Surviving Christmas and Trying to Stay Out of Jail...

I LOVE my family...
Anybody who knows me, knows that they are the center of my world.
But I am on the verge of loosing my mind....

There is a situation going on with a member of my family that is driving me crazy.
It isn't right...it wasn't the way we were raised, and he's completely ignorant, arrogant, and disrespectful, but nobody is doing anything about it.
I want to just take people and shake the sense back into them.
Some I just want to punch in the nose or kick in the nuts...and having to smile and pretend that everything is hunky dory is driving me crazy...

Case in point...a certain person who hasn't lifted a finger to help us with the holidays just said he wants me to give him a massage as a Christmas present.
I want to scream!!!
All I want to do is tell him where he can stick his massage, but I can't because that's not having the "holiday spirit"...neither is acting like a jackoff but nobody says anything to him!

and yes...i am PMSing which isn't helping me control the beast that wants to rip peoples heads off with my teeth, but this shit drives me crazy even when I'm completely hormonally balanced...lol

On a lighter less violent note...lol...I was able to use the Christmas money I got to buy my mother a gift.
Since not being able to work, I haven't been able to give her anything for the past two years, but after getting some money from my father for Christmas, I decided to use it on her and get her a much needed winter coat. But not just any coat, a Eddie Bauer WeatherEdge® Superior Down Parka. Warmest coat they had and the best thing is that Eddie Bauer coats last for years.
I got one for myself a few years back when I gained too much weight for my coats and it was the best investment I ever made. Especially now that I've lost all this weight, it may be too big, but I couldn't care less cause it's roomy and warm. I call it my bear skin...lol
My only wish is that it were longer, but otherwise it's perfection in a coat.

My family has given me soo much and has been such an amazing support for me but even more so since I got sick. To give back to them, even a little, is better then any superficial gift I could get for myself.
I know this is gonna sound crazy...but I can't wait till I'm strong enough to work. Then I can help and buy them all kinds of things...:)

I truly am blessed with the crazy people I call family and maybe thinking about that will keep me from killing the one or two bad apples we have stinking up the house.
but for those who are not family...I will hold no quarter!!...lol

So...Merry Chirstmas Everyone....
and Stay out of Jail...LOL!

(The amazing photo above is by adddieb1, Photobucket, and is directly linked)

Thank GOD I'm NOT Brainwashed/My Small Thoughts on Dating...

What the hell!
I can't stop feeling bad about having to end things with this guy. Like I made a mistake, but I know I didn't.
 I know it was the right choice, but have you ever felt like someone was meant to be in your life, one way or another, but maybe not in the way you originally thought.

Lately I have been having a lot of premonition type/deja vu esk moments, and a lot of them have been when dealing with this guy. I believe when you have moments like that, it means your on the right road, that it's confirmation that things are going the right way. I had a real strong moment like that when I headed to his house, when I met his mother, when I hung with him, it was eerie actually, stronger then any other moment I've ever had. But I've been having a lot of moments like that lately since I started school.
So I hope that I can stay connected to him as a friend, because every instinct tells me I have to.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was once confused as to what to look for when deciding to date.
I went through all the confusing superficial things that all women go through, but I learned something important.
When your with a true potential, you get the flutter in your chest and in your lower belly.
It may take more then one date to find it, but if it's right it will be there.
The flutter in your lower belly usually means lust, which is great (and fun...lol), but it can be fickle and can lead you astray.
Its the flutter in your chest that you need to look for and pay attention to.
If you have the flutter in your chest and it warms when near your companion, it means that somehow that person has touched your heart. Even if they end up not being "the one", being with them, how ever brief or badly it might end, will teach you something that will bring you closer to the one you are meant to be with, just don't give up.
When someone touches your heart it's a profound thing, but ultimately you have the choice whether the change will be for the better or for the worse.

(Photo by asdxx, Photobucket and directly linked)

It's Official...Thundercat Guy is out of the Picture...

So...I had to do something today I've never done before.
I had to send a "Dear John" letter to Geekcano.

I hate ending things in an email...like some coward...but he didn't give me any other choice...

I just couldn't deal with it anymore.
Not only was he sabotaging his schooling and for lack of a better word "dropped out" of the program (though he kept saying he's going to go back and do better...right...), he was also acting like a 16 year old.

As it was, I wasn't seeing him because he wasn't coming to class, but then on the last day, the day of the awards ceremony, I find out his phone had been turned off.
Ok...no big deal but he didn't bother giving me a heads up on that until after I sent a tun of texts and finally a worried email. If I hadn't had his email address I wouldn't have been able to contact him at all.

Then after all that, I go a whole weekend without hearing from him, even though he said he'd be checking his email so we could keep in touch. It was like all of a sudden he went from practically harassing me to not caring enough to check an email. If your busy then fine, tell me, but leaving me in the dark...yet again...come on...I don't even do that to people who are my friends. Then finally on Monday I get a email from him like nothing happened telling me he wants me to come over...Talk about the straw that broke the camels back.

That was it. I'd had enough.
I don't know much about relationships...but this smells all too much like a game and I HATE games.
In case you don't know what I mean...it's the kinda games where you wait 3 days before calling someone so they think your not interested then when u do call they'll be all eager to please...that kinda shit...
I hated that stuff when I was a teenager and even more now that I'm an adult. It's a immature and stupid way to start a relationship with someone.

One second this guy is making me feel like I'm the best thing that's ever happened to him, and then the next I feel like he doesn't really care about me at all. I realized the only time he bothered talking to me was when he wanted something.
I mean fuck...he didn't even show concern over me traveling late. He was only concerned when I was going out, then all of a sudden he wanted to know the who, what, where, and when.

The messed up part is that he's a nice guy. He really does have an innocence to him and a lot of the qualities I'm looking for, but unfortunately he's just too immature for me.
I hate that I might have hurt him, but I just couldn't stay in it anymore.

