enemy and enemies have no place in my life anymore. I have wasted the last 14 years of my life on him and I won’t waste anymore.

Besides, I have better shit to do with my time. Like reclaim my life and my independence, all the while loving my kids, enjoying my life, regaining my confidence and zeal for life, getting fucked by a man that can handle the job more than adequately, loves me without question, stirs my soul, can rebuild my engine (both figuratively and literally) and can design me one hell of a house.

Life is sweet!