“Accidentally on purpose…”

the attention just encourages her..

Month: March, 2015

this is a different morning and i’ve thrown away the tickets, don’t bother to pay the fines

my best friend is very wise.

i’ve been feeling like most of my relationships are very one-sided. realizing this has made me hesitant to be the friend i’ve been. i’m not playing a game, or being passive-aggressive. i’ve still reached out but have been blatantly ignored or just forgotten about mid-conversation.

as i said my best friend is very wise.

“you don’t owe anyone a good mood” or something similar.

it is a lonely place here but i really need to learn to put myself first for a change.

(joke if you like, i know i’m a spoiled selfish brat, despite that i still care and worry and reach out to check on people who clearly don’t give a fuck about the work i put into this facade of “being OK”)

i don’t owe any of you anything. not ANY OF YOU. 30+ years of guilt and putting your feelings before my own needs and pretending I’m OK so you don’t have to console me or worry about me is quite enough.

i hate how mean this sounds. it isn’t meant that way.

i just feel like i have been given permission to protect myself.

i text, message, call….to make sure you are OK and to be sure you know you aren’t forgotten and you are thought of and cared for. you politely ask how i am, you always do, all of you and i lie. LIE. i say things like “i can’t complain” but i can and those of you who have cared enough to really fucking care to ask for real, well you either know what is bothering me or i protect you and i LIE.

i’m not saying any of this to make anyone feel bad. i am not blaming any of you for anything i have to be bothered by or upset about. i just need to start protecting me instead of you, the world at large. i’ve gotten so good at protecting all of you that even when i am alone i stop myself crying and bottle it all up some more and maybe the bottles are all used up and i’ve run out of new ones to fill.

i told myself to be patient

i told myself to be fine

i told myself to be blanced

i told myself to be kind


why can’t i be the mistress and the wife?

i was just gonna have a bagel.

or oatmeal.

i’m so impatient with this weight loss thing. generally i can drop weight faster and easier than most people, i mean i have to do the work but if i stick to it, it pays off. oddly this makes me even more impatient. i’m sure this superpower of mine is weakened by age.

i had a modest breakfast when out with the daughter yesterday but i should have just had the bagel.

or the oatmeal.

i was wearing goodwill jeans at least 3 sizes too big just to wear something that wasn’t too tight on my huge fucking thighs. i wore a baggy sweater, barely any make up. this has become a trend. maybe because i feel like i don’t need to try very hard to be cute with this awesome hair i have.

partly because i have been dressing how i feel.

gross. lazy. huge.

i wasn’t able to do any waist training yet this week. i was ill randomly for several days. seems my body doesn’t like the Vit D i was taking or the coconut oil i was putting in my coffee. i will waist train today. even if the only place i go is a grocery store in rednecktropolis. i don’t care about the looks but what a waste of the cute outfit i’ll be wearing.

i hate the way i look but i feel so much lighter and healthier. even with what i ate yesterday. i’m doing a workout program that is realistic, otherwise i will go crazy and drop a ton of weight too fast then hurt myself or just get tired. then gain even more back and have to start all over.

i’m so fucking obsessed but my damn crazy makes routine a serious struggle. when your mood regularly changes from hour to hour or minute to minute…forcing yourself to stick to a routine can be torture or bliss. the torture comes with the guilt of failure, the bliss with accomplishment of goals.

i had to ask my husband if i was pretty. i couldn’t remember the last time he paid me a compliment. doesn’t mean it had been a long time, i just couldn’t remember.

when you are as vain as i am and equally disgusted by your reflection at the same time as i am, well you need A LOT of reassurance. sometimes i get it in abundance from friends, male and female alike, other times i forget i am even capable of being anything but gross and fat.

it seems like i rarely look good, whether i try or not. but the husband says i am always beautiful.

i sometimes want to say to him “pretend I have amnesia and am certain I have never heard you say anything like that ever” because that is how it feels. i know he’s said it but i feel like it’s been years since he said i even looked cute. once a month is not nearly enough. neither is once a week. when the only compliment you get is an erection at the sight of you naked you start to feel like you only look good enough to fuck.

i’ve always been good enough to fuck.

there is nothing pretty there.

like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky

not even noon and my mood is shakier than usual.

i am feeling good physically. i have that nice light feeling i get when i take care of myself and lose weight. i like feeling this way. i know they are still too small but i ‘feel’ like i will fit my cute skinny clothes very soon. i am getting through a weekend without totally derailing all my efforts and will weigh and measure again on Tuesday to see where i am really at.

i’m struggling with some things. i feel fairly unwanted at times. like i make more of an effort to “friend” than the people i am friending and care for. i miss so many people and feel very much like sometimes it isn’t just people being busy. i often feel i am not worth making time for.