There were plenty of superficial reasons for me to stay with him. He's good looking, sexy, could have taken me places, shown me new things, I could have had a date for New Years (which would have been a first...lol) and I wouldn't have the drama next semester that I'm now gonna have when I get back to school.
But all of this shit isn't important. What mattered was that I was going through an emotional  roller coaster with him and I wasn't happy.

I can't stand woman who play games and men even less. Maybe that's why most of the guys I've dated have been honest to a fault.
Granted... it isn't easy dating an honest guy, especially when they say something that you really don't want to hear...but if you find one that can balance honesty with compasion, it's one of the best things in the world.

I don't know...maybe he was sabotaging his thing with me just like he was with his schooling, so he wouldn't have to make a choice. I knew he was still hung up on his ex, so maybe he wasn't ready to move on but wanted his cake too...
Whatever the reason, I guess I'm gonna have to keep looking, cause unless this guys grows up, he ain't it...

(Photo by Photobucket and directly linked...just something I found beautiful yet dark)

So the Fall Semester is Over...with a Few Surprises...

Today was our final day of classes. But instead of class they had an awards ceremony, where they give out certificates of completion as well as special awards...

When I arrived I noticed the tables all laid out with little booklets. Within these booklets were the works of different students, and to my surprise I found my name.
They had published the essay I had written to the PM coordinator!...
Yep...You know I freaked out a bit.
I mean...my work...out their to be judged by others....yeesh...talk about stomach upset, but yet... there it was...a tiny part of me printed in black & white and that made me kinda proud.
It wasn't till later when they asked the authors to read there work out loud that I got into trouble.

I was perfectly happy sitting there, letting other people read there work. I had NO intention of standing  in front of a podium and reading my very personal words to a room of mostly strangers. I hated the spotlight... it always made me nervous...and though my classmates were poking me to go up there and even my teachers were asking if I was going to read, I was confident in fact that there was no way in hell I was going on stage, but that all went out the window when the lead speaker was asking for more volunteers and the "boys" decided to volunteer me.

I'm just sitting there, minding my own business, playing with my phone, when I hear
"Hay!!...She'll do it!!" "Yea...we got one here...She'll read".
Frozen, I pretended I didn't know what was going on, that was until I herd the guys who I thought were my friends chant my name. I look up and there they are, their fingers pointing at me in front of smiling devious faces.
The whole room was looking at me.
So even though I wanted to scream I bravely smiled back at everyone, shaking my head no. Then the lead speaker joined in with the calling of my name as did others in the crowd, so I covered my face with the booklet, but they wouldn't stop.
Finally out of desperation and not knowing what to do, I mimed that I had lost my voice, cupping my throat  and looking up at the ceiling (yes...I mimed), but people just laughed. Score one for being funny... but it was too late, yet... for a split second.... I still thought about slipping under the table and pretending to be invisible, or pretending I had Touretts and yell out profanities...
No one would make someone like that read...right??
The guys had worked up the room and I was hearing my name everywhere.
Finally one of them actually got up and pulled me out of my chair. I tried to make my ass stick to the chair like glue, tried desperately to make gravity my friend and pretend I had the mass of the moon holding me down, but to no avail. The moment he dragged me to my feet, I had no choice.

With teeth clenched and my eyes blind to anything but the podium I marched up to the stage. I walked for what seemed like forever but as I passed "the boys" I loudly proclaimed that I was going to kill them.
Not the best move on my part considering the amount of legal witnesses who snickered at my outburst...lol...but this is what I get for being the only female friend in a group if guys.

Finally standing before the podium, I thought my head was going to explode with every new heart pound. But steeling myself as best as I could, I sucked in a breath and picked up the mic.

My piece was long and I told everyone if they wanted to nap, now was the time. That got a few laughs which helped me relax a bit.
It was easy at first. I found my rhythm and I could hear people responding to my work with hushed comments. I believe I spoke clearly even though every p and b uttered into the mic sounded like muffled gunfire.
Then as time wore on, my mouth became dry and sticky as I realized my piece dithered on a bit.
Ok...not a bit.....a LOT.
I was bored reading my own work! and realizing this, my nerves began to beat me from the inside out.
But as I'm reading, willing myself to get to the end I notice that the last few paragraphs seem different. That's when I realize it's because those aren't supposed to be the last paragraphs...the rest of my work is missing!!

I completely panic...

I didn't know what to do or say... but luckily my self preservation instinct kicked in and making a joke of it, I tell everyone the rest of my work isn't printed, and I gratefully end my torture in friendly yet awkward applause.
It wasn't till that moment, the moment I was standing there thanking the head speaker for allowing me the opportunity to completely embarrass myself, that I saw it...

The rest of my freaken essay was on the next page!!
and I made the mistake of saying it out loud.....ugg God!

So now I got some people yelling for me to finish, while the head speaker is trying to nicely shoo me off the stage. So I take his cue, and shimmy my completely embarrassed ass off stage as fast as I could.
Sure, all the boys gave me high fives as I passed them back to my seat and sure, they said I did great, but what else are they gonna say. It was the least they could do after dragging my ass over there. I wanted to bury my head in the sand.

It was printed. I hadn't seen it in my panic and my need to finish, but it was there...staring at me...laughing at me from it's comfy little page.
Granted it was printed as if it were a completely different piece, with a artfully black and white picture above it, and yes...part of it was in italic for no discernible reason, so I had plenty of good reasons for why I didn't notice it....but all those little reasons didn't matter.
I left the stage feeling like a complete idiot. The main point of my verbal diarrhea got left untold, so it ended up sounding like long ass list of crap I did in Cancun. I sounded like a self righteous egotistical moron.

What a waste...

I found the courage to read, to stand tall in my own personal version of hell, only to be thwarted by my own work...lol
Oh well...at least I can say did it. Yes...I will probably worry about what people thought. Hell I'm doing it right now, but maybe everyone will have some sort of short term memory loss...lol

After my debacle, they handed out the completion certificates, and the student awards. My name was called for my certificate and to my surprise it was called again for an award...
I was awarded the "Best Overall Student Award"...so you know that settled it...
I am now...officially to everyone there, a COMPLETE Dork...and a self important kiss ass...

