I did some stuff today...

I did a lot of work today. I listened to a friend who needed to vent. I vented some. We laughed.  A Lot. We came to terms with life kind of sucks but it is also incredibly wonderful and we love all sorts of people we shouldn't.   I cried a little on my way home cause I realized I had a bit of a broken heart as well, but couldn't share it with anyone, so I bucked up. I drove around the neighborhood a few times to make sure eyes weren't red and poofy when I saw the kiddo. Picked up kiddo and went Birthday Party Stuff shopping.

I sang and "seat" danced while driving, so loudly and enthusiastically my child pointed out we did not in fact have tinted windows.  I kept singing and dancing, she joined me!   We then shopped for Zombie inspired stuff. We bought fake blood, and a plastic flesh eating worm that will sprout from my child's forehead. We picked up Hello Kitty inspired ears and tale. We marveled together at how sick we were and how we both were just wrong.  We bought Tinker Bell Cupcake wrappers, and gummi worms to sprout out of said cup cakes.  We also purchased gummi bugs and gummi mushrooms!  Did you know they even made gummi mushrooms? SOOO COOL! We decided this is going to be the most awesome Cemetery cake EVER.  We discovered they don't sell candy molds for body parts anymore.  We were sad.  We again marveled at how wrong we were.  We may at some point need therapy.  ;p

We came home and created, and cleaned a little and played.  I invited another friend over, but I don't think we really talked much about what was bothering her.  I think we both needed the company and the connection.  And the Wine.

I did some stuff today.  Today was Good.

Bad Hair Cuts and Dodging Bullets

OK, obviously this is NOT going to be a daily blog, lol.  Apparently I have to suffer for my art and  I'm just not that angst ridden.,  (who knew, right?  I thought I totally had that needless angst thing DOWN!)

Todays topic.  Hair. (Yeah, cause I cover all the DEEP INTELLECTUAL topics.)  I woke up a few mornings ago, hating the shapeless mop my adorable little pixie had become and with a "vision" for my new hair.

Adorable Pixie -


Not so adorable shaggy hair thing - cleverly hidden under HAT.

NEW VISION = Short, sophisticated, sexy.  Hot, right?

Instead, $120 later (including tip and weird red high lights) I walked out with a hair cut that was closer to...........

 *dramatic sigh* THIS

Reactions have run the gamut from "oh, it's not THAT bad" , to mumbled "it's cute" and a hasty change of topic, to comparisons to the Fab Four back in their heyday,  and culminating with the eventual "are you TRYING to sabotage yourself as a woman?" (I have the BEST friends, they may not care too much about my feelings, but they have enough faith in our friendship to be brutally honest and I have the mental scars to prove it.  Wait, What? Friends do that?  *mental note:  blog about freinemies later*)


But the interesting thing I learned (was reminded of) - was WOW are some men really involved with long hair.  I mean, you could set the bed they were laying in ON FIRE but if you have long hair, you're sexy and they might take you back.

I ran in to this in college, when I chopped off about 2 feet of Goddess hair after a hideous perm left me looking like Jon BonJovi in the early 90's.  I actually had a guy that I had a crush on come up to me and tell me,"wow, I used to think you were hot, and that you were really cool and all, and I'd been JUST about to ask you out, but yeah, I don't like you with short hair"  and I was like "REALLY?   Fuck, I should have kept the hair and given it to you to rub on your penis. That would have totally made you happy."  For some reason, he wasn't amused by my response and he was all like "I'm just being honest!"  and I was all "WELL you're fucking honesty sounds a LOT like you being an asshole!"  and he was all, "well my girlfriend now has long hair and she's HOT" and I was all "THEN IT'S TOTALLY INAPPROPRIATE TO BRING UP HOW HOT YOU THOUGHT I WAS WITH LONG HAIR"  and he was all "WELL SHE'S THINKING ABOUT GETTING A BOB." and then I think we may have made out passionately in the Frat House 1st floor Hallway for a bit, before I slapped him and went to go look for a re-fill on my beer. (Cold beer ALWAYS trumped insincere affection in my life, it's just the way it IS)

Side note -  (Saw him 2 years later at a friend's wedding, when the hair had grown back, and HE ACTUALLY ASKED ME OUT, and I WAS LIKE ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? GTFO - AND BY THE WAY, YOU'RE WIFE, IS STARING ASSHOLE) *whew* dodged that bullet.  Can you imagine being with a guy whose affections were actually swayed by the length of your HAIR?

