Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

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How do you see me?

Others see you as fresh, lively, charming, amusing, practical, and always interesting; someone who’s constantly in the center of attention, but sufficiently well-balanced not to let it go to their head.  They also see you as kind, considerate, and understanding; someone who’ll always cheer them up and help them out.

That’s the “results” from the “How Do Others Perceive You” quiz I just took on Psych Central.  I can see that people would definitely see the traits in the first sentence in me, but I guess they don’t necessarily see the stuff in the second sentence in me.  Case in point, on Friday I asked my boss for a couple of hours off in the afternoon to go help a friend, whose husband died after being shot by a sniper in Afghanistan, with something she was doing for a non-profit she started in her husband’s name.  This non-profit is meant to help other soldiers and their families during times of crisis, or to help support them during deployments.

My boss comes to my desk in the morning and I tell him what time I am planning on leaving, and he chuckles, and tells me that I need to “just give it up”, because he knows that I am not being true to myself, because that’s not who I really am.  Not that I really give two shits what my boss thinks about me, because he obviously doesn’t know me, but this kind of hurt my feelings.  It also in turn got me wondering how others perceive me, and it started a lunch time discussion with my co-worker/friend.  She has told me her perception of me when she first met me–basically she thought I was a tough bitch that was quite unapproachable.  But, she says once she got to know me, she thinks I am quite humorous, intelligent, giving, and really need to work on the fact that I devalue myself so much when it comes to men.

What she says she sees in me, is pretty much the same picture I have of myself in my head.  At times I feel I am unapproachable, and I have a wall up when it comes to certain people.  Other times I feel like I am too open and let people in too easily, thereby allowing myself to be hurt–I seem to do this when it comes to men, and I’m not sure why.  Doesn’t make much sense that I would be open myself up with men I hardly know, when it is men who I have allowed to hurt me in the past.  Hmmm. . .much on that one Freud!!

Am I a kind person?  I don’t see myself as a kind person, but I do see myself as giving.  I have very little patience for people who have the ability to, but refuse to, help themselves, but I am more than willing to help those who can’t.  I don’t have a lot, but I am grateful that I have much more than many others have.

Am I intelligent?  I would like to think so, but maybe that’s not reality.  Sometimes I like to imagine that I really am smarter than I think I am.  I would like to think that I am currrently wasting a very intelligent brain by only having a bachelor’s degree and working as an office manager.  I have always wanted to work in a helping profession and feel like I am contributing something to society.  I think about returning to school all the time to get a master’s, so as not to “waste my good brain”.  Of course maybe the reality is that I am actually less intelligent than Cliff Clavin, even though I know many useless facts, and have a never-ending brain stash of song lyrics stored from as far back as 1972.

Am I humorous?  Totally.  I crack myself the fuck up.  I tend to make others laugh on a regular basis too, so I don’t think that’s an ill-conceived perception.

Am I talented?  I am the jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none.  I can do a lot of things well, but I don’t really feel as though I am exceptional at anything.  Guess you could call me half-assed.  🙂

Am I beautiful?  I guess that’s a matter of opinion.  Some days I think I look really good.  Other days. . . .you know how it goes.  Sometimes you just feel bloated and unloved.  I do think that I still look exceptionally good for my age.  Most people would guess I am about 8-10 years younger than I actually am, which I think is a good sign that I am sufficiently covering the grays and taking pretty good care of myself!  lol  I did have a 7 year old tell me yesterday that I look like I’m 18.  How cool am I??

What do I think of me as a total package?  I do think that I am a damn good catch, because I do have a lot of great qualities.  Do I have flaws?  Of course.  We all do.  We all have the baggage we carry from childhood, from previous relationships, from life in general.  Maybe that’s what people see of me–my baggage.  I can’t disguise it, I can’t deny it’s there.  Every step, every word, every experience, has made me what I am today.

But in the immortal words of The Breakfast Club. . . .

Saturday, March 24,1984. Shermer High School, Shermer, Illinois, 60062. Dear Mr. Vernon, We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. What we did *was* wrong. But we think you’re crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. What do you care? You see us as you want to see us – in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. You see us as a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess and a criminal. Correct? That’s the way we saw each other at 7:00 this morning. We were brainwashed.

