Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Hairy Bitch

The hair, it's getting out of control. Well, not really. I love it.

In case you didn't know, I chopped it all off, and dyed it pink, when I asked Douche for a divorce. I kept it short for a while after that. Took me two years to grow it out, but it's more than halfway down my back now, and I couldn't be happier.

Noooot the best picture of me, but it does show my hair. It's 4 colors in that photo, blonde, pink, red and black. Light to dark, it looked really cool.  I'm back to just red on top and black underneath now. I would post a picture if I had one, but I don't and I'm too lazy to take one.

Friday, August 1, 2014

Talk Me Down

I was fuming about the text messages. I tried to wait it out, but the more time went by, the madder I got.  So I wrote a letter, quite poetic if you ask me, to "the girlfriend".  I sat on it a couple of days, you know, in case I just needed to get it out. When I still didn't feel any better, I sent it.

July 25, 2014

Dear New girlfriend,

I'm addressing this to you, because I know you'll see it. And for the record, I was content in leaving well enough alone, until you decided to open old wounds. It was rude and spiteful. I'm dealing with my pain in my own way. It's not for you to try and poke a stick at.

It struck me as odd that you would text me. I've never met you in any form or fashion. I wondered how you would have gotten my number. I figured you got it from an email I sent to Bam. I could see him allowing you to read them. Open honest communication is an important part of any relationship. But if you did it without his knowledge...

I can't fathom Bam had anything to do with you texting me. I'd be shocked if he did. I like to think I knew him pretty well. He was never one to invite drama into his life. He likes things pretty peaceful. I don't see him wanting to bring a cat fight to his door.

And that is what those texts were designed to do. You were trying to goad me into a fight. Why else would you text me so out of the blue, knowing I hadn't contacted him in two months? Trust that I ain't that girl. If you want to get down and dirty with me, put on your big girl pants and do it face to face. Until then, you aren't even a blip on my radar.

What I don't understand is why. Is it that you like drama so you create it? Or are you feeling insecure about your relationship and lashed out at an easy target? Maybe you were fishing to see if he's contacted me back? If that was the case, the answer is no, he never contacted me back.

It would have been wise for you to leave me alone. But since we're already past the point of no return, I'll give you this advice; Don't tempt the fates. Resist the urge to let strife and angst into your relationship. If you want to keep the man you so eagerly claim, don't make waves. I know he's not coming back to me. I knew that months ago. But he's not going to tolerate too much bullshit, so tread carefully. And for God sake, leave me out of it. You don't know me. But think about the greatest love story you've ever heard of. What length might a person go to if fueled by that sort of love?

Dear (Bam)

I'm sorry to drop this drama in your inbox. I had to say my piece. You know I'm not one to hold my tongue, especially when I'm pressed. And it was just too much to text her.

As for you and I... I'm happy if you are happy. If you've found what you are looking for in your current girlfriend then I congratulate you. I never wanted anything more than for you to have a joyous life. I truly hope your heart has healed and you can or have found love. You deserve it. I still miss you. I will always love you. But I'm content in leaving well enough alone, if you are fulfilled.

Best wishes to you both.


And... The most amazing thing has happened... I laid it to rest. Thank you Jesus!!!

Monday, July 28, 2014

Love The Pain

If you didn't know, I used to weight 170 lbs. Yeah, don't ask. I'm 5'2" on a good day. There was no good reason to justify being that heavy.

I lost all of that weight VERY quickly, and have managed to keep it off for the most part.

I go through phases of working out intensely and then slacking off a bit. If there are no boys around to distract me with morning sex, I'm excellent about keeping a routine.  I do 45 mins of cardio/core training in the morning 5 days a week, at least. This is what I work out to usually.

About 4 weeks ago, I added a changed diet to my "healthy" lifestyle.
After I "workout" I eat a healthy breakfast. This is new for me as of the last couple months. I used to not eat anything until lunch time. But now I eat yogurt with banana and granola in it. Or cottage cheese with whole wheat toast.
For lunch it's protein or fiber bar with yogurt or fruit. Or a huge salad from the market. If I feel hungry, I eat something that's good for me. And of course I drink tons of water. I've always done that though. I noticed right away when I started changing my diet that I had more energy. I wasn't ready to throw in the towel after lunch. I don't nap in the middle of the day... usually.

In the evening, if it's not 100 degrees or pouring down rain, I walk. 1.5 miles. This only takes me 15 mins, but I break a sweat and burn off some energy. Gives me a few minutes without distraction to think, breathe and move.

