When one’s butt is bigger than one’s pants

When one’s butt is bigger than one’s pants

Witty repartee aside, having a big ass is a difficult thing to contend with. Period.

Having a big ass is an especially egregious offense when inbetween sizes and in the process of making one’s ass smaller, but still sitting squarely in the camp of bah-BAM! This is in no way a slam on small bootied girls, and in no way a social commentary on our standards of beauty. (more…)

The day closes

The day closes

And I am afraid to close my eyes. I sleep in fits and starts, intervals of peaceless awake. Peaceless asleep. Terrors imagined, terrors past, terrors not to come dance in a sickening ballet in technicolor. My dreams, a bloody stageshow. (more…)

Things that can’t shake loose

Things that can’t shake loose

The odd amber color of his eyes. The way they didn’t focus when he grabbed fistfulls of my hair and made me tell him I loved him. The first slide of the knife. How I left my body, and floated above. How I begged him not to get blood on the dress that my mother had worked overtime to pay for. The sickening crunch of my knee when it made contact with the pipe from the sink, the way my dancing shoe left a mark on his cheek when I raised my leg and kicked him. (more…)

Saving a heart

Saving a heart

She is brilliant and funky, and edgy and funny. She has high blood pressure. She is young.

It’s no secret that the world we live in is more fast paced than ever before. That we face special pressures, unseen before. That we eat on the run, drink our fair share of caffeine and don’t always find time to take care of ourselves the way we should. (more…)

Of corsets and butterflies

Of corsets and butterflies

I was standing, uncomfortably, in a rubber corset. It was laced so tight that I was able to feel all 52 of the grommets which held the black ribbon across my back, dig into my ribs. Breathing was an event.

I don’t think my breasts had ever been so close to my chin. (more…)

a mighty conglomerate of bridge trolls

a mighty conglomerate of bridge trolls

“Your ads are annoying. I don’t know why you bother. It’s not like you are a real writer.”

All hail the mighty 2 am internet troll. The anonymous (or not so, you little ip leaver, you) nasty note leaving, bastard ass hiding deep under the bridge troll. The squirrely little shitface of a troll, the kind that hunts and pecks the keyboard in an effort to swirl up the nastiest and most hurtful of comments, tucked back deep into an old post so as to escape the sharp eyes of my commenters. (more…)

In search of self

In search of self

Through this process of therapy has come a series of moments, of which I didn’t expect. Moments of intense and unabashed heartbreak. Moments of laughter and discovery. Moments of clarity. Moments of confusion.

There have been several times, as I am sure there will be several more, where the blinders have been ripped off. Where I stand, naked and shaking in the brightest sun. Secrets totally stripped, and I am lain bare. Where there is nothing but the truest essence of what I am, flayed open. Begging for acceptance and expecting nothing but the worst. (more…)

This feeling in the pit of my *scuse me*

This feeling in the pit of my *scuse me*

So I am a girly girl. I love make up. I have a vast collection of saucy high heels, I love a pointy boot and I wear perfume.

I have impeccable manners, wear lipstick like a champ and have a hair dryer AND a diffuser. I paint my nails (hands and toes, thankyouverymuch) with OPI. I love MAC. I am a soprano and I use lotion like a madwoman, I love sparkly things. Butterflies. Fairies. (more…)

I don’t know what I expected

I don’t know what I expected

I don’t know if I expected to awaken, enlightened. I don’t know if I expected to feel as though the work I am doing for myself is enough, simply because I am finally caring enough to do it. I don’t know if I expected to sudden love my body, my heart, my soul.

I don’t know if I expected to fall in love with my pillowy hips, with my exaggerated curves, with my nose which never quite seemed to fit my face. I don’t know if I expected to forget feeling like a worthless piece of shit. If I expected to forget being told that very thing. I don’t know if I expected to roll over as he slept, and be filled with feeling worthy of him. (more…)

The kindness of strangers

The kindness of strangers

In fairness, I don’t suppose we’re strangers. In fairness, I suppose if you have stumbled upon me here, in one way or another you know me as well as many in my day to day.

In fairness, just because we haven’t met, I don’t suppose we’re really strangers. I realize I take risks by putting myself out there, in this forum. I realize it seems brave, or honest or big. It may be some of those things, or none of those things, or all of those things. It may be foolhardy to expose these tender secrets to the prying eyes of people I don’t know. (more…)