Oh Boy!!...but it does go to show...no matter what age you are when your in school...mortification is still the name of the game...lol

(Picture above of the last two pages of my essay/story and how it was printed...)

This Woman has Kept me from going CRAZY!!

Her name is Robyn...:)
I've been listening to her almost everyday and she's kept me calm...
Thanks GOD for music...lol

Guilt tripping...and Weatherstripping...

Ok...WTF!!!
I'm tired but I got to get this shit off my chest.

I met this dude at school...already blogged about him, but he's got an annoying habit that I'm not going to be able to handle much longer...

He's a guilt tripper...
Yes...that thing that women (mothers in particular) are notorious for, except in my world the men are the kings of this ancient art of manipulation.

Why me??
What the hell did I do to deserve this crap??

Every time I get on the phone with this guy, he wants me to come over. He will start the sentence off with "I don't mean to be selfish" which indicates exactly what he's about to do, then tries to guilt me into coming over to his house.
At first he'll start with how he misses seeing me, misses hanging with me, then he'll try the "you must not like me the way I like you otherwise you'd be here"...I mean really?? Is he for real??...lol

On Thanksgiving, his family doesn't do anything, but I told him mine does and that I'd be very busy.
Ok...to any sane person that means I can't talk. Him calling once would have been fine, but he called me three, or four times, and again he kept trying to get me to come over to his house after I finished with my family. WTH!...Even when I did get home at 1am he wanted me to come over.

Dude doesn't care that I'm tired, or that it's late and it's not exactly safe for a woman to be riding the trains at 1am... No... he wants me to come over. He acts like a flipping 5 year old!

Now recently he got sick and has been home. Now I know what it's like being sick, hell I can write a book on sick, and he may actually be sick, but he ain't dying...
Still he's staying home from work, and missing school, so he's bored. What do you think happens when I call him to see how he is?
Boom, the question again..."Mami come over...I miss you... I need you"...HA!

Now let me explain something. I am a naturally empathetic person. I feel for people, even those I don't know, but the moment you try to guilt me into doing something you want, any compassion I had for you flips to annoyed anger in a second.

I don't like being manipulated.
My father (with whom I have a strained relationship as is) likes to use guilt, saying I don't call him enough. But one of the reasons I don't call him is because he tries to guilt me into doing it.

The quickest way to get me to do the opposite of what you want, is to manipulate me into doing it.
Plain and simple...
I will help you out, I will go out of my way to do something for you if you really need me. But if your being selfish don't fucking try this shit on me...just pisses me off.
Funny thing is, I was planning on seeing him this week before going to class, just to make sure he was ok. But every time I talk to him, he tries to guilt me and it just pisses me off so I stay home. Last thing I want is for him to think that shit works, otherwise I'll never get him to stop.

I don't know about the other women this guy dated, whether his tactics worked on them, whether he's used to being catered to, and I'm being told his behavior may be partially a cultural thing, but if this guy really wants to date me...he needs to take a crash course in Me 101 (deal breakers) cause there are just somethings that I'm NOT ok with...

(Photo by jtvlove, Photobucket and is directly linked)

When is it Ok to Swear...

When you find out that you've just gone through a month or more of classes that you were not supposed to be in. Classes that are actually too easy for you...
FUUUUUCK!!

So here's what happened...
We took our midterms...and when I had to go down to get my grades they
-First...Couldn't find them in the computer...
-Second...When they did find them...they were in the wrong place...
-Third... Couldn't give me any information about how I did other then some random numbers they wrote on a posted because they couldn't find my original scores from my entrance exam...

Ok.. that pissed me off and I vented quite a bit when I got home...
So the next day I decided that I would head back to the office to find out what the "mysterious posted note numbers" actually meant...
A very nice woman helped me out...and explained the numbers and what scores I actually got...
But while she was showing me my reading test numbers...she pointed out that on my entrance exam I got the highest score you could get...
In other words a PERFECT SCORE IN READING!!!!!!

So...very calmly...trying very hard to keep myself from exploding and strangling the poor girl....I asked
"Should I be in the classes I'm in?...
"No...but if you wanna change you can"...
(a look of dumb shock flickered across my face)...
After a few blinks and still holding back the raging animal within, I squeezed one last question past my tight lips...
"Isn't it a bit late to transfer now that we're near the end of the term?...I mean the finals are only two weeks away..."
"Um...yea" she said with a sorry look on her face...

I couldn't be mad at her...I just couldn't....at least she tried to help...it was the others...all those other people that I wanted to throttle...including their grand leader Ms. Stick Up Her Rectum Coordinator.
I mean...what the hell is she actually coordinating... Most of the people working under her look like deer in headlights whenever u ask them the simplest question...

So I left the office pissed but at the same time relieved and in a state of acceptance.
At least I wasn't crazy about my reading skills, and at least being in a lower class helped me build some much needed confidence. I got to meet some great teachers I would have missed meeting otherwise, and some good people too.
So all in all everything worked out for the best...
But we'll see if I need a punching bag when finals come around....sheesh...

(Photo by nerd_by_proxy, Photobucket and directly linked.)

Cancun: I Wanna Go BACK!!!..........

That was...by far...one of the greatest trips I've had in my life...and I've been to Hawai!!....
The trip went off without a hitch...that is...until I left.

Got to the airport in plenty of time. Got through security quickly and without problems, plane took off on time and we even got to Cancun early.
But from the moment I got off the plane everything got better...
The air smelled good, even though it smelled hot and sweaty, it made me feel good.
The colors seemed surreal. As if artificially over saturated . The resort (The Royal Cancun) was amazing, the staff were wonderful, and the food, which was included, was fantastic.

The ocean was warm, the sand wasn't too hot, and at night, I had never seen so many stars. I even got to see another shooting star. It was like the universe was welcoming me home....
I even had energy to do things. Granted it wasn't like I was cured, I still had to pace myself, but I felt freer. I even started to speak more Spanish, as if my mental block was melting away.

The place was inspiring. A paradise... I mean...we even saw a double rainbow...Come ON!!!

