Smartasses and Dumbasses make good bookends
For giants.With delicious senses of irony.
Last night I dreamed of a foggy wharf, in a distant harbor.
There was sadness in every drop of damp air.
I could hear the waves lapping against the pilings,
and the muffled clanging of bell bouys.
But then I was on my street (with no name, high on this desert plain...)
(ok, MY street has a name, but most of the streets here do not.)
ahem.
I was on my street and I could sense You there, wandering through my neighborhood, but never intercepting me;
I don't think you even knew you were Here.
You were looking for something unimportant--
just walking innocently, unaware, mere breaths away from me.
And the Me in the dream was unaware of You;
just the silent sleeper Me saw the proximity and,
watching the scene unfold,
stopped breathing long enough to wake.
Had a crackin' work out at the gym, though.
I have been sleep-exercising, I think.
Sort of yawning through my workouts, not pushing myself
at
ALL.
So today I pushed a bit.
Not tooooo hard...
wouldn't want to pull a muscle or anything.
Heh.
But I feel invigorated, so that counts for something.
I am already ready (already) to take my kids back to the southeast part of this red rockin' state.
That red dirt...oh, mama, that red dirt makes me want to run naked and sing for the rain to pour down--
how I would look, splattered in red mud!
How I would FEEL with my toes in the warm earth, cooling with each drop of warm rain.
For rain is never as warm as earth, even warm rain.
The smell of rain in that desert--!
Oh!
I am swooning, truly.
And...unable to spell.
swonn? trooly? Those are the spellings which first tumbled out, only to be backspaced and replaced in half a heart beat.
But still.
What kind of bragging can I do if my fingers can't make the words look right???
Maybe I just need a shower.
And some lunch.
And to make about a jillion phone calls.
Also...
I have realized that I feel like a different person completely.
Almost as if I've been drugged, my brain chemistry altered.
It has been creeping over me for months now.
Probably just a side effect of my decision not to feel certain things, or think certain things.
I have given my own personality a lobotomy, but that's a'ight.
It was in need of a severe surgical intervention.
As is my general gut region, but that's a different story.
Hee...
Speaking of which, I never really knew how hard it is for doctors to get fake boobs to look real.
Out of the 5 doctors I investigated (for previously mentioned gut purposes) there was only one whose work didn't look like balls had been slid clumsily under skin.
I just don't get it.
But then, even before I as a fatty McFatterton, I didn't have an issue in that regard.
But more than half of the women with fakies were no smaller than I was before I had kids and gained a cup size.
So we're talking full B/full C women with slender builds going bigger.
I guess I just don't get it.
There is psychology behind it, I'm sure.
They have a sister with huge knockers or were teased for being "flat" when they were younger or they watch too much pr0n.
Me?
I'm a woman, so I'll always complain about SOMETHING on my body, but before carrying twins turned my gut region into the repulsive thing that it is, I would have NEVER
EVER
IN A MILLION FUCKING YEARS
considered surgery.
Even a nose job--and I spent years as an adolescent LOATHING my profile.
Gah.
Being perfect is unattainable. Period.
No one is perfect--
but that has been said so many times it is like overchewed gum, and has lost its flavor.
Say it again.
But feel it--
No One is perfect.
(except for maybe You, and that's just MY opinion...)
Seriously.
Think of the person you know in real life who you most secretly desire to look more like, or who you consider to be "perfect."
If you asked that person to name their flaws, they would have a list as long as the rest of us.
It's human nature to want to be the Best or Most-Whatever, but it's nice to stop and realize there is no answer to this riddle and that everyone has flaws.
Now it sounds like I'm trying to say I'm better than those who choose surgery for different reasons than I am, and I guess at the end of the day we're all choosing it to feel better about our bodies, so I'm no different.
I am fighting with myself right now over loving my body the way it is.
I achieved that wonderful state of mind for a while, but this rampant weight gain lately is playing all sorts of tricks on my common sense.
I still love my body, I just hate(d) what I've done to it.
The hate is dissipating, though.
I have realized some things about myself, and about my reasons for eating so strangely over the past 6 months.
I am breathing again, and letting go of the hate because I have pried loose the grasp of guilt and flicked that nasty beast out of my life.
I am me.
And I am smart, funny, kind, sexy, and passionate.
So there.
Speaking of THERAPY....
I better go shower so I'm not late for my ACTUAL therapy appointment.
Not that there's anything left to say--
thanks for listening, guys!!
Your checks are in the mail. |
posted by Bored Housewife at
8:35 AM
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