Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Archive for the month “December, 2013”

It’s A Wrap!

Last year I did a New Year’s Eve post in which I made a list of all the things I wanted in 2013: more sex, vacation, more readers, a built-in asshole indicator, just to name a few. As the year draws to a close, in preparation of writing another New Year’s Eve post, and starting a Fat Bottom Girl tradition, I read over it.

I am happy to report that I have gotten 3 out of 8 things I wanted in 2013:

1. Vacation– a couple of days in San Antonio.   I learned a lot of lessons on that trip, one being that if you’re dating an asshole, don’t expect him to keep his dick in his pants while you’re out of town on vacation.  Also, I figured out I don’t really like to travel alone, because it’s got to be a lot more fun when you have someone there to point and laugh at people with.  I am definitely taking more vacation in 2014!

2. More laughter.  I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten more of this, and a lot of it’s due to some of you bloggers.  You guys can be some funny motherfuckers!  Yeah, you know who you are.  Seriously, sometimes I have to actually cover my mouth while I’m pissing away time at work reading blogs, so my co-workers won’t hear me chortling and guffawing over some of the hilarious shit you write!  (God, chortling and guffawing, aren’t those fucking cool words??)

3. I have more readers. As of this posting, I am now up to 198!  I have absolutely no idea how this happened, because I still feel like some third-rate word hack when I compare myself to a lot of you, but I want to thank you for reading! (Which reminds me, I apologize if the checks I promised to send for your follow haven’t reached you yet. I swear I sent them! That damn post office needs to get their shit together!)

So as 2013 draws to a close, I didn’t get all the sex I wanted, there’s still never enough time to do everything I need to do, I’m still not satisfied with everything, and I am still trying to perfect the built-in asshole indicator, but my year is ending on a high note! First of all, because my son is coming back to live with me again! Things didn’t quite work out like everyone thought they would, and after more soul-searching, all involved decided it was best for him to be back with me. This makes me a very happy Mom!! All of it probably a hard, but necessary, learning experience for my son, and for me too.

Secondly, I have met someone. He makes me laugh, he’s a great communicator, he’s talented, intelligent, considerate, and he seems to get me and my sometimes nerdy ways. Plus, bonus! He’s a smokin’ hottie. I have no idea where it’s going, and right now I’m trying really hard not to care, and to just enjoy the ride. Everything with him is different than it’s ever been with any other guy, and in my book, that’s a good thing. That’s a damn good thing.

Raise your glasses Fat Bottom Girl followers!! Here’s hoping you get what you need in 2014, because in the immortal words of the Rolling Stones, you can’t always get what you want.


Love Is. . .Healing


I received this Love This Quote thing when I ordered a book online the other day.  I thought it was kind of neat, but I wish it would slide so you could change the size of the area.  This is from a book by Alice Walker called “By My Father’s Light”.

Patience, My FBG Followers

Holy hell, I gotta mix this shit up a little bit!  Throw some color up in this bitch and get a new look for the new year.  Please be patient while I dick around with themes and colors.  Thank you!!

A Pop (Flop) Marketing Nightmare Tweet

THE NICKI MINAJ COLLECTION?? So in other words, Kmart would be the place for hooker and lap dancers to shop?

From Reykjavik to Fiji

no longer a vast wasteland
of cold, crisp cotton
or chambers and ventricles
with ice rushing through them

my bed
like my heart
is warmed
by the mere thought of you

are you merely a weary traveler
seeking shelter
for the night
or are you searching
for a place to reside
a permanent home
to welcome you back
whether you’ve been gone
an hour
or days

Cleaning House & Inferiority Complexes

It’s time to clean house. I’ve had this particular piece sitting around in draft status for an extended period of time. When Le Clown so graciously asked me to contribute to Black Box Warnings many moons ago, I really wanted to, but I felt the piece I am sharing here wasn’t good enough. Basically, I felt like my writing wasn’t good enough to be featured on Black Box Warnings.  Most of those people had been Freshly Pressed, and I never had.  Hell, I still haven’t been Freshly Pressed!  Oh well, fuck those haters over there at WP.  See if I send them a fruit basket for Xmas!