Everything and I mean everything was as if it were meant to be, and God only knows what I could have accomplished if I had stayed there for more then a week.
I wanted to be a squatter in that hotel. I never wanted to leave....and I don't think the Mayan spirits wanted me to leave either cause it wasn't till we started to go, that I ran into problems.

Woke up with a headache, left my jacket and keys at the hotel, and the further I got from Cancun the worse I felt, so that by the time I got back to NY, I felt tired and sick. Even my skin seems to dry up. I was like a plant taken away from it's natural environment. Kinda freaky if you ask me...

All I know is that, I will forever remember this trip as being the best of my life...and I hope I get to go back again...soon...I hope...lol...

Running My Ass Off: Cancun Here I Come!!!....:-)

So the clock has finally wound down.... I have a day or two left before I leave and it almost doesn't feel real.

I can't wait to see, smell, and swim in the ocean. I don't feel rejuvenated unless I get to a beach at least once a year.... and a tropical beach is even better :-)) To lay out on the beach and soak up some vitamin D, sounds soo good right now, especially since my very bones are cold.
I'm especially happy with the progress I've made with my weight loss, but being the hard ass that I can be with myself, I know I could have done better...lol

I have now lost a Total of 35 pounds even with the stresses of starting school, and I feel pretty freaken good about it. I've changed my life for the better and reversed 2 years of weight gain. I've almost reached my first goal and I'm ecstatic, but I still got a ways to go.
I want to loose a total of 63 pounds, but I figured 53 pounds is a great start, and it'll let me see how far I really have to go. Last thing I want to do is loose too much weight. I mean I love my curves...lol...but being as short as I am, with arthritic knees, means the less pressure I put on them the longer they'll last...kinda like breaks on a car...lol

I know that getting this far required me to finally make the choice to change my life, and I am proud of that, but I can't take all the credit. If it weren't for my Ex... inspiring me to change my life, I don't know where I'd be right now.
He helped me to see that I was worth it. That I was worth fighting for, even if all I was doing was fighting with myself....lol. He saw my potential and didn't want me to waste it. He saw me...just me...
We may be on different paths now, but I will forever be indebted to him for the change he has brought into my life. I hope that one day he will see himself the way I saw him, and change "somewhat"...;-) how he views himself, so that he can finally be happy. He truly deserves it....
But no matter what, that "Asshole" will always have a special place in my heart...lol

(Photo by sockhead67 from Photobucket and directly linked)
(Ticker from Tickerfactory.com)

New Situation....New Perspective...

This blog is going to sound completely conceded...but I don't know how else to put it...

---------------------

These classes have put me in a situation I've never been in before.
I'm actually popular...
Yea...go figure...that little old me...who bucks traditional views, living a predominantly anti-social lifestyle, is now one of the popular kids in class...lol
When did hell freeze over?

Granted, I know that this has happened mostly because I'm an attractive woman in a program that's predominantly full of Men, and men are led by there dicks (sorry guys), so when the pickings are slim, you go for what you can get. But when you think about it, that's no different then any school. The popular girls are usually the ones that the guys want to fuck, so I'm under no misconceptions as to why I'm getting this attention and what the ultimate goal of most of these guys are. I understood it long before I even thought of taking these classes, since it's one of the main reasons I stayed fat.

(...Fat was safe, fat helped me blend in to the background, fat made me invisible, at least somewhat. Now that the weight is coming off, I feel like I've been put under a spotlight, and the more weight I loose, the brighter the light gets...)

But getting back to my point, what I realized is that it's not just happening because of the way I look, but because of who I am....

These guys are actually attracted to the fact that I'm "different"!
That I'm not the diva, full of drama, or someone's baby mama...lol...but smart, single, and unique. They like the confidence I have in myself and I find that funny because I only started to find that within myself recently.
When did guys start liking girls like me?
What...are the short and heavy nerdy girls who dress conservatively, with chipped nail polish, and little to no makeup, in style now?

I mean I got hit on first day of class, and it has yet to stop.
These guys are actually cock blocking one another just to talk to me...and I have to be honest... it's flattering, but it's also incredibly uncomfortable, odd, and nerve racking.
One guy who I nicknamed "Gumby" (don't ask me why...can't remember...lol) actually asked me out. But instead of just saying I wasn't interested (which is what I should have done), I told him I had a boyfriend.

I mean...he's a nice guy and all, but we had nothing in common, and from our one way conversations I could tell he had no real interest me or anything I was interested in.
He would meet me after almost every class and was one of those people who talk at you rather then to you. The kind of guy who wants to "hook you up" with all kinds of stuff, and wants you to know just how knowledgeable they are about everything, but with time show how little they really know. I realized later after listening to him that he was a lot like one of my Ex's... a little too much like him actually.

Needless to say, since that moment Gumby's been distant...which is fine. I guess since I ain't giving it up to him, he ain't interested anymore, but I already knew he was only interested in one thing, so I'm not all broken up about it. But the moment he took off, another one took his place and it's this guy I'm having a dilemma with...because against my better judgment I'm beginning to like him.

At the beginning I noticed him because he was Dominican and there was a joke going around about how many of them we had in class, but after that I didn't pay much attention.
Then I had to work with him in a group. He took charge but was confused, moved too fast, and didn't listen to the directions. So I actually had to take charge of the group...yep little quite shy me had to take charge, which I hate doing because I hate the spotlight. But surprisingly he was gracious and allowed me to take the reins when he realized he misunderstood the assignment....which I didn't expect. So my first impression of him was full of confused frustration.

The turning point for me came when I decided to wear my new Thundercat tee a friend bought me at Comic Con. After class he noticed it and asked me if I knew the symbol or if I was just wearing it as a popular "fashion thing". Offended that anyone would think that of me, I proudly shared my knowledge of the show and where I had gotten the tee.