And here's the thing, I don't do these things to look good. I have no intention of being a hard body again. I'm happy with the combination of soft and strong that I am now. I exercise and eat right so that I can splurge without guilt. I like bloody rare steak. I like chocolate cake. I like beer. And I partake in these things, within reason, and don't think twice about it.

During the holidays when I bake enough cookies to fatten up the U.S. Army, I gain a couple pounds. Every batch must be sampled damn it. And... every time I walk past the table where they are cooling, one jumps in my mouth, despite my protest. It's ok, I love cookies. I'm well aware this trend won't stop. Don't care.

Last summer I got down to 125. A very lean 125. It didn't look good on me. People were telling me I was too skinny. My ribs were sticking out. My ideal weight is now 135. But I confess, I don't step on a scale often. I don't think that number is important. How I feel, how my clothes fit... those are the things that count.

Now... aside from the extra energy and generally feeling good, I'm addicted to the pain. When I take it up a notch. When I change it up a bit. When I push it just a little more. That feeling you get when you work hard. Mine comes 2 days later and I know it's good. The tenderness, the sore feeling you get in your muscles when they are growing.

I told myself when I got back into my routine this spring I wasn't going to build muscle. I used to shadow box with weights. But when my arms started looking like a guys arms, I stopped the weights. I don't want to be a hard body. I think it's good to be strong AND have the softness of a female. But the burn, the stretch, the pain feels good to me.

Saturday, July 26, 2014

Where Did The Funny Go

I used to be quick witted. I used to be a smart ass. I used to be cool, loved, stylish.... relevant. I used to be FUNNY.

I'm not really sure what happened to that. I'm wondering when I stopped trying to be witty and just started being bitchy. God I can't even stand to be around myself. I read through some of my old post and actually cracked up. The contrast between then and now is eye opening.

I'm going to make an effort the get my funny back. If for nothing but myself. I miss being that funny, snarky bitch.

Friday, July 25, 2014

I Broke My Toy

I broke my toy. No not that one, you perv. Last I checked B.O.B. was just fine. No, I'm talking about something I use much more often. My PS4.

Every month I indulge in something just for myself. Nothing too expensive, but it's my belief that whats the point of working so hard if you never get anything for it.  This month it was a pack of pinball tables for Zen Pinball 2 on Playstation.

I love pinball. It's the only video game I really play. Everything else gives me motion sickness. The ONLY pinball, in my opinion, worth playing on a gaming console IS Zen Pinball. It is as close to a real table as you will find.

Plants v Zombies is fun. I kick ass at Sorcerers Lair with 300 million + score. But I'd been playing those for months and I thought I deserved some new tables. I bought the Marvel comics pack that includes World War Hulk, Avengers and Fear Itself. Love these 3 games.

And then yesterday I sat my behind on the couch, controller in hand, ready to play and NOTHING! The playstation wouldn't work right. I unplugged the whole thing and waited a few minutes, hoping it would reset itself. It didn't work. When I swipe the power button, all it does is beep 3 times. I didn't have the patience to try to figure out was wrong. I just wanted to play some pinball and I couldn't which made me mad.

I had to give someone at Playstation an earful of gamers dismay. So I got online and opened an online chat with a rep. And what is the outcome of this support? I have to send the console back to Sony to have it repaired. Any bets on how long this is going to take AND if I will begin to feel the affects of Pinball withdrawl?

Thursday, July 24, 2014

Reopen that wound

If you tuned in yesterday you are well aware of the heart break I've been dealing with. I don't know how well I'm succeeding but I'm attempting anyway.

I was doing ok. Surviving on boring first dates and movie nights alone. I had been nearly two months since I last wrote to Bam. One night I was sitting in my reading chair with a good book when this text came to my phone:

UNKNOWN: Missy, this is Bam's gf of 8 months and i don't appreciate u stalking MY man time for u to move on! u had ur chance and blew it he is happy now ttfn

No, I didn't just have a seizure while typing that. It's exactly as I received it, except I changed his real name to his blog name, Bam.

I sat there dumb struck for a moment. I mean, who the hell randomly texts someone they have never met with some stupid shit like that? Immediately I equated her with a child. I answered her though. Just to clear it up:

MISSY: I haven't tried to contact him in almost 2 months. Safe to say I got the message. But if it makes you feel better to piss on his leg, mission accomplished.

UNKNOWN: Makes me feel wonderful! Glad u caught a clue cause a hint 4 u... U sound like a psycho stalker... Js ttfn

MISSY: Really? And "ttfn" is a completely normal, adult sign off (winky smiley face) Just take good care of him, and I'll leave you guys alone. Deal?