I still plan on writing something for Black Box Warnings, if they’ll have me, and I hope to work on it over the holidays.  But I thought I would post this so all of you can share in my inferiority complex.  Surely I can’t be the only one who suffers from the “not good enough syndrome”, especially when it comes to writing!  I think the first two paragraphs of this are the best, so after that you may want to stop reading.  Oh, and remember, I wrote this months ago, and the “boyfriend” I am referring to is no longer the “boyfriend” because he’s the fuck stick that beat me up.


The carnies are fighting outside the office window as I sit here writing this. No, I don’t work for the carnival, or the circus. It just so happens that the carnies are camped out near my office; close enough that I can see their trailers, and hear them bitching about something as they walk past.

The irony of the situation doesn’t escape me. I am trying to write up a post for Black Box Warnings, after Le Clown so kindly mentioned the other day, he would welcome a contribution from me. Get it?? Carnies?? Le Clown?? Fucking irony. I am honored to have been asked, as someone who doesn’t consider themselves to be good enough. I don’t feel like a good enough writer to be here.

Most days I don’t feel good enough, or smart enough, or thin enough, or pretty enough. Lately it’s been worse than usual. I am full of self-doubt as my son makes the transition to living with his dad. I don’t feel like a good enough mother by just relinquishing my residential custody to his dad. Do I believe in my heart of hearts that my son going to live with his dad at the age of 12 is the best thing? Yes, I do, or I would have fought it. But still, self-doubt set in.

Self-doubt is like a cancer cell, and it’s the fast growing kind, metastasizing. One or two mistakes at work led me to thinking that maybe I don’t deserve to have my job. That I’m not smart enough to do my job and maybe they should just fire me and find someone else to do it. So it doubled.

Hearing from my boyfriend last night, that yet another woman he had gone to high school with had friended him on Facebook, and how they had a long conversation about where she lives now, and what she does, and how she said he should visit her in Alaska, led me to thinking maybe I’m not pretty enough for him. Maybe the women he is friends with on Facebook look better than me, and he will want them more than he wants me, and he will leave me for one of them. So it tripled.

While typing this post I have written, and rewritten, read and reread all of it at least ten times, feeling like the words I’ve put down aren’t good enough. I feel like they’re not clever enough, that I haven’t put my feelings down clearly enough to convey my point. So it quadrupled.

Where did all of the self-doubt start? Can I blame it on my parents? I think it began there, with my dad telling me I didn’t do good enough in the basketball game and wanting to know why I didn’t do better; with my mother always talking about how unhappy she was with her body. But it’s not all their fault. Can I blame it on the media? Yes, some of it I think I can. Images on pages, or flashed across the TV screen, of nearly flawless women, with perfectly proportioned bodies, making young girls like me believe that sort of look is obtainable. Never do they mention how much genetics play a part in how your body is shaped, or how they airbrush pictures to take out every blemish and reshape every hip or breast to achieve that seemingly perfect look. Can I blame it on past relationships? Blame it on the men who told me I wasn’t good enough, either through actual spoken words, or by their fucking other women and leaving me for them? Yes, partially they are to blame too. Can I blame it on myself? Well, of course I can, because I’m not smart enough, or pretty enough, or thin enough, or kind enough, or giving enough, or funny enough, or. . . .


The Tailor of My Heart

You come with needle and thread in hand
could you be the tailor of my heart
here to mend that which has been

stretched too far
the seams tattered
and split
worn down to nothing in some spots
like a child’s beloved teddy bear

tell me it’s not beyond repair
whisper in my ear,
“I can patch this with kisses, and kindnesses, and make it look new again.”

Photo Credit:  nonetta.deviantart.com

Photo Credit: nonetta.deviantart.com


Some things that happen in your life make you the person you are, and some things that happen in your life make you the person you are not.


and who will I be when you’re gone
if I allow you to define me

Five Card Stud

If life were a card game
there would be no
championship, no tournament
for me

I can’t bluff
I don’t have a poker face
I don’t know when to hold ’em
or when to fold ’em

No ace in the hole
No see you, no raise you
No call, no fold

squeeze play
suck out

tainted out

I’m a wild card baby
an irregular declaration
a maniac

So ante up
with your deep stack
go all in

I’m an exposed card

What you see is what you get. . . .

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