Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Archive for the tag “birthday”

You Say It’s Your Re-Birthday? It’s My Re-Birthday Too!

3 years. 3 years? You’ve got to be shitting me! I rarely stick with anything for 6 months, let alone a year, and WP just notified me I’m having an anniversary. I prefer to call it a birthday though. More appropriately, I think I should call it my “re-birthday”.

I started this blog hoping to set some thoughts free. I thought if I put them into cyberspace that maybe they could sort of metaphorically be flung into the universe and I could be free of them.

But what really happened is that there was a coming together of like-minded people. A meeting of soul sisters, and some soul brothers, who came to read my rants and ramblings, and stayed to support me through trials and tribulations.

More often than not, this blog has nurtured me. It’s given me food for my soul delivered by my fellow bloggers. Some days when I thought I would starve, I came here and found a table laid with a feast by all of you. You gave me the morsels and nuggets I’ve needed to get through the last 3 years, and for that I want to say thank you. I can only hope that I may have touched your lives in some way, and possibly even given you a bit of strength or hope to get through a crappy day or maybe even two.

I don’t know what’s going to happen to this blog over the next 3 years. It’s going to go through some changes, and it has already branched out to include a separate poetry blog. Frankly, I don’t know if it will survive another 3 years. Maybe I don’t need it to survive another 3 years, and maybe I do. Only time will tell.

I get so frustrated with it at times. I get frustrated with myself for not writing enough, for not reading enough, for having such inconsistent stats! And then I try to remember why I came here in the first place.

I came here to heal. I didn’t know it at the time, but that’s what drew me here. I had stopped writing about 6 years, and it was killing me. I was drowning in thoughts and feelings and ideas and stories and poems. This was my life raft.

And as luck would have it, not only did my albeit bumpy WordPress path lead me to personal insight and growth, it also led me to My Man, and him to me. To me our relationship is nothing short of a miracle, it’s such a good fit. He gets me. Finally, someone gets me, and he loves me in spite of it. Or because of it, I’m not quite sure which. I just know I thank the universe for him every day.

Today, I’m spending a special shout out to all of you. You know who you are, all you damn fat bottom girl stalkers! Thanks for being there!

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Party Cake Party Cake

Photo Credit: 24.media.tumblr.com

Photo Credit: 24.media.tumblr.com

 

You baked me a fucking cake??  Do I look like I NEED a fucking cake??  Fuck the cake and bring me another Jack and Coke.  And run out and get me another pack of smokes while you’re at it!

 

**On a side note, I feel miserable and bloated, as a medication has really thrown me for a loop.  I feel like this gal looks.  Happy Fucking Tuesday Fat Bottom Peeps!!

Birthday Presents from the Heart

I think I was 8. The age doesn’t matter.

I ran downstairs, excited at the prospect of my birthday present.

My mom was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, smoking a Marlboro Light. She looked up and saw my grin and excitedly told me Happy Birthday!!

My gift was laying on the table and she told me to open it. I knew it was clothes just by the feel.

I ripped the paper off and unfolded a dream!

They were perfect!! Light blue, brushed denim bell bottoms with embroidered butterflies. They took my breath away. Every last stitch made with love by my mother.

It’s one of my best birthday present memories ever.

And now I have another best birthday present memory to add to it.

It also took my breath away.

My Man wrote me a poem. It’s not his normal style of writing, but he ventured there for me.

It was beautiful, constructed of his feelings in meter, and it made me cry. My Man said it wasn’t supposed to make me cry.

But they were happy tears. They were tears that said My Man knows my heart, and he speaks to my soul.

I think I was almost 45. The age doesn’t matter.

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