I knew she was baiting me and I wasn't getting sucked into that drama. Clearly, since she is up to date on his personal mail, she knows I haven't written in two months. So why now, so out of the blue? Like I said, she was looking for a fight. Trust that I ain't that girl. If you want to get down and dirty with me, put on your big girl pants and do it face to face. Until then, you aren't even a blip on my radar.

This whole exchanged bugged the crap out of me for so many reasons. First, I was doing better. I still love him, still miss him. BUT I'm capable of seeing that he didn't intend to reconnect. I was leaving it alone. And then this girl comes to open old wounds.

It strikes me as odd that she would text me. I have never met or spoken to her before. So I put some thought into how she got my number. I suspect she read his mail without his knowledge. I suspect he had no idea that she text me. Because, of Bam, I know this much; He does not like drama! I would be shocked if he'd given her the number and asked her to text me. He is a peace keeper. Content to leave well enough alone. I can't picture him inviting a cat fight into his life. I'm pretty confident that if he knew she text me he would be livid.

And since those texts, I'm back on the Bam wagon. Fuck My Life. In my head I contemplate every possible scenario. Maybe he never got the letters... Maybe she intercepted them. Maybe it was really him texting me to see if I would fight for him. Though I would think he knows better. I told him I only want him to be happy. Even if it's with another woman. Maybe I should send another letter but write it to her, since I know she's going to be the one reading it. Maybe, they are having issues because he still isn't over me, and she felt it necessary to be on the offensive.

You see my problem now? I was doing fine, and I do mean that as the acronym, but still. I was leaving it alone and now I feel the drawn right back in. Why can't I just walk away?

Wednesday, July 23, 2014


I feel like absolute crap. It may have something to do with getting drunk last night. A friend and I went to Flippers to play air hockey. I got my ass kicked, which is rare in air hockey. So I decided we should play pool. I got schooled again, which is normal. I suck at pool in general but without a few beers in me, it's laughable. At that point we went to a bar so we could drink beer while playing pool.

It worked. I really do play better when I'm buzzed. I think it has something to do with not trying so hard when I'm drinking. There was one game where I made 5 shots In A Row! I did good. Evened the odds so to say.

Until, we decided that every time we scratched we should pound beer. Yeah, it wasn't long before I couldn't see straight. But we had a blast. I needed to get out and stop thinking about the trials of daily life. Getting home at midnight and waking up at 4:30 am after drinking too much is NOT a good idea.

I had to leave my house at 6:30 am to drive an hour in order to pick Itty Bit up from her dads. We made it back to the house in just enough time for me to leave for work. It's been a long ass day!

Now, I'm depressed again. I hope it's the lack of sleep and dealing with my day via hangover. But I worry that tomorrow won't be any better. I'm angry and sad and lonely.

Monday, July 7, 2014


I told him.

I never rarely regret anything I do. If I feel like something should be done or said, I will usually do or say it. So without regret, I told Bam how I was feeling.

I didn't actually set out to. I had been "pining" for him a long time. Nothing was making the ache go away. So I started writing it down. My thoughts. Letters that I never intended to send. I was hoping if I got it out I could start to heal.

But then I thought if I don't tell him how I feel and there was still a chance I WILL regret that!

Knowing I probably wouldn't be received with open arms, I sent a large envelope containing all the letters I'd written to that point. I did not hold anything back. I told him I loved him and that I never stopped. That I hoped he was finding happiness and I never wanted anything else for him. I put it out there that even if there is no chance of getting back together I still want to be friends. That I miss him.

While I waited I kept writing to him. In a black hard covered book, never meant to be sent. If he re-appeared I would give it to him, but not until then. I cried... A LOT. I hypothetically kicked myself in the ass and him in the balls, for fucking it all up.

There was nothing. Not a word back. Well I put it out there. Does that make it stop hurting? No. But at least I don't have regret on top of that pain.

On the last page of my little book I wrote that I was putting it away. That I wouldn't try to contact him again. I would use the book to look back and remember the pain that I went through and try to use it to avoid future situations. And then I tucked the book away and left it alone.

So why...? Why can't I stop. Bam sneaks into my thoughts everyday. Some days are worse than others. Most days I'll hear or see something that reminds me of him and I'll smile.

Other days EVERYTHING slams me in the gut and I just can't escape. Every song on the radio, going to Wendy's, driving past the skate park. Hell just being at the beach, where I work, can bring it on. Someone mentions The Walking Dead, I think about Bam. Brushing my teeth, because he was such a nazi about his clean teeth. Someone farting, because he did it frequently and thought it was funny.  And sometimes it's days at a time, or a week.