 

So how do you see me?  Maybe you were brainwashed Dick Vernon.

 

 

 

Man-Scaping & Such

I am going to blame this post on Rebecca over at http://ladyornot.com.  She was talking about women bedazzling their guns the other night, and that led me to thinking about vajazzle, which led to wondering what kinds of strange stuff men might do with their nether regions.  Yeah, so blame it on the ADD.  My mind wanders!  🙂

Let’s start with the basic upkeep of the groin area–manscaping.  Urban Dictionary defines manscaping as such:  A term used to define male grooming below the belt. A male can use both an electric razor or a regular razor. A Mach 3 is preferable with the ladies on the testicular area. No female likes to deal with hairy balls, so men must education themselves on proper manscaping and maintenance techniques. 

I am so happy this has caught on in the male world.  I don’t mean to be crass, but if you happen to be a female who enjoys performing fellatio, present company included, you don’t want to have to be trying to do your best work with a face full of brillo pad!  Let me just also mention thatmanscaping will most likely make what you have look larger, which is probably an added bonus for some of you.  Was that a little dick joke?  Why yes, I believe it was.  Suffice it to say, if you can’t see the tree for forest, you better trim some shit up!

I did mention vajazzle up above, and so as not to seem sexist, I guess someone has decided it would be a good idea to what??  Penazzle!!  Yes, decorate your cock with jewels!!

No, you can’t just buy the bedazzler off the “As Seen On TV” site.  If you really want to get “Mr. Happy”, or “Mini Me”, or whatever you call him all decked out and ready to hit the town, I would suggest going to a professional.  Please don’t try some fake rhinestones and a glue gun either.  Ow!!  By the way, why does an image of Richard Simmons come up when you google “dick bedazzle”??

Other suggestions I have just read on making your man tool look better:

1.  “Fapping” with self-tanner.

2. Cock push-ups

3.  Start doing “the squeeze” a couple times a day

Hell, is this something men even sit around and think about?  I know it doesn’t really consume my day, but I knew I had to google this and see what came up, so I thought I would share my results with you.  Here’s my advice—keep the area clean, trimmed, and as long as you know how to use what’s down there, I think you’re probably in good shape!  😉

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kindred Spirits

I may stumble,

or falter,

But I will never fall again

because of a man.

I have withstood—

words spoke in anger,

infidelities,

lies,

being left while pregnant,

a lit cigarette put out on my face,

the threats of death if I should ever break free,

silence,

and all the rest of the fallout,

which I will carry the rest of my life.

I am strong—

not only because I feel I have to be,

but because I choose to be.

Does my past bother you?

It haunts me.

Stalking me and

Pouncing

When I least expect it.

Do you feel the same?

That there can never be peace?

That it will always find you?

Maybe we are more alike than you know.

 

Do you want the truth?

Do you want the truth or something beautiful?  Just close your eyes and make believe. . . .I am happy to deceive. . .I can be who you want me to be, but do you want me?

Hello Soul, Do I Know You?

Why do I feel the pull?

What is it that has led me to you

And you to me

And then away again?

It’s in my gut

The need to reach out,

To touch you,

To know your soul.

It seems so familiar to me.

Hello soul,

Have we met before?

I feel like I’ve known you for. . . .

Forever.

Is that what it feels like?

Love, I mean?

Because I’m not sure anymore.

Dirty Laundry

I hate election years.  Especially when my options leave me feeling like I would be voting for the lesser of two evils when it comes to the Democrats and the Republicans.  I am from a state that almost always casts their electoral votes for a Republican.  Seriously, since 1864, there are only a few years the votes have gone to any party other than the Republicans.  Does this indicate we’re not a progressive state?  Maybe a little.  Don’t get me wrong, I have numerous friends and family members who wouldn’t think of even nodding in the way of a Democrat, but that’s not me.  I have nodded at, and I have even voted for a couple of Democrats.  This year is going to be different though.

I am not overly impressed with Obama, and frankly, Romney scares the shit out of me.  I know both of them are basically puppets, with the hands of their respective parties shoved far enough up their asses, they can make their mouths says whatever they want them to, but I just can’t excuse them for that.  The petty bickering, the name calling, the mud-slinging and trash talking. . . .just done.  For fuck’s sake, these people are supposed to be educated grown-ups!!