Ever since then, I've been leery of men who were all about the long hair.  I mean I get it, we all have preferences. Brad Pitt with his long hair in "Legends of the Fall"  was AMAZINGLY fuckable... but that did not detract from his frakking hotness in Mr. and Mrs. Smith.   I PREFERRED HIM WITH HIS LONG HAIR, but that did not in anyway stop me from having dirty dreams about how fun a three-way would be with him and his short hair and Angelina Jolie.  (Oh shut the fuck up, EVERYONE used to have a crush on her until she became so damned skinny it was scary. Yes, I know, I'm scared of the vah-jay jay but it doesn't mean that if it were super  hot and paired up with a dude that was super hot... oh fuck... Mental note: fodder for future blog)


Uhm. so here's my point.  I understand that long hair is often one of the things that many women cling to, cause they know guys LOVE it.  And a LOT of women LOVE their long hair, genuinely and completely and the way a fat kid loves cake.

But I totally resent the implication that somehow, long hair will make me a more desirable mate.  Maybe I know enough men that I respect as individuals that I REFUSE to think that this is really one of those "tipping points" that make a difference.  And if I'm wrong?  well then *whew* as fucked up as it all may seem, maybe I'm just dodging bullets?

  

Men want sex. And my refusal to become a Moose.

I had a great IM conversation with someone who is one of the most interesting men I know and whom I greatly admire for how he's conquered his demons and how he writes about them.  He's a Fire Fighter, Carpenter, Contractor and Drag Queen.  So basically, when he's a man he's ALL MAN, and when he's not he's partial to tight leather skirts and leopard print bras (that he probably bought on sale, the bitch).  So if there was anyone that I thought could help me straighten out my dating profile and offer hints on how to dress sexier, all at one time, (what?  I'm nothing if not efficient) I trusted it would be him. 


So, I showed him my dating profile.  I expected a few edits (cause I'm wordy y'all), a couple of risque quotes, being told which bra to wear for the boob shirt pic, etc... not an;


 "OMG, get rid of the whole thing!"  


Uhm, what? ouchie....  Now I had worked really hard on that profile.  It was funny and honest and I felt a really good depiction of who I was and what I wanted.  His response "No it's not!"  And then he gave me some verbiage that he felt is what I should write and was honest.  My response ""But, but, but that's not funny?  It has no humor in it... it's so BOOOORING..."   Apparently, men are supposed to find out about my goofball personality AFTER they've already made the initial investment in dinner. 


We talked a bit more about what men were really looking for, and while I thought the whole "just sex" thing was just a front, he confirmed it wasn't.  Men apparently ARE looking for just sex (who knew?) but it also had to be sex that they felt they had HUNTED for.  Something about no self respecting hunter would shoot a moose that just walked up to him and said "Shoot Me."  (Which I beg to differ with, cause I think they would shoot the moose anyway, they just wouldn't respect it in the morning, but I MIGHT be mixing metaphors here.) So, apparently,  I have to figure out the balance of not asking to be shot, but making sure that they KNOW if they have me in their sights I might not run away.  :/ 


THE FUCK?


 Every man I talk to states they just want a woman who is honest and  can be themselves and isn't in to "playing games."  I'm pretty sure it's actually written in about 85% of the "about my ideal partner" section in most dating websites.  And yet apparently, men are ALL ABOUT THE GAME, though of course, they don't call it a game - they prefer to think of it as the HUNT.  I think they actually train women to be psychotic bitches  (no, I will not sleep with you, yes, I desire you, oh wait, no I don't, well maybe if you kiss me right there... *slap* how dare you, well, OK, well maybe I'll let you touch... oh that feels good - WAIT no - sorry, too soon.  Did you bring the filet knife?) WTF???