You would have thought I had dropped a bomb on his head. He looked at me as if he were meeting a human unicorn and told me, with a big smile on his face, that we so needed to talk. After that he wouldn't let me out of his sight and we talked...a lot. I was the first girl he had ever met who liked the things he did (so I nicknamed him Geekano) and with every new revelation, he just grew happier. To my surprise it was contagious and I found myself smiling and laughing with him. Everything I told him about myself seemed to blow his mind. He was intrigued by me and I was intrigued by him, fully enjoying every moment, so when he asked for my number I only hesitated for a second.
He has yet to call me, but since that day if he comes to class, he always finds me, and after class he never fails to wait for me so we can talk as we leave campus.

It wasn't until the other day that I saw it becoming a problem.
While in class I actually got a little jealous when he left me to talk to another female classmate who he was friendly with.
I mean...what the Hell is that!!
What is wrong with me? and when did I become the possessive type?
So I took a good look at myself, at my behavior, and realized a few things.
I think about him way too much and actually look forward to going to class so I can talk to him again.
When the hell did that happen?

I've only starting talking to this guy about two weeks ago... and I don't know if my feelings are related to the fact that he makes me feel beautiful and special, or if there's something more to it, something more that's drawing us together. I know part of me is still hung up on my ex. I care about him so much it hurts inside, but he's doing what he needs to do for him. Shouldn't I be doing the same?

I don't know...about any of this. I don't have any answers. I don't know what I'm gonna do or even if I want to do it.
What I do know is that though I've decided to live my life in the moment, nothing is going to keep me from continuing along my path.
My goals haven't changed, nor has my focus. I will enjoy each day as it comes, each moment I'm given. I will embrace those who help me, guide me, and inspire me, but I wont let anyone distract me from my goals.
No matter how intriguing they are....

(Photos provided by Photobucket...and are directly linked)

Why I love Amy...

He left no time to regret
Kept his dick wet
With his same old safe bet
Me and my head high
And my tears dry
Get on without my guy
You went back to what you knew
So far removed from all that we went through
And I tread a troubled track
My odds are stacked
I'll go back to black

We only said good-bye with words
I died a hundred times
You go back to her
And I go back to.....

 

 For you I was a flame
Love is a losing game
Five story fire as you came
Love is a losing game

While I wish I'd never played
Oh what a mess we made
And now the final frame
Love is a losing game

Played out by the band
Love is a losing hand
More than I could stand
Love is a losing hand

Self professed... profound
Till the chips were down
...know you're a gambling man
Love is a losing hand

Though I'd bet on blind
Love is a faith resign
Memories mar my mind
Love is a faith resign

Over futile odds
And laughed at by the gods
And now the final frame
Love is a losing game

My baby Duke passed away on Monday...

I've been so busy lately with school and life that I haven't been able to sit down to blog. But yesterday was a bad day and I need to get this off my chest.

I knew there was a chance when I left on Friday that my little boy Duke (seen on the right) might not make it over the weekend and I was almost right.
He had been steadily ditererating over that last few weeks and I braced myself for the possibility that when I got home on Sunday, he wouldn't be here. But he was...barely.

He couldn't walk anymore, his breathing was labored, I could tell his kidneys had shut down, and he could barely meow. All he could do was lay there, only lifting his head to drink and shifting his weight. But I could tell he was still somewhat himself when he tried to get on my stomach while I lay next to him on the floor, it's just that his body just wouldn't let him.

Mom was distraught and I found myself having to be the strong one, when all I really wanted to do was break down. Being as broke as we are, our choices were limited, but the next day, when Duke started to cry out every time he tried to drink, we knew what we had to do. Mom called my uncle and he took care of the money so we could take Duke to the vet to be euthanized.
I had school that night but I wasn't going to let my mother do this alone. I've lost pets before, but most of the time it had been quick. I never saw them die. My mother on the other hand has been through this many times, but it wasn't any easier for her.

I was worried we were doing the wrong thing. Who were we to determine when he should die. But when I looked in his eyes, I saw how his eyes would glaze then focus and I knew he was already on his way out.
I told myself that no matter what, I'd see this through to the end. If your going to have pets, you have to be ready for this moment, and I felt that if I cowered away from it, I didn't deserve to have them. So I stood firm and sat there next to my mother as the doctor (a very nice woman who had taken care of Duke when he first got sick and who had taken a shine to him) knelt in front of us and injected him with a sedative to put him to sleep. Next came water to flush it through his veins quickly, then an overdose of another sedative that would stop his heart, and more water. I knew he was gone before the overdose hit his system. He had been so close to death that the sedative meant to put him to sleep had helped him cross over.

I looked at his face, into his eyes, and knew he wasn't there anymore. What lay in my mothers arms was nothing but a shell. Something I was no longer connected to. I cried...but silently. Almost as if I didn't have control over keeping the tears in my eyes any longer.

I haven't really grieved yet and I know it. Since Monday I've been numb. I go through the normal routines, and try to keep myself distracted, but I know it's coming.
Hell...I welcome the distractions and no one but those closet to me notice that I'm not myself. But that's how I want it.
I don't want people to see that I'm not alright, because it leads to questions and answering those questions means thinking about what I don't want to think about.
But...at the same time I know I have to talk about it...so maybe this blog surves a purpose after all.
I don't know...

What I do know... is that no matter how hard loosing them might be, having pets is worth it every single moment of every single day...

Thanks for listening...

Back to School...Oh BOY!

I know I haven't bloged in awhile, but that's because I've been more busy then usual.

Besides trying to continue to loose weight for my trip to Cancun, which is a battle within itself, I've also started classes to further my education.

Thanks to the nonprofit organization called Community Impact, I'm taking classes that will help me get into college or any other program that will further my education and help me get a job in a higher pay grade. The program is in Columbia University and can help me get on the fast track to getting into Columbia U itself if I so choose.

It's for people in the community who need help continuing there education because of financial difficulty or any other situation. Many people get stuck because they can't afford classes to continue there education or maybe they forgot how to be a student, but this program helps people of all ages get back on there feet and back into school.
They have many other programs that help the community, like programs to help get a job, to help get financial aid for school, that help those who need  food stamps or health care, programs to help the homeless, or free classes for those who need help learning English, and these are just to name a few.