So this year, I am giving my vote to a different party–the Libertarians.  Why, you may ask?  Because this country is going to hell in a hand-baske!.  We are quickly becoming a nation of simpering, ne’er do wells, many of whom only want a hand-out and not a hand-up.  Too many of us choose to sit back and bitch about change, but are too cowardly to do anything to try to bring change about.  Have we forgotten this is supposed to be a democracy?  At one time this country was built on principals, morals and freedoms.  Where have those ideals gone?  These things have occurred under the leadership of what?  Democrats and Republicans.  Somehow I don’t think this is the nation our founding fathers had in mind, do you?

I could go on and on about the reasons I think this country is falling apart, but I won’t.  What it comes down to is that I think we need a change.  I think we need to shake some shit up in this country.  I think we need to send a message to these politicians, that we are pissed off and we’re not going to stand by silently and allow them to drive this country into the ground!  Get off your ass, and go to the polls!  Rock that fucking vote people!!

In the immortal words of George Washington, remember—“An army of asses led by a lion is better than an army of lions led by an ass.”  

And if you’re interested in retaining your rights as individual, go check out the Libertarians platform:

http://www.lp.org/platform

 

Women, exercise  your right!

 

Sorry guys, but I know a free lap dance is an extremely good motivator for most of you!  😉

 

 

What About Me?

I think last night influenced my almost totally shitty today.  Why, you ask?  Because I can’t get past “what might have been”.  Technically it isn’t even about “what might have been”.  Sorry, I am sure you’re confused.  Me too!

Last night, my ex-husband and I took our son trick or treating.  I was going to let him go alone with our son, but since said son is almost 12 years old, this was most likely the last year for trick or treating, so I wanted to go along too.  It was me that took him the first time, so I felt it only fair that I was there for the last time too.  This was one of the only times, since our son was born,  that we actually did something together.  My ex and I are on pretty good terms, and work really hard to co-parent our son effectively.  We have had some bumps in the road, but most of the time we get along pretty well.

Well, all of the “family time”, led to me analyzing shit on the way to work this morning, and wondering about the “what might have been” stuff.  Don’t get me wrong–I do not want to be with my ex, and am happy that we are divorced, because I was miserable with him and he with me.  However, there is a little part of me, buried way down beneath the trash-talking, pole dancing, sex loving hot chick, that is Suzy Homemaker, and desires domesticity.  At least a little bit of domesticity, along with the love of an amazing man, tons of laughter, and lots of hot sex!  🙂

It totally perplexes me that I can’t seem to find this shit after 11  years of divorce!  I don’t understand it.  I seriously scream at the universe some days and ask, “What about me?”.  I am a good person and I deserve this!!  I have waited a long time for my big love, where in the fuck is it???  Why does it seem that the universe is telling me I’m not worthy?

I realize that life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans, but this is not where I expected to be at my age.  I didn’t expect to be fighting all of my battles solo, with no one else on my team.  I get so damn tired of doing it all alone.  When I get in this mood, this is the only song I can think about.

Mars and Venus, or is it Uranus and Venus??

So I get it, men and women have two different styles of communicating.   Women communicate and men don’t.   Okay, so that wasn’t exactly fair.  Let’s say men communicate long enough to get a woman hooked and then they’re done, and the woman is left wondering what happened to stop it.

Guys, be sure and chime in here if you think I’m wrong about this.  This is something which is quite perplexing to me and I am always up for learning more about the male mind and what makes it tick.  Let me just throw a scenario at you—new guy, been talking almost two weeks, finally met last Friday night.  We have touched on numerous subjects, and he has shared many, very personal things with me.  This surprised me at first because he was so open, but I can roll with it.  I tend to have that effect on people, and I figure the more comfortable he feels sharing things with me, the better off we are if this is headed towards “relationship” status.

Anyway, lots of personal information, seems very honest, etc, we meet last Friday night and the chemistry was all there in person too, and we even touched on being open to exploring a relationship.  I talked to him Saturday morning before he went to work, we texted a bit on Saturday night, I sent him a text on Sunday, to which I received no reply, and called him and left a message.  Basically, I haven’t heard from him since Saturday night.  I’m thinking WTF??  Is this normal?  We totally click, and agree on this fact, even in person all the chemistry is there.  (For those of you who internet date, you know that sometimes you can click over messages and texts, but have no chemistry in person.)