A few of us hold out, thinking that reason and humor and genuine affection is really what the "good" ones want.  Again, apparently we're wrong.  Guys love it when it actually happens and they end up with a mate that's like that - but it's not what they are LOOKING for.  It's just kind of happy collateral apparently.  


So, advice I was given in a nutshell.  Don't look for a relationship, have fun, have sex, and if a relationship is gonna happen, it will.  Do not ask to be shot, just let it be known that you won't exactly run if aimed at.  Also, I need to take fly fishing lessons, cause men, especially Alaskan men, totally respect a woman who can fly fish.  I guess it's the equivalent of shooting a moose with a large rack.  (ability to fly fish = large rack? topic of future blog) 


I don't know, I'm pretty sure I'm not cut out to be a come-hither moose.  Also, I think it's only fair that any guy I meet understands what a nerd I am at the outset, cause I feel it would be lying to represent myself as anything else.  And it they can't handle me for who I am, then really - why go through the effort of playing some elaborate charade, only to end up divorced later???  


All that being said, I think I'm still signing up for fly fishing lessons. After all, you can't completely discount the opinions of a man who can appreciate a really cute bra.  


Also, and it's only fair to mention - after I made the changes to my dating profile, I got triple the responses in one day, than a normal day  under last profile. Guys are weird.

Added Goals - Don't forget to pray and be Nice to Myself.

LONG rambly post... Mostly just me thinking out loud.  Feel free to ignore this one.  

Sometimes I come off as a bit of a Debbie Downer... but for the most part I am an optimistic person.  I have really been blessed in my life in so many ways, and I really do try and be thankful for the good things in my life.  Sometimes though, it's  not enough - and like now, I feel the need to make major changes in my life.  Usually, I'm not really quite ready to commit to those changes and I fail.  Then I beat myself up over not making those changes and it's a weird little circle of life thing, cause the beating up leads to an erosion of confidence which leads to even less desirable output and the need to start over again and then I don't follow through, which makes me want to kick myself in the pants to start over .... and so on and so on.  

For instance, I've been in a diet since I was 18.  I started off at 125 lbs... 24 years later I'm still on a diet and NOW weigh, well, let's just say, CONSIDERABLY MORE THAN THAT. I've been writing my "novel" since I was in 6th grade, fresh from reading To Kill a Mockingbird, thinking "WOW, I can DO that."  I don't think I've ever gotten past page 8 (though am actually pretty thrilled with myself for getting my 5th blog done in 7 days...woo hoo)  What started as a goal to keep my "room" clean, became my never ending struggle to eliminate clutter and mess from my house.  

So what can I do differently this time?  I've tried it with the help of friends, I've tried going it alone, I've tried putting myself in the hands of God, the Universe and an ex Husband.  Never worked for long, I mean, I'd meet some measure of success, but soon enough, I'd slip back in to old habits.  So what's the key?  I've been successful at a LOT of other things in my life, so what can I learn from them - that I can apply to these areas of my life?

I think it boils down to the following.  I need to truly make a mental shift.  One of my most difficult accomplishments, was quitting smoking.  I smoked from the age of about 12 until I was 30.  I'd quit every other year, and it would last a day, a month, sometimes as long as 6 months.  Then I would sneak a cigarette, I would berate myself for my weakness, I'd make 100 excuses as to WHY I NEEDED that cigarette at that point,  and suddenly I'd be back to smoking.  And I'd feel like hell. The feeling of self loathing would eat at me.  Why am I so weak?  Why do I lack the will power to stop?  Then the blame games would start, well if only so and so hadn't pissed me off, gosh, but work is so stressful and I need this cigarette to calm myself and really this is just kind of a shitty week so maybe I'll quit next Monday, at the beginning of next month, Next year... and then defiant acceptance.  Well fuck it, I'm just a Smoker.  That's who I am.  Light up or shut the fuck up.  There is nothing wrong with me smoking and it's just society try to impose it's fucking will on me and trying to tell me what I should or shouldn't do. Fuck them.  Light Up America.  Screw "the MAN" yeah.  Until I'd wake up one day smelling of cigarettes with a mouth that tasted of ashes and it would dawn on me, Oh yeah - I WAS THE ONE WHO WANTED TO QUIT AND THIS IS WHY.  So I'd quit.  And I'd fuck Up.  And I'd beat myself up over it.  And I would get angry. And I would accept - over and over again. 