It's particularly bad when the girls aren't home and I'm left alone. Last night I watched the latest episode of True Blood. Sookie had wrapped herself in her dead boyfriends jacket just to feel his arms around her again. She then decides to sleep in it. I can relate to that. Some days I sleep in Bam's hoodie. Don't ask me why. Because it was his favorite? Because he gave it to me? It's irrational, but I do it anyway.

And it's been this way for 8 months. At what point should I consider seeking professional help? Is this what love is and I just didn't know it? Are broken hearts supposed to be broken this long? Or am I going mental?

Stay tuned... Tomorrow I'm gonna tell you about his New Girlfriend texting me.

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Still Alive

It's been about a year since I published anything on this blog. I wrote some blog posts about how awful life had been in the winter. How Bobby was in the closet and in denial. How DQ is still bat shit crazy and there isn't anything I can do about it. How I still love Bam. How I ended up stuck in the ghetto, just me and my girls.  I never "published" any of the posts. They were just too damn depressing. But lets play a little catch up shall we...

Bobby Rocks and I broke up, obviously. Actually it was more like, he figured out living with me didn't kill his urge for man on man porn. So he just left. Not without doing a whole list of assholish things first, but he did leave. It was a good thing. Yes, I was planning on leaving him. He just beat me to it.

I moved back to The Beach. Thank God I had a stash of money tucked away for such emergencies. It cost me about 3 grand but my kids are back in the beach school system and doing better.

DQ has been back to the hospital twice. One time they committed her for a week. I've come to realize this trend is never going to change. It will always be up and down with her. They can't officially diagnose her with anti-social personality disorder (sociopathy) until she is 18, but thats the road we are currently going down.

I've tried to date. I've been on maybe 10 first dates. Some I saw more than once. It's not working out well. In fact I've given up for the time being. I realized I was looking for a replacement for Bam. And as no one has been able to take away that pain yet, I'm throwing in the towel.

We got a new cat. Her name is Rizzoli. Spaz was lonely here all day by herself, so I thought a kitten would be a good thing. Spaz hid in the kitchen cabinet for a week. Until she realized that little thing was here to stay. Now they are besties. They run the kittie 500 together. The only problem with Rizzoli... she was a dog in her last life. She always wants to be outside. We take her for walks. She plays fetch... and sits on command. It's odd, but I guess it's what makes her fit into my crazy family.

Monday, February 17, 2014

Loosing My Grip

My life is out of control right now. And as I have no one else to talk to about it, blogging is my last resort. If I don't get this out into the world I think I'll shrivel up and die.

I can't decide which is my biggest problem. The fact that my teenager is so out of control I feel like I want her out of my house; or the fact that Bobby pulled the wool over my eyes in the form of a fairy tale lie.

Dealing with one or the other, wouldn't take so much of it's toll on me. But both at the same time? It's crushing my soul.

My birthday was a little more than a week ago.  I woke up early, as I always do. I knew there would be no cake or presents. My youngest was with her dad for the weekend, so I wondered if I'd even get a happy birthday from my other child. In light of the fact that it was just another day, I tried to act as such. I sat at my computer with my morning coffee, chain smoking my cigarettes, trying to read news.

But as birthdays often make us do, I started to reflect on where I am, at 39. I didn't want to, because I knew it would be bad, but it happened just the same.

To sum it up:
I have a 15 year old who is out of control, and I don't know how to fix her. I live in the ghetto in a house we can't afford.  Neither of my kids listen to me. And my boyfriend doesn't want to have sex with me. Tears of despair rolled down my cheeks as I cried quietly so as not to wake Bobby.

I still have not recovered from that moment in time. Every day, all day long I ache. The pain has progressed to physical. Everything hurts.

My birthday got worse as the day wore on. The teenager tried to pick a fight with me. I begged her not to. I tried to ignore her while I did her chores because she simply refused. I was helpless. Already being in a fragile state led me to cry. To which she responded, "Just because it's your birthday doesn't mean you have to cry about it." 'It' being the fight she was trying to start.

Later that afternoon, while avoiding the teenager in my room, I told my boyfriend that I needed chocolate cake. I gave him some money and he went to get one. It gets worse, but I'll leave my birthday at that.

So which is my biggest problem?

The out of control teenager. She absolutely refuses to do anything I say. For instance I will tell her not to eat or drink certain things in the house. She does it anyway. I ask her to do the dishes, she will go to bed and leave it all sitting there. Then if I tell her to do it in the morning, she will claim she'd be late for school. Tell her to do them after school, she does half, leaving the rest. I get on her 3 or 4 more times until they are all done, just for her to turn around and tell me I treat her like a slave.

