Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Archive for the month “August, 2013”

Haunting Regret

What’s the one regret you can’t work through?
You got it baby, mine would be you
Yeah you got it baby, mine would be you

As if the morning wasn’t emotional enough, I had to hear these lyrics and think of you.  The tears were instantaneous–a build-up of what-ifs, disappointments, and lost love–flowing down my cheeks, intermingled with sobs.  I am still mad as hell at you after all these years.  You just gave up on everything and walked away.  You never even gave me and you a chance.  I had loved you from the first night we met, and after 4 1/2 years of loving you, you just walked away.  Do you know that every relationship I have had since you has been shit?  Of course you don’t, because we haven’t spoke in over two years now.  I am still trying to figure out why I can’t let you go.  Is it the regret I can’t work through, or do I still love you after all this time?

First Day of School

Today is the first time in eight years that I haven’t been with my son on his first day of school.  I had planned to be there, just to drop him off, but when I talked to him on the phone the other night, he let me know that he would just walk to school like all the other kids.  I know he isn’t a baby anymore, though he will always be my baby, and this is just a part of allowing him to grow up and become an independent adult.  I just wish it didn’t hurt so damn much because the reality is setting in that he doesn’t live with me anymore.

Practicing Acceptance

After 12 years I feel as if I have failed you.  I’m not claiming I was always the best mother, but I am the mother who will always love you the best, and love you the most.  But I feel like I have failed you.  I always thought I would be able to create another family for you.  I had hoped to do that–to meet a really great guy who was really good for both of us, one that would love you like you were his own.  One that would love you simply because you are a part of me, because that would be how much he loves me, and because he would know how much I love you.  But I didn’t do that, so I failed you.  After the third time, your dad finally got it right, and now you have a really great step-mom.  She doesn’t try to be your mom and replace me, but she is just a natural nurturer, and she’s good to you.  You like that family atmosphere that your dad’s marriage gives you, and I don’t blame you.  That’s all I ever wanted after my parents divorced.  I just wanted that family again; to be a part of something.  I wanted to get married, and have kids, at least a couple, and have that family.  But that didn’t happen.  The dream was nothing like the reality, and it was over before it started.  I feel like I can’t give you what you feel like you need right now, and that breaks my heart.  Up until now I haven’t ever felt that way.  I felt like the way things were was good enough.  I still felt like I was doing a good enough job, and that I was giving you everything you needed.  I don’t feel that way now.  Someday, you will understand why that breaks my heart.  Why every time I let the reality of you not being here slip into my waking brain, that it is physically painful for me.  Do you know what the worst part is?  I know that I have to learn to be okay with it.  I have to learn to accept it, or it will kill me.  And it won’t kill me quickly.  Doing what is right, and doing what is best, are usually some of the hardest things you will ever have to do in life, and in time you will come to realize this.  I just want you to know this is one of the hardest thing I have ever had to do, and it’s because I love you so much.

Two Minutes

While reading this post by Tric, over at My Thoughts on a Page, I was reminded. The envelope. I had sent for it, and then in the business of every day life, had sat it aside to be dealt with later. But cancer doesn’t wait, and those waiting for bone marrow have already been through enough, that they shouldn’t have to wait. So last night I got out the envelope that had been tucked back in the cupboard, behind the vitamins, and the ibuprofen. I swabbed the inside of my cheeks, and sealed the samples up in the envelope. Today I dropped it in the mail. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could do something so amazing as to give someone my bone marrow in the hopes that it would help them go on living?


Here Comes The Sun


I can’t get this song out of my head since I got up and saw the sun this morning.  It hasn’t been around enough lately.  It renews me.  It energizes me.  It is a necessary part of my existence.  Without it, I begin to wither and die.  I feel reborn again this morning as it streams in my windows.  Take a minute to listen and watch the video with some amazing photos.  Trust me, it will make you feel good.  Have an amazing, sunshiney day!

For Women Everywhere – Terri St. Cloud

Yes it is!!

