Fat Bottom Girl Said What

It's not about the ass, it's about the attitude!

Crimson Cloak

You were the worst kind of wolf in sheep’s clothing

cleverly concealing your incisors

distracting with gallantry and double speak

drawing me ever closer to the

quilt of lies and chaos under which you laid

“Let me soothe you”

“I am not like all the others”

“Feel safe with me beautiful”

“I love you”

What big lies you have!

lies which swallowed me whole

sucking me into their vortex

spinning me ’round and ’round

threatening to drown me

and silence my inner knowing

Me, ingesting my doubt

instead of spewing it out so I wouldn’t aspirate on it

You, being the wolf you are

saw all the goodies in the basket I carried

and knew all the right words to

make me relinquish them

Whatever was your purpose?

except to stroke your big bad canis lupus ego

Eventually the woodsman will catch up with you

you looter and plunderer

and cast a downfall upon you

the likes of which

not even your pack will be able to rescue you from

I, walk away

to face another day

wrapping my crimson cloak tighter round


to never be hoodwinked by a wolf again




pick pick pick

at it


pull it apart

threads woven







holes remain

which you hope can be


Life Lesson #564

The things you said

Or all the things you didn’t say

In the end

Didn’t make a damn bit of difference

It was what you did

Or all the things you didn’t do

That did.

So when all was said


All was done

You weren’t the one

**Note to self:  Actions speak louder than words. Always.  If you’re important to him, he’ll find the time.

The Poison Pen

Well, it happened today, and I have to say I’m just a bit excited. This uncouth, somewhat raunchy, fat bottom girl got her very first poem published in an actual publication, not just something I printed out of my garage on that old mimeograph machine.

It’s the first time I’ve ever had anything published, and I’m so glad it’s on Elephant Journal. Have you ever checked out Elephant Journal? It’s got a little bit of everything–poetry, astrology, relationship advice, healthy living, yoga–really, just a plethora of knowledge from tons of different authors.  Best part is, it’s almost free.  I say almost, because you can read three articles each day for free. I could never stop at three, so I bought a subscription for a mere $13 for a whole year, and it’s been some of the best money I’ve ever spent.

But without further ado, please, I’m begging you, go read, share with your friends, stay to read a couple more articles. Most of all, enjoy, as I’m hoping this is a first in a long line of published writing for me.


It’s the Little Things

Coffee cups stained from daily use
and the passage of time
minute cracks of the porcelain surface allowing the
infiltration of the smoky dark liquid

So much meaningless discourse meaning everything,
shared while clutching these cups
now warming arthritic fingers, tangled by tasks and touches
and years which have slipped by, often without notice

How many more times
will we fill the cups before one morning
One shall remain empty

*Posted originally on The Fat Bottom Bard.


I drink the wine
straight from the bottle
because there’s no need
for niceties anymore
No reason
to put on airs and pretend I’m sexy
So I don flannel pants and an oversized shirt
for comfort
Why do I allow you to take
all the good parts of me
when you go

*Originally posted on The Fat Bottom Bard.


Wanted to share a little news with you all.  No, I’m not pregnant. That would be a physical impossibility at this point in my life, for numerous reasons.

I submitted a poem, which I posted here on my blog, to elephant journal, and they have accepted it for publication.  I was quite excited, since this was the first time I had ever submitted anything, anywhere. Thankfully they were kind enough not to make me wait too long, until they responded.

I will post the link when it’s published, and I hope you will take time to check out my poem, if you haven’t already, and elephant journal.  I’ve fallen in love with elephant journal over the last few months, and I hope you do too!

Leave Now

“Leave now,” she said, “before I grow accustomed to your voice saying my name.”

“Leave now,” she said, “before I miss the weight of you in the bed and your hand upon my hip.”

“Leave now,” she said, “before we have a song we always dance to in the kitchen when it comes on the radio.”

“Leave now,” she said, “before I miss the feel of your lips upon mine and the smell of you upon my skin.”

“Leave now,” she said, “before we have jokes between us that no one else understands, and shared secrets.”

“Leave now,” she said, “before you make me believe in love and possibilities and tomorrows.”

“Leave now,” she said, “before you break my heart.”


Last Sunday I stepped on to a plane mourning being separated from my son once again.  I stepped off the plane to a different kind of mourning–the death of my step-brother.

Step-families are a totally other dimension.  I can’t say I’m overly close to any of my step-siblings, even after 30 years, but my step-brother was by far, my favorite.

He was more like a cool party buddy.  I tried to avoid family functions if he wasn’t going to be there, because he was the only thing that made them fun.  He and my brother and I would sit around and talk about his youngest sister, because none of us liked her.  She’s a bossy busybody, who thinks the world should revolve around her.  Which, she has once again proven by sending out a group text asking everyone to bring birthday cards for her 26 year old son because obviously, her brother had the gall to die and have his funeral on her son’s birthday. What. The. Ever. Loving. Fuck.

I told my step-brother in my head that he will have to help me bite my tongue when I’m around her.  And my brother and I joked that it was just the sort of bullshit that all of us would be laughing about if we were sitting around drinking together on another occasion.

But none of this changes the fact my step-mother has lost her son, and my niece has lost her father, and her children have lost their grandpa. On Monday, I will lift my glass to him because he’s the only one who ever made me feel like I was ever a part of that family. And I will miss him, and I will thank the universe I still have my brother.



The Seas of You

I try to draw a breath
but my lungs won’t expand
to allow it

A wet veil has been
placed about my head
and it threatens to cut off
the life force of air

Swimming in your seas
has left me with a fear of drowning

“Test the waters you fool,” says my chastising voice. “Never dive in head first. When are you going to learn your lesson?”

But all is lost in the abyss
my ears are covered with water
and blackness begins to swirl around me

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