She refuses to take responsibility for her personal hygiene. If I tell her to shower, she won't. Put away her clothes? Nope! Anything you could think of that a normal parent would tell a teenager to do, she refuses.

3 days ago was my final straw. Her sister was hyper at the dinner table. She looked at my 9 year old and said "If I could, I'd hit you right now." There was a short back and forth between her and I, before I said she was done with dinner and to go to her room. She refused, "No,. I'm not done eating yet." I told her that she was done and she needed to get up. She had no right to disrespect me at my table. The kid actually said "It's not your table. I'm not done eating yet. I'll get up when I'm ready."

This is what she's progressed to. And what do I do at that point? She's already lost every privilege I can think of for previously breaking rules. It was all I could do not to reach across the table and knock her out.  Instead a deadly calm came over me. This kid has no problems calling me names, telling me what a horrible mother I am, or screaming obscenities at me. That was it. I wrote up a long email to a placement center, begging for their help.  They called me back today, and there are some steps I need to take but the process has been started. Because if it was just her and I, that would be one thing. But I have a younger daughter to consider and protect. When I take off work early so that I can be home when the youngest gets here, because I don't trust the 15 year old not to hurt her when they are home alone.... that is a problem!

Bobby is another dragon clawing at my back. Or more accurately, sitting on my chest. Everything was great until we moved in together. But things quickly changed. The first thing that I noticed is our sex life dropped dramatically. Like instantly! And if I tried to initiate, he'd say things like, "Is that all you think about?" or just flat out, "No" For a while it was maybe once a week, than once every 2 weeks. As I sit here today, it's been almost 3 months since he's touched me. And I don't dare try to touch him.

It's easy to overlook little things when you have a healthy sex life. I'm one of those people who equates sex to love. If he's making love to me, he must love me. Right?

But now, I'm noticing other things, that when put all together, equal one big scary picture. I'm still missing a few pieces. I can't figure out why he moved here to begin with. I began putting the pieces together one by one:
I can't carry my gun
I can't drink energy drinks
I can't masturbate
I can't have a plastic shower curtain liner
I've switched to his kind of coffee
We've switched from 1% to 2% milk, his preference
I can't cook anything with spice, I am expected to cook
He would prefer if I kept my hair straight
He must sit beside me on the couch and at every meal. (more on that)
He calls me at least 3 times while I'm at work
I'm expected to call him when I'm on my way home
If he hears me typing, he wants to know who I'm emailing.
Who am I texting, who am I talking to on the phone.
Shall I go on?

About a week ago, I was sitting at my computer when he turned to me and said, "When we move, things are going to change around here." Curious I asked him what would change. "Your clothes. I am tired of looking at you in paint covered clothes. When we move, your going to have to start changing out of them when you get home."

I was stunned. I argued my point, that I never know when I'm going to pick up a brush and end up getting paint on myself. That this is who I am. An artsy bohemian type of girl. He was having none of it. He said he'd buy me an apron to keep on my easel. Wow, lucky me!

He's started to leave and go back to his home 400 miles away. Twice! The last time it was because I didn't want anything from starbucks when we went. I was in a hurry to get back to the house where the pissed off teenager had just thrown a fit. Fuckin sue me. But he was going to call it all off over that. I told him to just go then. He didn't. Obviously.

One day the girls and I were on the couch watching TV. He came out to sit with us, which he almost never does. My youngest was snuggled up next to me. He told her to move over so he could sit next to me. When she didn't he said "Fine.", turned around and went back to the bedroom. Who does that? Like a 6 year old drama queen? I was left shaking my head.

I realize now, that I am so fucked. Why? Because I can't make it on my own. He moved us out of the house I could afford, granted that was not a perfect situation. But $500 a month I could afford. The $1200 a month it would cost to live here without him... I can't.

I dropped him off at the airport this morning for a business trip. After I got the kids off to school, I took some quiet time and masturbated. After I orgasmed, I cried my eyes out. It had been more than a month since I had any release. And I don't see any reason it should be like that. He says he loves me. But every interaction, every time he pushes me away or demands something of me, a little piece of me dies.

If you're still with me, kuddos, we've come to our end. I have no idea how to get control back of my life. I am angry and sad. The two emotions battle for control constantly.  The ONLY time I find peace is when I paint. And I haven't had much get up and go to do it.

Please, dear reader, if you have some magical answer for all this, I would be in your debt. And now, since there is no one home to say "You're going to bed already?" I'm going to do just that.

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Carnival of Madness

Went to a concert this past weekend.  We had a lot of fun.