Then came my pregnancy.  I wasn't expecting it.  In fact, I was kind of shocked cause I had been told it would be so difficult for me to conceive.  I counted back to a rather long night of smoking and drinking and I prayed, prayed HARD to a God I'm not always sure is listening and a Universe I was just getting to know.  Please.  Please let her come out OK (and look like Gabriella Reese, and be as smart as Einstein, and have the calm demeanor of the Dalai Lama oh and please God don't give her that weird teeny toenail thing I have going on...) and I'll be good.  And I quit.  Completely during the pregnancy and then I snuck a few more cigarettes here and there during my first few months of breastfeeding... but there were no recriminations and no jumping back up on the band wagon cause I still had many more months of breast feeding ahead.  I fucked up, but it happens and then I would diligently apply myself to not fucking up anymore.  Then one day I smoked my last cigarette - I remember it clearly.  I'd snuck one from the pack my husband at the time left on the counter.  It was 40 degree below zero outside,, and I had my window cracked so I could smoke through it... and the absurdity of it hit me.  I am a GROWN woman, sneaking cigarettes, freezing my fool fingers off and smoking out the window like I was in High School.  Oh, and it tastes like shit. Why am I doing this again?  And that was my last one.  A little over 10 and a half years ago.  Complete mental shift.  No more cravings.  

I feel I need to apply that same thing to my weight loss efforts, but I'm not sure how.  Please God, the Universe, help me out here however you can.  Also, yeah, I'm gonna mess up but I HAVE to do better now.  My blood pressure numbers are rising and cholesterol levels are on the threshold.  It's time.  I work so hard to raise an amazing daughter to WHAT?  To let some stupid heart attack kill me off cause I try and fit chocolate, bacon and cheese in to at least three meals a week? (or a day, whatever, don't judge.) There are so many wonderful, good foods out there.  I like to cook them.  WTF is my problem?  I'm lazy some days and don't want to cook, well HELL there are all those pre-made shakes and soup packets that I spent a small fortune on.  I'm going to fall, it's ok, I can get up.  Get to it.  I'm never gonna be that magical size 5 I wanted to be when I was 18,  but dayam, I can be healthy, and look better, and have more energy and feel better, right?  Why is it so hard to give myself permission to be nice to myself?  Why is it so much easier to bad mouth myself and call myself a long litany of names and focus on all the deficiencies of my nature?  To beat myself down so I lose all hope or wish to do better?  Why?  

I don't do this to myself professionally, I don't do it to anyone else.  Why do I think it's OK to treat myself like this??  So I think in addition to all those other changes I want to make, I need to add one more, cause I don't think any of those other changes are going to happen, much less stick, if I don't.  I need to be nicer to myself and treat myself with as much respect and kindness as I would a random stranger.  I'm worth it.  

OK - New Plan.

Apparently, I CAN'T raise Bengal cats in Alaska,.(See Saturday's momentary relapse blog) they're illegal here, or so my Judge friend tells me and I guess he should know being familiar with the law and all. So NOW I have to come up with a new plan on how to spend the rest of my pity party life.


I woke up this morning at about 4am and found it impossible to get back to sleep. My brain was itching. All these thoughts drifting in and out of my head, all these details left unattended to, all these plans and goals unrealized - not through any tragic turn of events, but through inaction.  I had to ask my self some really tough questions and I wasn't liking all the answers I was giving me.  (I hate when I do that.  I should really take up lying to myself, I suspect I'd be a lot easier on me and probably like me better, but then I would probably catch myself in a lie and lose all respect for me, and really no one wants that, cause my integrity is one of the best things I have going for me.)