Unfortunately the program isn't very organized, and this can lead to lots of confusion.
I had to call their office about 5 times before I got someone to tell me where I can take my placement test, and we didn't get our scores and class assignments until the first day of class (Yesterday) which was a trick in itself since they didn't know where to tell us to go get them in the first place.
There's also a lot of confusion about textbooks. How much they will cost, which ones you will need, and when to buy them. Plus on top of that, when we did get out class assignments, not all of them were on our schedules, because they don't have rooms available for those classes yet. I know they are having trouble with Columbia getting classrooms for many of these classes, which then trickles down to confusion for the students because much like the game of telephone, by the time the information gets to the last person, the information has changed... I know...it makes me dizzy just thinking about all this.
I wasn't the only one who was confused. Many of the other students as well as teachers all seemed to be getting different information.

But even with all the problems I've had with the program so far, I'm hoping that once all this "start of semester" confusion is settled, things will go a bit more smoothly.
It's a vital program for the community, for the college, and personally, I know in the end, it'll be worth sticking with it.


(Funny photo provided by Photobucket and directly linked)

I'm Below the National Waist Size Average!!!?: Running my Ass Off continued...

That's right folks...
Yours truly is actually below the National Waist Size Average!!
WOOOHOOO!!!!
Trust me...no one was more surprised then I was.

I was watching a news program about the obesity epidemic when they talked about a recent Federal study that showed that the average waist size for men in the US was 39.0 inches while for women its 36.5 inches.
I am currently a little under 33 inches.

Kinda blew my head....

I'm still not sure how accurate that survey was and I don't completely trust news networks anymore, but it made me realize how far I've come.
But just like everything in my life, my happy dance didn't last long...

Now there seems to be a new study out that correlates waist size and health (it's been out before but this one was all new...lol), that says you need to have a waist size of 31 and under to be low risk, so of course I have a ways to go...
That is if any of this shit ACTUALLY mattered to me...

I was just happy knowing I was below the national average...I did my little jig and that was it...I really couldn't give 2 shits otherwise...
The obesity issues is a big one, and it requires major change to take place in every aspect of our lives, but people don't want to talk about that, and until they do, I'm sticking my fingers in my ears, sticking out my tongue, and blowing raspberries at my TV.
They want to throw around scary numbers, tell you to eat right and exercise, but that's all they say (as if that's the only problem). Then right afterward, as if by divine coincidence, you'll see is a fast food commercial.

It's fucking comical.

So...I know there's always gonna be another survey, another study, that will say something different. Just look at how many times they said red wine and coffee were bad for you, which is why I'm not giving up my red meat for no man...lol. So I'm not gonna waste my time chasing after someone else's idea of healthy.

I know what it looks like and I'll know it when I get there...
*PING*...lol...;-)



Stories on the web that have to do with what I'm ranting about: 

Japan, Seeking Trim Waists, Measures Millions 
The Belly Burden


(Photo by KclCmdr, provided by Photobucket and directly linked)
(Ticker provided by The Ticker Factory)

"Return of the Pack!"THE WEDDING!!...

It's been over a week since my aunt's wedding, and I'm still trying to recover and get my thoughts together to write everything that happened.

The whole event can be best described as flipping overwhelming, and I realized today, writing down everything that happened would be way too much of a daunting task.

I would end up turning this semi-legible blog into unreadable gibberish (which I hope I've avoided...so far).
So instead I shall skip over the week prior and concentrate on condensing the wedding day from a book length description to a reasonable blog length (I'll try but there's a lot...lol)...so here it goes...
 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The wedding day was one of the craziest experiences of my life...Complete and total madness...lol
Not only did it turn out to be freaking hot day (which I was dreading since I sweat a lot!), but time literally felt like it was flying by and all I was doing was chasing after it like a dumb ass.

My morning started with me on my cell, talking with family, trying to get them from point A to point B, trying to fix appointments that had gone wrong, and trying to figure out where everyone can meet, all the while I was running around the city, hauling over 8 pounds of makeup on my shoulder, missing stops, getting on the wrong buses, all just trying to get to my hair appointment.
Oh and on top of that, I get on the one bus in NYC where the bus driver is gonna bust my balls because I'm on a cell phone...actually using the intercom to tell me to get off my phone!
WTF!!
I think if I wasn't so distracted with all those problems, I might have taken my heavy bag of makeup and knocked that driver upside her fat head, but then I'd be blogging from jail right now, so thank GOD for small favors...lol

I mean...my mind literally felt like it was in a blender, but like everything else, I pushed through the madness, and got shit done.
Family got where they needed to be, the problems got fixed, I made it to my appointment, got my hair done, and we finalized where we were all gonna meet.

Almost everyone was staying at the same hotel, to avoid driving drunk at 11pm, so we decided that was the place to meet up.
After greeting everyone in the lobby, my mother, panicked about our time, literally commandeered my aunts room for us to change in. It was understandable considering we were going to dress the bride on the boat before everyone else so we were tight on time.

It was insane!

We were literally running around the room in our undergarments, our clothing and all 8 pounds of my makeup scattered across the room. One of my aunts joined us later so we could hep her get dressed which just added to the madness. On top of that the bathroom was tiny even for NY standards, so trying fit 3 people in this bathroom to do makeup with the horrible corpse like lighting was a joke. My mother, my aunt and I literally played musical bathroom...lol
But the worst part was that not only did I have to do my makeup, and do it way over the top thanks to the pictures we were gonna be taking, but I had to do my mothers makeup as well, something I had never done before.
Being a perfectionist, it was a fucking crazy thing for me to attempt in the short time we had, but as luck would have it, I didn't fuck it up. But before I could congratulate myself for not freaking out and for doing a good job, we were out the door, running for a cab, doing a dive by to pick up of the bride, and where at the boat.