There were 5 bands on the ticket... including Papa Roach, Skillet and Shinedown. The band I went to see was In This Moment. There weren't nearly as good live. Oh well, you can't win them all.

Papa Roach was awesome. I would never set out to see them specifically, but I'm glad I got the chance. They put on a good show and the music was great.

Bobby took some pictures of me while we were there. I'm sort of wondering if I've lost too much weight. I don't much care for this picture, but it illustrates what I'm thinking. I'm weighing in at 125 these days, but this looks odd to me. Too skinny?

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Throw Caution to the Wind

So much has happened since my last post. Lets see....

My roomie tried to screw me out of money by telling me the water bill was $300 when it was actually $150 or so. I found out about that when she waited until I went to work and then cornered my boyfriend to tell him I owe her money. Funny thing was, I didn't actually owe her any money. All my bills were paid up and THEN SOME!

Eh, fuck it. This post isn't about bitchin'. It's about the good things in life. Starting with the fact that Bobby and I are moving in together. We spend all of our free time together anyway. So when things started going south here, we started talking about getting our own place. I would have asked him to move in with us, but my roomie has made life unpleasant and stressful, to say the least.

He adores me. He treats my girls like little princess'. And I love him. What more is there?

We found a cute little 3 bedroom house in a quiet neighborhood. DQ and Itty Bit can't wait! They are as sick of living here as I am. Plus they really like Bobby. I think we are all looking forward to being a little family.

I know, it sounds kind of crazy. But the way I see it, it's so crazy it just might work. And you know me... I'm nothing if not a little nuts.

So... the best thing about this house? It doesn't need a single repair. Not even a drop of paint. It's going to be so nice to live in a place that doesn't need any fixing up.

March 2014

Turns out Bobby is in the closet and trying to convince himself he's not. Also turns out I'm a moron and my bipolar leads me to do stupid shit, like move in with someone I barely know. Of course every thing changed as soon as we lived together. I was no longer adored and my kids were hell spawn, (his view, not mine,)

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Motor Mouth

I don't understand how someone's mouth can run 400 miles a minute as soon as their feet hit the floor...

I am not an overly talkative person. I know this is shocking to readers, but it's true. I write. And even when I do talk it's not at 6:30 am.

My roomie, I swear to God, must talk in her sleep. All day long. And whats worse, is she tells me the same shit over and over. Like she's forgotten whom she told her latest drama to already. I guess that's a good thing. I can pretend to listen and I'm not missing anything because I've heard it already.

The woman follows me around the house. She's talked to me through the bathroom door. I don't even let my kids do that. I'm sittin' there on the pot thinkin' 'Are you fucking kidding me?'

I get that she is girly, and girls chatter. It makes me roll my eyes. Makes me want to stick my finger down my throat, but I get it.

Yesterday was a special kind of day. I was up late and didn't even have coffee in hand yet before she started. At some point she asked what was wrong. "I'm not even awake yet." I told her. She tried like hell to be quiet, but still made noises with out saying words. I knew it was taking all of her strength not to talk.

I was up until nearly 1 with Bobby last night. So another late start for me, and again, before I had coffee in hand, her mouth was moving. This morning I was battered with her theories on free love in Europe, the reasons why we are puritan and prison sex. Great topics for morning coffee... NOT!

Monday, July 29, 2013

Fat Girl

I bet you never would have guessed I got fat! I'm not sure how this happened. Well, I am, but I didn't realize it was happening at all. Truly, I was oblivious. It never registered in my brain that I was wearing size 14 jeans. I didn't take the hint when my knees started hurting more often. I am always the one taking pictures, so I never really saw myself.

And then one day my fat ass stepped on a scale. For the first time in years, mind you. And what I saw almost made me faint.

I stretch to reach 5'2” in height. Keep in mind, pre-children, I was a 110 lb Go-Go dancer.

Young and skinny.

Many years, and two healthy babies later, I looked more like a blob of human. It happened slowly. I suppose that is a contributing factor to why I had no clue. But about two years ago, I stepped on a scale and was instantly pissed. The number: 170

Older and Wider (not wiser)

In the middle

And why was I pissed, you ask? Because no one told me I'd gotten fat. Maybe they were trying to spare my feelings. Maybe they thought I knew. Well I didn't. And I've spoken to the people who are close with me and asked why they didn't tell me. They just laughed and didn't take it serious.

60 lbs overweight is A LOT on a 5'2” frame. A 42” waist was just ridiculous! I had no problems getting motivated to lose it and get back into shape. And I'll tell ya, it came off a lot faster than it went on. All I did at first was quit eating garbage. Limiting my sugar to only my coffee. I also stopped eating so much. I took to heart the “fist size servings” the experts recommend.

