Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Archive for the month “January, 2016”

Warning Labels

warning

 

 

I lived in a walled fortress most of the time. . . with a moat. . .and a dragon.  But no knights.  My life doesn’t currently have, and has never had a knight, or a true partner.  Mind you, I know knights don’t exist in anyone’s world except Walt Disney’s, and truth be told, after the shit relationships I’ve subjected myself to, I should probably come with a warning label.

If any man ever happens to express interest in me again, here is what I would want him to read on my label:

  1. I don’t trust you. Most likely I will probably never fully trust you. If I come to trust you, it will be because you’ve backed up your words by deeds.
  2. Don’t ever think scaring me is funny.  It’s a trigger for me, and you might possibly be met with a slap to your face or a knee to the balls because I will feel as if I need to defend myself.
  3.  No yelling. EVER. Yelling sets off an immediate panic attack in me, and then when the yelling is done, I immediately dissolve into a puddle of tears.
  4. PTSD.  I have it, though I hate to admit it.  There’s no shame in having it, but I constantly try to minimize the situations I was in and deny that I have it.  It will rear its ugly head, and you will need to love me through it, or you will need to leave.
  5. Touch.  I will need to sense your presence before you touch me, or I will be startled, even if you’ve never put your hands on me in anger. I can be a very affectionate person, but it will take a little time.
  6. Jealousy.  Don’t get psycho jealous with me, because I’ve been there and I won’t do that again.  It is possible I might experience some jealousy and read something into situations which are harmless because I’ve been cheated on numerous times and lied to too many times to count.  See #1 for further clarification.
  7. Guilt.  Because I’ve been told numerous times that everything that goes bad in an asshole’s life is my fault, I still have a hard time believing that it isn’t, so I will always feel like shit is my fault.  I will always assume worst case scenario in every situation and will prepare myself for the blame, so don’t be an asshat–you own what’s yours, and I will own what’s mine, and we will forgive each other and move on.

 

I think this about covers the basics.  If you’re still here and have an interest in understanding more about me, then maybe you give a shit and you’re interested in sticking around.  If not, that’s cool too, and I get it.  The rollercoaster isn’t for everyone.

 

 

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Battle Weapons

sing me to sleep

your arms wrapped around me

 

kiss my cheek

my brow

as passionately as you kiss my lips

 

show me that hands are made for kindness

and words are meant to elevate

 

and maybe, just maybe

my sharp edges will be smoothed

I will lay down my weapons

 

and allow you a glimpse inside

 

before you turn tail and run

 

The Theory of Disease

apathy has settled in my heart

and in my bones

 

like a rare form of cancer

it eats at every cell of my being

 

it burrows into my marrow

consuming all I believed to be good

 

about you

about me

about the world

 

indifference is a sheath for my feelings

numbing any twinges of caring

but never halting the progression of my sickness

 

it will eat me up from the inside and leave nothing

but a shell

 

it was you

and you

and you

and even you

who gave me this disease

who left me with these symptoms

 

indicative of a greater malady

 

which left untreated

can bring about

the downfall of society

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Speech Impediments

This time last year, I loved you, and thought there was still a small chance you loved me.

Now I wonder if you ever loved me, or if it was just easy to type because the words in print, held no weight.

It always seemed when we talked that you would have trouble forming the words in your mouth, and I don’t remember you ever saying it first, but only in response to my telling you.

I’m not sure what hurt worse:  knowing you didn’t love me anymore, or the realization that you may have never loved me.

 

 

 

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