It was a nice sized yacht called the Star of America, but the moment I got on I noticed two things. One it was rocking like crazy, I could barley keep my balance, and two it was fucking HOT!!!
It was actually cooler outside then it was inside the ship, and I could already feel the beads of sweat forming on the back of my neck.
I was Fucked!
Between my hair being down, wearing a long dress, the physical exertion of just trying to keep my body upright, and the lack of air conditioning, I knew I was gonna look like a drowned cat within moments.

We headed to the main bathroom which was even hotter then the main cabin, and proceeded to dress the bride. Half way through the photographer told us she wanted some shots of the bride getting ready, so we moved back into the main cabin. Last thing you want when your hot, sweaty and uncomfortable, is a camera in your face, but if its for someone you love, then the term "Fuck It" has a way of running through your head, and that's just what happened.
The back of my head and neck were drenched (so much for getting my hair done), folds of my dress were darkened from the sweat, and my upper lip was covered in beads of moisture, but I just focused on what I was doing.

When it was all done, it was worth every moment because she was a vision...
No one would guess this woman who looked like she was in her 30's was actually going to be 50 in 4 months. Every piece that we had seen and chosen separately, came together flawlessly.

My job was done.
As the bride and groom welcomed the guests onto the boat I realized everything that we had been working towards was about to happen, and though my hair was a mess, my makeup was half melted, my dress was too long, I was drenched in sweat, and I couldn't stand in my heals anymore, I didn't care, I was happy.
I was with my family, people I loved, people I felt at home with.

Everyday that I walk out my door, there could be thousands of people around me, and I feel isolated, alone.
But when I'm with my family I'm surrounded with people who see me, who get me, who know what I'm gonna say before I say it. People who truly understand me and when I'm with them, no matter where that is, I feel like I'm truly home.

So I tied up my hair, kicked off my shoes, and said "FUCK IT!!"
The entire ride the boat rocked. Most of the time we had to hold on to each other or the walls to keep from falling, but we laughed every time.
After drinks, we headed top deck for photos, then once we arrived at the Statue of Liberty the ceremony began.

The brides son's girlfriend, a beautiful young 18 year old woman did the ceremony. She had gotten ordained specifically just to do this ceremony and she did such an amazing job that we will be calling her for future baptisms...lol. A few times I thought the ceremony was going to be ruined by the occasional party boat blasting Jay-Z's "Empire State of Mind" but they never got close enough to cause a real disturbance, just close enough to make me laugh.

Then the real party began. The DJ started spinning, and people started dancing (at least those who had the courage with the boat rocking). My uncle, who's notorious at weddings, was dancing with whomever he could grab, and god bless the women who were unlucky enough to get captured by him cause my uncle is dangerous when he dances on dry land, let alone at sea. If you don't believe me, ask every pair of ripped dress pants that man has gone through...lol

After some dancing we had the reception below deck. The lower you go, the less the boat rocks so perfect place to have a meal. There was a speech by the groom, but not a lot of hullabaloo, just elegant, to the point, and a tear jerkier. The food was amazing, as was the cake, but my favorite part was that I got to sit at the troublemakers table and was quite honored by it. My aunt the bride, being a bit of a troublemaker herself, had our table right next to hers, which was nice since usually at weddings the trouble makers are sat as far from everyone else as possible...lol...but that's just how our family rolls...;-)

One thing I did notice was that the power on the ship kept browning out, as did our speed, which could be the reason why the boat was so rocky. It also didn't help that the DJ decided to play music from the movie "Titanic" while we were eating. Either he was a complete idiot, and didn't connect how bad a choice of music that was, or he was a bit sadist. I'm just glad everything turned out ok, or I would have throttled that guy myself...lol

After the reception it was back to dancing. I helped the bride out of her dress and into another more comfortable dress, then headed to the party that was already swinging on the top deck. By this point, almost everyone had gotten used to the rocking of the boat and between the booze and the food, everyone felt ready to dance.

I think we could have gone till the wee hours of the morning, but by 11pm we were back at the south street seaport, ready to dock, and the party was over.
It was one of the best weddings I've ever been too, and one of the happiest moments of my life. If I had to do it over, I'd only change two things, the length of my dress, and I would have taken some pictures with the beautiful vision that was my aunt the bride.

(Photo of Grace Kelly on her wedding day by rhamlin, Photobucket, and directly linked)

"Klutziness Strikes Again!" a very long blog...lol

As far as the rest of my life goes, things are not so easy.

How is it that when my aunt says to stay healthy and no injury's before the wedding, I end up almost in the ER!
Either her words were bad luck, I have a secret subconscious sadistic side, or I live with little evil invisible gnomes who make sure something always happens to me right before some important event.
I personally think it's a mix of all three...lol

So here's the story.
I was having a quite but happy Wednesday and decided to spread the love by making my corn bread for my mother as a nice surprise for when she got home. Everything was moving smoothly... that was until I reached for a ceramic bowl from the dish rack, it slipped out of my hand, and broke.
Now my first instinct when things fall are to catch them, so I was already reaching for the bowl when it broke against the sink edge, and instead of catching the damn thing, I ended up stabbing myself deep in the wrist with a nice big jagged piece of hand painted ceramic.

What you need to understand is that this is my left wrist. The same one that got sliced open when I was 9, nicking my artery, and severing the tendons of my 4th and 5th fingers. Even years later my hand isn't the same and I still have an aversion to the sound of broken glass. So you can imagine what ran through my head when I saw, once again, the white meat of the inside of my wrist and blood pooling inches away from my old scar.

Luckily either by nature, all my years of practice at being a klutz, or both, I've learned how to react calmly yet quickly in a crises.
I immediately removed excess debris from my hand and wrapped my wrist in paper towels while applying pressure to stop the bleeding.
I wasn't sure what to do next, my mind was racing.
I kept waiting for the pain to hit me but it didn't. I felt an odd tingle/burning but no real pain.
Maybe because of the adrenalin I felt surging through my veins, maybe because I hit nerve damaged tissue, either way I wasn't gonna look a gift horse in the mouth...

I knew there was no way I was calling an ambulance when I lived within walking distance from the hospital, especially since I wasn't bleeding too bad, so that bought me some time. I looked at the clock and realized my mother would be just getting off her shift at the hospital. So I decided to call her and find out what I should do.