I am at a loss. I am now refusing to text him, or call him.   Yeah, I’m really tough like that.  Oh, hell!  Who am I kidding??  This guy seems so great that when he does get ahold of me, I will probably act like it’s no big deal that he hasn’t talked to me for days.  Which to him, maybe it isn’t a big deal.  Maybe he doesn’t think anything of it.  He does have an extremely demanding job, which he is on call for and usually only gets about 12 hours between shifts.  Friday he managed to not get called in, so he hopped in his truck and drove the hour and fifteen minutes to come meet me in person.  I am in no way making excuses, I just know how guys can be extremely one-track minded.

I do think this guy likes me and is interested in me, so why am I getting so freaked out by the lack of communication?  At my age I don’t really want someone up in my shit all the time, and I am sure he feels the same.  Plus, we aren’t officially dating at this point, so should I expect him to have daily contact??  Maybe I only expect the daily contact because I got that the first week.  Seriously, if I’m dating someone, then yes, I do expect to have daily contact with them.  But for now I think this thing is supposed to be casual, though I think if we were about 15 years younger, we would be so up this shit it would be unbelievable!!

I am going to attempt to play it cool.  He is aware I am quite interested in him, and I believe the feeling is mutual.  At this point what more can I do?  I have to stand back, let go of my control issues, and let him take the lead.  He is the man after all.  And what a huge, smokin’ hot, hunk of a man he is!! 😉

Like I said—please comment and let you know what you think!!  I would love to hear everyone’s opinions!

 

 

 

 

Strings and Things – A Bit of Rambling

What happened between then and now to make me this way? I was just thinking that I don’t remember ever worrying about whether my ex-husband, before he was my husband, would show up for something, or whether he would call. I am sure I got excited thinking about him calling, and even wished for him to call, but I don’t think I was anxious about it.

Something happened between then and now.  I would like to think if I figure out what happened, that I could change it, but I don’t know if I can.  My trust in men has been demolished.  I wonder if there’s a man in this world who is worthy of my trust.  How will I know if he’s worthy?  Maybe it’s just me.  Maybe, because I can’t seem to trust myself–my judgement, my reactions to certain situations–maybe I will always remain anxious.

I feel like a thread.  Pulled so tightly between two points.  There is barely any give on it when the wind hits with a gale force.  How can the string remain so taut for so long?

Why can’t I relax and let things progress at a natural pace?  We had a great first meeting, and all I can wonder is if he will end up cutting contact off with me.  Why is this one different?  Why does it constantly bring me to the verge of tears, or past the brink?  I would never want him to see me like this, so weak, so vulnerable.  Why did I open myself up to him the way I have?  What was it about him?  Other men may have had glimpses, but for him my heart is on my sleeve.  I am exposed and not comfortable with it.  I try to express my feelings to him, but get tongue-tied and feel like I’m not getting my point across.

I overanalyze.  I subject myself to what-ifs, and make up shit in my head when I don’t know what the reality is.  Oh god, what is he thinking?

Sing. . . .

My body tells a story.

Every scar, every wrinkle, every stretch mark, every tattoo, every gray hair,

Reminds me of who I am and where I have come from.

It tells me that once I was a daredevil on roller skates and a bike,

That I have laughed millions of times, and that my face has been salted by tears.

It shows the marks of a mother’s love,

one whom I have had the pleasure of loving intensely and close-up,

and another from far away who will never understand the limits of my love.

See my love for nature, and my birthplace, and one of the most beautiful flowers I know because of its wildness and simplicity?

And my longing for water because it soothes the turbulence in me?

See my desire for flight from all that binds my soul?  My longing to cast off others’ ideas about me and my quest to be beautiful in my own right and to love freely?

My need to feel balance in my life which seems so off-kilter at times because of my intense passions?

Oh, and there’s that graying hair,

Peeking through the fiery red I have applied which represents my personality so well.

I will never let the world see my true age, at least in my hair, because I feel younger than my 43 years.

Do you see my story?

Look closely.

My body?

It sings my song. . . .

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