i also wish that i wasn’t so tired at night or that when i’m not i could feel like i am allowed to stay up and finish things i am doing. i have started writing and whenever i want to get to that i am unable to for some reason involving people and things around me dictating how i live.

i’m frustrated.

i’m content.

i’m over whelmed and under whelmed sometimes at once.

i love my hair but i wish i didn’t have to work so hard on having nice skin. i should be using my steamer daily and my wax bath at least once or twice a week. i’m not though.

my moods, oh they keep me off balance. i forget i need and want to do things and i just get so caught up trying to figure out what i need to do that i end up doing so many other things or nothing by wasting time online. i have all this free time then never get to do the things i say i will or want to do. things come up because i let them i think. i let life happen to me whether i like it or not and i should be just living, not coasting along obsessed with harmony and doing what the universe wants.

i really want my back piece finished. i get very anxious when i try to figure out how i will pay for it and it isn’t even that much money. it is more than i can afford but only because of my fixed income and need for snobby coffee dates at least once a month. just trying to figure how to come up with this money…i’m giving up my snobby coffee until i get this ink done. i have spent years figuring out how to fix it, i can’t handle it taking years to save up to actually get it done.

i’m so obsessive.

at least my hair looks great and even though i decided i would like to switch up and sometimes have all silver dreads with my black hair, i don’t feel like i have to buy what i need now now now.

these are my ramblings. does anyone even care?

i’m allowed to feel sorry for myself at least once a year, right? well that would be today, i’ll mark the calendar and be sure not to have another self pity day until next year.

i kept writing

maybe i don’t need to write this blog because 38 isn’t some all important milestone birthday. maybe i don’t give a fuck. last year was the start of something for me. it still took some time but it started. i willingly celebrated my birthday with almost zero guilt for having existed in the first place let alone 37 years.

sure, i have generally been a happy person and liked to have fun. truthfully though, i spent most of my life not really living. shrouded in guilt and regrets and dwelling on every mistake. sometimes i thought my biggest failure was not being capable of ending my own life. i almost succeeded in 1994. March 14th to be exact. i have worn that date on my soul like a badge of true failure for 20 years.

sometime in the last year i was able to let if fall off like a lost hat. i don’t know when it happened i just know at some point i became aware of it. i was happy. it was real, not just a brief moment of bliss like seeing my baby girl for the first time. i wasn’t faking anything anymore. i am just happy. is my life perfect and without struggle, worry or sadness? far from it. i am just happy to exist in every moment now. i still have a long way to go, sometimes i fall and maybe that will never end and that is okay because i am happy. i don’t want to be dead and gone and free from this life anymore. probably because this life is a dream i never let myself dream. i can’t count my blessings anymore because it would take too long and i have life to be living.

it is far from perfect. i still make mistakes. i still worry that my friends don’t want to be around me but it helps that i know for sure at least a couple of them really do, they just happen to live far away and very far away. i still miss the random invites to shows or just coffee. i miss people just stopping by because they were “in the neighborhood” or whatever. sometimes i think i should stop trying so hard to be actively social with people. i worry i am a nuisance and always forcing people to make excuses to avoid me. i won’t stop though because i’m not that kind of friend. i want to see people and talk and be a part of the lives i care about. i want people to know that i think and worry about them even if i know when i check on them they won’t need anything from me. it is true though, if someone really wants to be part of your life, they will try to be. so that is why i worry that people don’t want me around. i will keep reaching out anyway.

i worry about my daughter a lot. i try not to blame myself for the troubles she has. she doesn’t blame me so why should i? i have been there for her the very best that i can whenever life just fucking knocks her down for no reason. i love her strength even though she won’t allow herself to truly relax just yet. the fact that she is afraid to hope for good things because she has so often been let down in the worst way makes me so sad and worried for her. things are looking up for her but i still worry oh so much. i never want her to feel the way i did all those years ago before she came into my life, the deep, deep melancholy that makes living seem just too much to bear. i know she feels this at times and fights it and i hope she keeps being able to fight it because losing her is the only thing that truly terrifies me. much like seeing her happy is the best feeling in the world for me. nothing makes me happy to be alive as much as her smile. especially when i know that it is true and real.

those are my worries and fears. the rest is a blessing that i try my best to appreciate as much as possible.

my crazy is a struggle and my battle with my appearance is a struggle but those things have always been there and always will be and i just have to learn to truly accept some things and keep working at the walls i build around me. i can’t get rid of what i hide so it must be hidden to protect the ones i love.

so if my life is a sentence in the story i am writing then the sentence almost ended on March 14, 1994 but instead of a period on that day, there is a semi colon. i kept writing. some chapters are missing, so to speak, and some pages are dog eared from dwelling too long on bad memories but i kept writing.


i’m looking forward to my birthday. i intend to enjoy it with the zeal and lust for life that has been lacking completely every birthday before this one. yes, i am going to revel in being the center of attention like a fucking princess or some shit. i will shamelessly sing karaoke and dance my ass off at my totally awesome 80’s themed birthday party. i will make sure there are photos of me having the best fucking time ever. yep.