Somewhere between the hours of 4 and 7 though, a few things started to become really clear.  


1.  I needed to start DOING instead of thinking and planning.  I have notebooks full of ideas, thoughts and dreams.  I know that the "Law of Attraction" that is so popular these days says you just have to WANT things to come in to your life and they will; I call bullshit.  I think you have to work for things to come in to your life.  The whole "when opportunity meets preparedness" thing rings a little truer to me.  


2.  My life needs a little "pruning" so that I can focus my energies on the things that matter. Less time hanging out in situations I care little for and with people who could care less about me, and more time focusing on doing the things I love with the people who matter. Less time on the Facebook and Twitter, watching TV, and being a "consumer" and more time being a Creator.  More time clearing out all the clutter, physical as well as emotional - to make room for the good things. Less time worrying about shit I can't control, more time paying attention to the things I CAN.  More time learning about the world around me, less time judging things I don't understand. 


3.  I need to be practicing a whole lot more self discipline. Setting schedules and keeping them.  Doing the steps it takes to reach all those goals I have.  Going to bed at a decent hour and hitting snooze less often.

4.  And finally, Holy Heck, my dog Koga farts a LOT in his sleep.  Eww.  Don't let that adorable face and shaggy coat fool you - he is stanky and you DO NOT want him curled up next to you.  


Sooo, with all those revelations and a particularly hellacious fart on Koga's end - I jumped out of bed the earliest I have in months, threw the windows open wide and gasped for dear breath... once the miasma cleared... I smelled early morning wafting through the windows.  I'd forgotten how much I like the smell of morning.  


I'm more full of energy today than I have been in awhile - and in the first hour of my day I think I accomplished more than I did all DAY yesterday.  Think I'm gonna try to and get used to this feeling.  Wrap myself around it and enjoy it. It's one of those First days of the rest of my life, right? I should get on that... uhm, again.  

OMG Seriously???

I'm totally going back to self deprecating humor.  I need it.  It's not like I'm making myself SEEM to be a living Ziggy comic.  I ACTUALLY AM.  I could bust out in to tears, or I can laugh about it.  I'm gonna pour myself another cocktail and laugh.  

Also, I'm gonna start breeding these:

OK, off to go curl myself up in the fetal position.  Have a great Saturday Night folks!

Do you care if they Love you Back?

How many people can you love before it's too much? she said & I said I didn't think there was any real limit as long as you didn't care if they loved you back. ~ Story People

Wow, writing three days in a row.  I'm kinda impressed with myself.  That's like three days longer than my last diet lasted.  


I've been really concerned about a friend lately.  He's been sad and deservedly so.  But it seems like every time I try and reach out to him, I'm ignored or belittled.  So my question is, how long do you continue to care for someone when they don't care about you?  Or worse, themselves?  I mean, he's the one going through the issue, so the last thing I need to do is make it about "me" (which, unfortunately, I seem to excel at)  and really, he deserves the right to decide who he allows to enter in to his life during this time.  But would it KILL him to return a direct message or text?  


On one hand I can accept and acknowledge the need to be alone.  But during college I had one good friend attempt suicide and two other acquaintances actually achieve the goal.  It was a really small campus of approximately 1200 people, so it really affected me.  Were there signs I missed?  "OMG I was arguing  with that guy at the bar two weeks before he killed himself because he told me his room mate had a crush on me and I couldn't believe him cause his room mate was like an ADONIS, he seemed OK, what did I miss? If I would have been a better friend, could I have prevented this?"  And then there was my other friend who attempted suicide... I mean yeah, she listened to The Cure (before they got all Pop), dyed her hair black, and was "dark" as all get out, but hell, I went through my stages as well - and her license plate read LWYR2B, demmit,  that meant she had FUTURE PLANS, RIGHT?


