Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

You May Think. . .

You may think I am stupid.

You may think I am weak.

You may think I am desperate.

You may even think I am pathetic.

And you might be right.

I have felt all of those things.

I have believed all of those things.

But I refuse to get lost in those things.

I refuse to let them consume me.

Do I know what I am going to do?  Not right now I don’t.  I am trying not think about it, because right now the point is moot.  He and I have had no contact, and I am not planning on contacting him.  I still have some of his clothes, all of his good pants, which I actually starched and pressed the same night I found out he had been screwing around.  I am aware this is odd behavior, but there was something therapeutic in the ironing.  He texted me on Friday and asked if he could get his clothes, but I didn’t answer.  He texted on Saturday and asked the same, and I told him yes, and that I would let him know when.  I asked him to not bring her, out of respect.  He said he had kicked her out.  Should I believe him?  Probably not, but I suppose it’s possible he did kick her out.  Either way, I texted him a couple hours later and told him he could come get them, and to please bring my key.  I also told him it all seemed so final, and it made me sad.  I haven’t heard from him since.  I don’t think it was about the clothes.

 

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