’cause i kept writing and will keep writing.

no thank you

if you know me very well you may still not know how unhealthy my relationship with food is. i used to think i was an open book and i just realized that i may be but i’ve torn out a lot of pages out since trying so hard to put up the facade of not having mood swings every five minutes. i used to just be me and only hide the very dark when i really had to. in a matter of moments i suddenly wonder if anyone really knows me at all. do i?

food is and always has been my enemy. to the point that the thought of eating will sicken me. then i will eat a whole box of girl scout cookies and actually feel sick in my cookie coma. with a healthy dose of eater’s remorse. after only a week before my knee and being sick, i had gotten rid of my gut for the most part. i was even keeping my weight off through the knee pain and the sick but then the sick started to get better and i guess my body wanted food and my brain was too overworked to fight it.

i sometimes think i have an eating disorder but i don’t starve myself or purge myself so i wouldn’t know what to call it. i know i feel healthier, lighter and happier the less i eat whether by willpower or just not being hungry. i can stay away from junk food but some things make it hard. i truly prefer healthy food. fresh fruit, veggies, salad or sometimes all i really want is a PB&J to kill the hunger and go about my life with just what i needed and not 2 helpings of whatever awesome food my husband makes. see i like a lot of foods but i’ve come to a point where the reward is too short lived and i just feel sick and disgusting. i don’t know how to fix any of this without my husband having to change some aspect of his eating habits. whether it be eating alone or me deciding what we eat which he would tire of because i’ve lived on coffee and saltines before just because nothing else was worth the trouble. i wouldn’t do that now but i could easily eat baked chicken or steak and veggies with no starch preferably, for weeks on end and be happy with apples, bananas and my frozen fruit deserts i’ve been having the rest of the time. i would only drink my waters, infused, vitamin and sparkling and be perfectly content.

but then

i love Vernors and when i am sick or plan on a night of drinking we have it on hand and my water gets all but forgotten. i get sooooo bored watching TV in the evenings that i start snacking my way through whatever sounds good but might not be horrible for me or you know, a whole box of tagalongs. i keep telling myself it is this weather. it is making me sluggish and tired. i keep wanting the days to just end until the nicer weather arrives. i want to walk the dogs and go DO THINGS.

most of all. i wish the bad foods were just not here and no one was judging my not eating. if i were 300 lbs i’d get looks every time i ate a cookie or maybe anything not super healthy and well, i should hope so. i should be allowed to not eat whenever i feel like not eating. i don’t feel i have that freedom of choice though and my anger at my weight is starting feel shared between myself and those judging me, compelling me to eat, eat, eat.

there is this horrible trend going on with women lately. no one wants to let anyone feel fat and let them do what they know they need to do to not feel that way. heaven forbid you weigh 20 lbs less than another girl and say you feel fat. it is the worst competition ever. no one wins. never will there come a day that all women will be happy with their bodies. this is reality. i bet even when i was 60lbs lighter i was upset that i had lost my curves but too thrilled to be wearing a size 7 to let myself gain some weight. we all have an ideal in our minds and that is likely all that will make most of us happy. we may say, “oh, if I could just fit into that dress I’d be happy” but we’d be a big fat liar. i will finally fit into all my cute size 9 pants and then i will wish i had some room in them because just fitting isn’t enough at that point i’m sure. this doesn’t mean no woman will ever be happy but it certainly won’t happen for those of us being judged for not putting enough food on our plate. yes dear, yes family, yes friends, i love your cooking, no i don’t want to eat until i’m sick.

the worst part is, this judging…we only have to hear it once and it sticks as if it happens every time we fill or don’t fill our plate. maybe people saw it hurt or heard as much and never said another word. we still hear it. though my husband does feel the need to explain why he is using the bigger plates for some things because i pitched enough fits about how i only want to use the smaller ones because he heaps tons of food even on those. it is wonderful that he loves me no matter what i weigh but more importantly i need to love me and i can’t when being seen naked makes me uncomfortable.

i’m done.

i’m fixing this. i’m about to be 38 years old and it is ridiculous that i eat when i’m not hungry, get put on the spot to decide where to eat at the last minute over and over until i pick the right one. its not my fault that i don’t need as much variety as other people. i’m tired of eating food i don’t really really want to eat. i’m tired of feeling sick because of the pressure to eat more and not eat so slowly. sure, some of this is in my head, also, i have only so much to go on when i’m left with just snide comments and rolled eyes. between that and my crazy….i’m well fucked.

i’m allowed to make myself happy.

i’m allowed to say “i’m not hungry”

i’m allowed to not know out of the blue what i want to eat or even after thinking about it all day before grocery shopping.

i am also allowed to be bitter and upset about this.