Her room mate came home from hanging out with our group at the bar one night, and went to wake her up to gossip -  and she found her unconscious with slit wrists.  Again the questions - "What did I miss?  I've been hanging out with her almost every day for a semester - what should I have done differently,  how could I not have seen it?" Whatever "it" was.  (She is now the mother of two, living happily, with pictures of herself on Facebook, smiling widely. Brilliant, gorgeous red hair streaming, in case you were worried.  Cause I know you were, so just to let you know it's all ok now.)  


I guess maybe I'm just a little over sensitive when the Emo talk begins.  I pay a little more attention.  I try and be a better friend.  Which may be my very own special brand of hubris, thinking that I can make a difference.  


So what if I can't?  How long do I keep trying?  And really, if I'm brutally honest, is it entirely altruistic, or do I get myself caught up in trying to help other people through their dramas, cause it is a really super effective way of not dealing with my own?  Because it's sort of selfish to wallow and feel your own pain, when there are other people who need you.  Right?  Because it's so much easier to dispense advice, offer condolences, meet the friend in need, than it is to maybe deal with the little pieces of my own life that may need a little attention.  Maybe it's because, when I'm lonely, it's nice to feel needed. 


Or maybe I am that bleeding heart I'm always being accused of being.  I care too much and spread myself too thin.  And then I get resentful when the support isn't there for me when I need help.  So is the key really to just continue to care and do what I can, but not care if it ever comes back?  Is the key to sharing your love and your concern, not worrying if it's returned or maybe even acknowledged?  Can you ever really love too much?

Self Deprecating Humor

I love to laugh.  A lot.  I giggle inanely, I laugh out loud, I snort laugh at inappropriate moments, and have been known to let out the occasional guffaw.  Sometimes it's just a polite ha ha ha at someone's lame joke or the silent, stifled, hand over the mouth and look away kind of laugh cause, well, it's just not right. (BUT OMG, HOW FUNNY! RIGHT?)  Sometimes I just gaze off in to the distance with a goofy grin on my face cause something that caught my eye strikes me as particularly absurd or a vision of a dancing elephant in plaid golf shorts has wandered through while some random synapse in my brain misfires.


Often, I laugh at my own expense.  I use self deprecating humor a lot, sometimes because it allows me to say outrageous things I wouldn't say otherwise (it's easy to admit to a crush when it's cloaked in a joke and not to be taken seriously),  sometimes it's because I feel like if I make fun of myself FIRST it robs others of the opportunity to get in the dig I KNOW IS COMING.  I've been kind of using it to excess lately, cause if I don't feel that great about myself, at least I'd rather laugh about it than cry.


Recent conversations with several friends have made me question my overuse of self deprecating humor.  I mean, not only is it sort of like casting a big, bright spot light on my insecurities - which only gives those so inclined, MORE ammunition to use against me, not less, but with each bit of self deprecating humor it's like I'm chipping away at myself.  I'm treating myself like I'm some sort of caricature - a doomed and confused Ziggy Comic strip come to life.  To be laughed at, to be identified with during weak moments, but not real.  Not a real person consisting of genuine hopes, dreams, sadness, passions, ambitions & longings.  But a joke.  A big fat JOKE. 


I remember having an acquaintance who became sober and drug free after years of living an absolute INSANE lifestyle of parties, stupid stunts, and humiliating moments.  It was the first time I had seen him sober and he was a laugh a minute.  All self deprecating humor about what he used to be.  But it was all delivered with this fast, staccato, style - almost as if he were still on the cocaine he'd quit years earlier.  His eyes never quite echoed the laughter in his voice and they never really quite could look into mine directly.  The pain and self loathing behind every joke was almost palpable.  I wanted to cry and hug him instead of laughing along and feeding the manic energy.  


Sometimes I wonder if I sound like that.  


I wonder if people pick up on the sadness and the rage and the loneliness.  I wonder if instead of it making me seem happy go lucky, as if I'm just making the best of the random shit that has come in to my life, it instead makes me seem pathetic and sad?  I wonder.