When I started seeing improvements, I put more effort in. I started working out. Shadow boxing, dancing and more. It didn't take long... I was getting buff. I didn't make radical changes. Opting instead for the simple things. Parking far from the store so I could walk more. Taking the stairs instead of the elevator. It's the little things, trust me.

Today I am much happier. A 29” waist is so much cuter on me. Sure I'm not at 110, nor do I think I'll ever be again. That's not the goal. It's to be in better shape. To put some effort in. Lemme tell ya, going to the thrift store to buy size 6 jeans, because the 8's won't stay up, is fucking awesome!

Saturday, July 27, 2013

We Call This Progress

 It's official. Itty Bit is the most clumsy. She's now had more stitches than I have.

When she was about 4, she fell and busted her face on a vacuum. It was a nice lightening bolt shaped split that required 3 stitches. It took 3 nurses and me to hold her down so the doctor could stitch her up. She screamed so hard she burst the blood vessels in her eyes.

This time, she slipped in the bathtub and smacked her chin on the edge. I debated just butterflying it at home, but every time she talked, it gaped. So off to the ER we went.

This time it only took me and a nurse to hold her down. She didn't struggle much. Though she did try to bite the nurse. A couple of times actually. She was mostly calm when the Doctor was actually stitching.

We call this progress. Maybe next time, she'll be good and not have to be wrapped up and restrained.

Friday, July 26, 2013

Playing Catch Up

I've been away, and not had time to read all my wonderful blog broads. I promise I am going to catch up. You can read along with me if you like. This is what I'm reading...

All Fooked Up  

Shoulda Been a Stripper

Ann's Rants

Seriously Shawn

I'm Gonna Kill Him


Thursday, July 25, 2013

This One Time...

At Chat Camp...

My readers know I'm a dorky chatter. I know you are all making fun of me, I just don't care... Anyways. Mama Kat issued her writing prompts for this week and it was so funny that #2 on the list was " That one time you went camping"

As it happens I was "Camping" just last weekend. Bobby and I took off Friday morning on a 4 hour drive to go hang out with a bunch of our chat friends. All in all I think 14 people showed up. Bobby brought all his DJ gear and he mixed live. It was streamed into the chat room all weekend. Friday evening was pretty chill. I had a horrible headache so I didn't drink.

 DJ Bobby

Saturday, on the other hand, was a much different story. I think I cracked my first beer at 2 in the afternoon. Anyone who knows me, knows I don't drink often. So when I do it doesn't take much. By 5 or 6 I was toasted. I'd been thrown in the pool a couple of times. We played a drinking game. Music trivia, which I won. I did my victory dance on a speaker. I was subsequently scooped off the speaker and thrown into the pool... again.

Music Trivia Drinking game

At some point during the day, after my hair had been completely destroyed, someone loaned me their flat iron to fix it. Can I just tell you, one thing you don't ever want to do while intoxicated is try to straighten your hair. I burned the hell out of my fingers. Hey! Mirrors are tricky when your trashed.

 Thrown in... Again.

The other attendees decided it would be awesome if we had the first ever live chat wedding. For some reason Bobby and I were the obvious choice. So we got "chat married" He gave me a frito ring. I ate it before the ceremony was done. Instead of rice, the wedding goers threw water balloons. Aaaand my hair was fucked up again. My fingers hurt to bad to attempt to fix it. And really.... By that point I just didn't care anymore.

 The Chat Wedding

I broke a candle holder and cut my toe on the glass. I know, Only me! No one else was injured during this camping trip. Oh wait, there was that girl I burned with my cigarette. But I don't think she can be blamed for her injury so it doesn't count.

 Playing the part of Obnoxious Brat

I spent the better part of the evening in Bobby's lap while he tried to DJ. I don't think he minded. Everyone else thought it was funny. All in all, I had a blast. I didn't puke... I didn't get naked.... and my hangover wasn't unbearable. In my book, that's a good night!

 You join in on the writing prompt fun. I tell ya, that Mama Kat broad has a good thing going. Hop on over and see what it's about.

Mama’s Losin’ It

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

In Which DQ is Getting Better

We have been working hard on DQ throughout the Spring. She was on the Ablify, and doing so much better. She was a pleasure to be around again. I could see my little girl was still in there somewhere.

They have changed her meds, because she gained 15 lbs on the Abilify. I'm not sure I like the new one, but we are trying it. I have to option to go back if we want.

We've been able to do more things together. I've had the joy of watching her smile and laugh again. I can't express what a relief it is to know this will get better. Because it's really had to enjoy being a parent when your child gets in your face and says "I don't give a fuck what you think."