Writings From Dr. Oolie's Pond

something snapped inside of her. ‘ENOUGH ALREADY!’ she screamed. it’s time for women everywhere to claim their worth, their value, their beauty, their sacredness. no more of this believing the darkness that’s been thrust upon them. no more taking the blame for the sins of others. no more claiming themselves failures when in fact, they are survivors. it’s time for women to stop. turn around. face those people who have hurt, harmed, and wounded and let them know that they refuse to be destroyed. they refuse to carry the burden. it’s time for women everywhere to claim their power, their beauty and their right to shine. it’s time for women everywhere to place the palms of their hands on their wounds, acknowledge the pain and change the world with the lessons gained from that pain. it’s time to move with the wisdom of a survivor and to know your strength…

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Her Name In Lights

It’s the smell. She can’t stand the fucking smell. Desperation mixed with vanilla cupcakes, stale sweat laced with the vestiges of last night’s drunk, and the nasty snatch of that one bitch who never seems to bathe. It makes her want to lose the two Xanax and the shot of Jack Daniels she washed them down with.

She lifts her head off the table, picks up the kohl pencil, and gazes at the mirror in front of her, not really seeing herself; seeing through herself. She avoids her own eyes. More makeup, is what she always thinks. Cover it all up; the disgust that she feels with herself, and with them. Cover it up until she looks like someone else, so she can keep lying to herself.

This was never how she pictured her life; it wasn’t where she thought she would ever be. She had always wanted to be on a stage, but not one with a fucking pole on it. After a series of poor decisions, and a string of fuck stick men who couldn’t manage to keep their hands to themselves, it’s where she wound up. Quite the irony considering she still has to deal with men who can’t seem to keep their hands to themselves. At least they’re supporting me, she thinks, as opposed to the other way around.



**I wrote this for a writing prompt, Characterizing Scenes, over on Tipsy Lit. Erica told me I’m a writer, so what the hell, I’m trying to write something!

**Stuck, over at Stuck on Zero, just alerted me to today’s WP Daily Prompt, “Smell You Later”, so I thought I would link this shit up!! Thanks girl!!

My Wordle Wednesday

So it’s no secret that I love my Wordle Wednesdays. Well, today it really is “My Wordle Wednesday”, since Kira asked if she could use a post I wrote the other day, the one about self-love. If you enjoy poetry, you should head over there and check it out, and maybe even contribute. Here’s what I came up with today:

destructive words
Full of spite
Belittle and demean
Flaws articulated
Know your worth
Speak kindly
Love yourself best

Honey Do (it for a blowjob?) List

Most of the time I don’t mind mowing, but last night was an exception. Due to unusually high amounts of rainfall here in “Oz”, the grass is growing at an alarming rate. Add to the rate of growth the fact that it’s near impossible to get it mowed between rain showers, and the fact the humidity is hovering around 85%, and you’ve got a virtual perfect recipe for knee-high vegetation and mosquitoes the size of a small child. All of these factors led to me wondering what it would take to get a man to mow my lawn; actually, to get a man to do numerous chores around my house. The answer? Blowjobs!! Seriously, I can’t be the first woman who has thought of this, right?? What is one thing a man always seems to want, but can never get enough of?? Besides beer! Yep, blowjobs. BJ’s. Oral copulation. Wouldn’t that be a fair trade?? He mows the lawn – blowjob. He fixes the roof – blowjob. He lifts heavy shit and kills bugs – blowjob. I think this is a perfect solution, and there must be a man out there who would be willing to enter into this sort of arrangement with me. Maybe I will just need to place an ad in the paper.

Your First Love


Self-love should be your first love. It should be your best love. But for so many of us it isn’t. We don’t speak kindly to ourselves. We are capable of treating others so good, of loving them with our whole being, in spite of their flaws, but to ourselves we speak harshly. We belittle, we demean, we are hateful, and destructive. If we don’t know our own self-worth, how can we expect others to treat us well?  We must nurture ourselves.  We must speak words of encouragement to ourselves.  We must love ourselves first.

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