Today is the First Day of the Rest of my Life

Felt I should mention that I owe the title of this blog to Story People.  Story People Quotes

How many times have I said that one?  Today is the first day of the rest of my life.  I tell it to myself each time I embark on a new adventure.  A new career path.  A new Diet.  A new relationship.     I tell myself that THIS time it will be different.  That I will not make the same mistakes that I made before.  That I will show more self discipline.  That I will control my emotions better. That I will not over think things.  That I will not take things personally.  That I will wake up every morning and go for a run.  That I will eat healthy lunches.  That I will go to bed every night with the sink shined and the dishes put away.  And I believe it with every fiber of my being.  Sometimes I actually even DO it. And that somehow, once I DO THE THINGS everything will fall in to place and I will be happy.  I will Like MYSELF.

Then sometime around week Three, after I've stayed up too late, with cocktail in hand, over-thinking what I may have said wrong or not have said right to the Crush du jour, after hitting snooze three times, desperately praying for a quick death to cure my hangover, and racing out the door with wet hair and no breakfast, cause I couldn't find a clean bowl for my cereal - it hits me. Shit.  Here I am again.

Today is the First Day of the Rest of my life. I'm a big believer in new beginnings and reinventing myself.  But lately, I've been finding it harder and harder to "re-boot." I'm finding it harder to motivate myself to really change, cause I've grown comfortable with my habits.  My roundness when I look in the mirror doesn't scream at me like it did when I was in my 20's (and 40lbs skinnier - but that's another blog).  I no longer believe that denying myself that extra cocktail, chocolate, pancake or slice of cheesecake is a reflection of my character.  I no longer worry that my friends and family will judge me overly harshly cause the floor isn't vacuumed and the counters don't sparkle.  I realized that I've actually kind of always liked me the way I was, I was just trying to get everyone ELSE to like me.  I've realized I could bend myself in to a fucking pretzel - and the people who don't like me are STILL not gonna like me and the people who do like me would have probably liked me anyway.

But the consequences of me becoming comfortable with my vices are starting to pile up.  My weight issue isn't one of Vanity anymore, so much as a health concern.  The house looks like I'm getting ready to go full on "Hoarder" in corners.  The simple things like arriving to meetings on time and fulfilling my obligations are going by the way side.  Where before EVERYTHING freaked me out - now nothing does.  I find this worrisome and suddenly I DO have that little voice screaming inside of me that SOMETHING NEEDS TO BE DONE.  I resent the HELL out of that voice.

That voice used to sound like my mother.  Telling me my butt was too big.  Telling me to clean my pigsty of a room.  It sometimes sounded like Sister Bernadette, reminding me that cleanliness was a virtue and Jesus would cry if I walked in late to Church and boy would God be pissed (to clarify, Sr. Bernadett would never have used the word "pissed" it's just the voice.)  The voice has sounded like various Bosses, Frenemies, Professors, My Ex-Husband, A few Boyfriends, and Family members through out my entire life.  Me drowning out that voice always felt like a little victory.  I'll SHOW THEM.  THIS IS MY LIFE.  THEY CAN'T BOSS ME AROUND.  SCREW THE DIET I FUCKING LIKE ME.

Now the voice sounds like me.  I am my own boss.  I am no longer responsible to the Mother I have distanced myself from.  I no longer have to twist my hopes and dreams and schedules to conform to an Ex-Husband who never did the same for me.  I no longer belong to a Church that tells me that at my very essence I am sinful.  There is no one to rant at, no rules or people to rebel against.  It's me coming to the horrifying truth that if I really liked me, I would be taking care of myself better.  I would be the Mother I always wanted to be cause my Mother couldn't.  If I really liked me, I would take care of my home cause it's my precious possession and it's the home I'm creating for me and my loved ones. It's me realizing that dammit, it's up to me to make sure that all those hopes and dreams come true, it's not anyone else's responsibility.  It's not any one else's dreams.

Today is the First Day of the Rest of my Life.  I should really get on that.