Recently we went to the beach in the evening, after the sun had set. We walked in the water with our shoes off. I watched her collect shells with excitement. She was a child again. The angry ball of rage was no where to be seen. It nearly brought me to tears to see her this way. I thought I'd never get her back.

I'm looking forward to more positive changes. And I think she is too.

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

The Best Times

Y'all have seen me go through some shit. Some of the worst life can offer. Back in February of this year I tipped my head to the sky and asked God, "How much more am I expected to take before I just can't handle it anymore?"

I was serious. I just didn't understand why. What had I done to earn so much strife? And why did it all have to happen at once?

This past weekend, Bobby and I went on a little road trip. We went to camp with some friends of ours. Two days of no one calling me Mom or wanting me to cook or clean. It was fabulous. On the way back, during which he drove because I was so hungover, I remembered something I'd heard a long time ago.

 'God gives his best children the hardest time so that the fruits of heaven may be sweeter.'

That isn't the exact quote, but it's how I translated and/or remember it. I laid back with my head in the seat and watched this beautiful man as he drove us through back woods Virginia. I couldn't help but to realize that he IS my good thing.

Bobby wears this look of contentment on his face. Always smiling. And when he looks at me, his eyes light up. There is just a hint of fear behind them. He's been hurt too. But he's ready to give it another go. He's putting his whole being into loving me.

I'll admit, I've jumped in with both feet. I don't know how it happened. I don't even care why. I just know that it is. I have faith in this thing called love again.

Bobby has driven out at least every other weekend to see me. This last trip lasted a week. It was amazing... Getting to wake up beside him every morning. 

He left this morning to go home. He has things he needs to take care of there. But he'll be back in a week. The time spent apart is not easy but we are managing. For now. He's been looking at places here. The idea of him being with-in arms reach is very appealing to me.

Ok, I'm done being a girl now.

Monday, July 8, 2013

I Must Be Crazy

Yeah I must be crazy. Actually, I'm very up front with people on this point. My chat name is Crazy Tat2ed Chick. All three of those things are true.

Please don't roll your eyes at this post. Clearly I need to have my head checked.

He is:
6 foot tall with tanned skin and broad shoulders.
His eyes are deep. He thinks they are guarded but I see him clearly just by looking in his eyes.
He is older than me by 5 years. I know, it's a first. Usually the young pups are chasing me down.
He is responsible and mature.
Yet a class clown and the life of the party.
He is very good looking and he's got the prettiest mouth you've ever seen on a man.
He kisses like his life depends on it. That's important.
He is giving and kind, almost to a fault.
He can keep up his end of the conversation.

And he is also a chatter. The same chatter who lives 400 miles away. The one I was supposed to be safe from because he was so far away. I know, someone needs to smack me. I swore I would never date another chatter. But he's so fucking charming and charismatic.

When the topic of long distance relationships came up, I told him that I wasn't interested for one reason only.
If things work out and we really get on, we will eventually want to be closer together, right? I can't leave this area, because of my custody situation. And I would never ask someone to leave their job and come here. I'm so freakin' smart and level headed sometimes, it's scary.

But then he says, "Let me make something clear to you, dahlin'"
Oh this is going to be good. He's going to say, he's only DTF, and there will be no long term. I am soooo out!
"My job goes where I go." he says. "I was ready to move to The Beach 2 years ago, and do my job with my toes in the sand."
"My house will be paid off in 2 years and I don't plan to stay here much longer after that."
Well that just threw a wrench in all my carefully thought out logic!
And boy am I glad he did. He came to visit. Sort of a get to know ya, see how we meld kind of thing. Like two dorky peas in a pod. It is good. I am happy.

And did I mention he's funny. I was on the phone with him when he dialed up On-Star to get directions to my house. When the lady answered and asked what she could help with, Bobby said, "Yes. I want to go see this really hot girl who lives in virginia beach. Can you tell me how to get to her house."

He is also so sweet and romantic, it's nearly blown me away. While discussing whether I could drive out to see him, he said he would be the one to do the traveling. And when I pouted he said, "Hasn't a man ever cared enough about you to want to do these things for you?" I didn't have an answer for that.

Chatters, as a group, get together sometimes to do dorky stuff. I've been known to plan many get togethers for local chatters. There is a chat camp event coming up. At first there was no way in hell I was going. (Bam was going to be there) Then I thought about it, and I might go, but not tell everyone. And now... Now I can't wait. Bobby and I will get to spend the weekend together, hanging out with our friends and being big chat dorks.

Yeah, Life is Good!

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