This all ran through my mind in seconds.

When I told her what happened, she told me to hang tight, keep pressure on it, and she'd be home in a few minuets. I then got to work with my one good hand pulling off sweats, pulling on jeans, finding my wallet and my bag.
While I waited, I took another peak at my wound and saw that the bleeding had slowed considerably, at least enough for me to properly assess the wound. It was deep but looked like it would only need 2 stitches. Maybe three if they stitched inside the flap, I mean, 2 to 3 stitches is nothing in caparison to my original scar that took about 9 on the surface alone...and thinking about this is what triggered my seed of doubt.

Maybe it wasn't as bad as I made it out to be? Maybe I had overreacted because of my history and because it's my wrist again? Maybe it didn't even need stitches?

The bleeding by this point was very slow thanks to all the pressure I'd been applying, so by the time my mother got to the building I was feeling rather pathetic, embarrassed, and frankly I felt bad because I felt like I had worried her over nothing. I started telling her right away that I probably didn't have to go to the ER, all the while showing her my wound. When she saw it, she said she could take care of it, but that if I wanted we could still go to the hospital cause it could probably use a stitch.

My heart sank...Confirmation...I overreacted...I was an idiot....

You would think I would be happy that it wasn't as bad as I thought, but instead I felt horrible.
So I told her I rather her handle it.
Last thing I needed was to head to the hospital, running into all kinds of people we both know, for something as sad as a one stitch gash.

When we got upstairs, she got to work.
First out came the dusty first-aid kit (our "Osama Bin Laden Kit"...yes it's that old...lol), and her glasses. As she was prepping, she asked if I had cleansed the wound. I told her no, and explained what I'd done. She then proceeded to put on her glasses, grab my arm, and drag me under the light over the butcher block (she can get a bit ruff in emergency mode...lol)

She froze.

I could see something bothered her, but she shook whatever it was off, and proceeded to check it.
Since neither of us were sure if the wound was clean, she brought me to the sink, turned on the faucet, and ran water over my wrist.

I was blinded by a searing flash of white hot pain...

That was the pain I'd been waiting for...
I gasped as it stabbed through my wrist and made me cry out, but like the macho I am, I didn't pull my arm away. She apologized repeatedly as she continued to rinse my wrist under the water, washing away the caked dried blood and any debris that might have been left over. After she was sure the wound was rinsed, next came the iodine.
Just seeing that dark orange stain and smelling it's unique odor brought back memories of my many past mishaps. The iodine didn't hurt as bad as the water thank God, just a low burn that lasted a few annoying minuets.

After everything was properly coated, she placed a gauze pad over it, and grabbed the ace bandage. Because I have a tendency to get annoyingly inquisitive when in crises mode, I asked her why the ace and not the gauze roll or adhesive tape? She simply said she wanted to keep the pressure on it till she could find some steri-strips to use. I thought it seemed a bit much but who was I to argue.

It wasn't until a little while later, when she was applying the steri-strips, that I really noticed her concern.
She way too quiet, way too careful, way too business like about applying each strip, and while examining it she made her "I don't like this" noise (best way I can describe it is as a sort of a "hmm" like when you question something but don't what to say anything), but when I asked her about it, she just gave me the classic "everything's fine" line.

That was it...I knew something was up, but by this point I was crashing from my adrenalin high, and the pain was pushing through my weakened senses.
She finished by wrapping the ace over my wrist again, and this time I knew better then to ask why.

The next day I woke up sore from head to toe, probably from all the previous days tension, but I was determined that this stupid injury wasn't going disrupt my routine.
I went about my day as I always do, even exercising (though careful not to stretch my wrist and doing mostly lower body).
By the time she came to check on my injury, I had sweated straight through the steri-strips and they needed to be replaced. But when she saw the wound, she again became very focused, quiet, and made that noise.

Well the noise did it....

I'd had enough with being placated, and I was determined to find out why she kept acting funny when she looked at my wound. So I confronted her about it.
At first she denied being worried, but when I described her behavior, even down to the little sound she makes, she laughed then came clean.

She was worried about the wound.
At the beginning it didn't look like much to her, but once she saw it in the light, with her glasses, she realized it wasn't as small a wound as she thought. Every time she looks at it, she's worried that it's gonna get infected, or it wont heal right. Then with a sigh she told me that it probably would have been best if we had gone to the hospital to get it stitched up. She just felt like she may have made a bad call....

Now I was confused...
First it was bad, then it wasn't, now it is again...
My head was spinning...

But...I realized at this point, it didn't matter.
I told her not to worry. I'll keep it clean, I'll keep using the strips for as long as there needed, and if it gets infected, I go to the doc, let them check it out, get some antibiotics, and go home.
No big deal.

And that's what I've been doing...
Since then I've been able to take the ace bandaged off occasionally to let my wrist breathe, but if I'm cleaning or exercising, it goes back on. It still hurts, and the pain gets a bit worse the more it heals, but so far so good. I wont have to wear an ace for the wedding (thank God) and I have yet to tell the bride of my mishap, in fact I'm not planing to.
She'll see it the day of the wedding when I meet her to get her into her dress, and I'll probably get hit over the head for it, but the last thing I want to do is give her anything else to worry about.
I consider this experience a learning lesson for when the Apocalypse comes and we have to rely on field medicine...lol

Thanks for listening to my LONG ASS story...
I promise the next blog will be shorter...lol

Next blog "Return of the Cousins"...
(1st photo by Jelena13, Photobucket and is directly linked)
(2nd photo is of my hand after I got all taped up and my comment about the incident...lol)

"Weight Wars"...

So...It's Official....I lost 24 pounds!
BOOYAA!!!!!

That is...according to my new doctor who I saw August 9th. Can't get more official then that, and my weight was taken during the afternoon, fully clothed....:-))

Awesome!.......

I'm still busting my hump with Jillian's DVD's and stomach crunches "a la Mama" (my mothers stomach exercises which are killer by the way...she has abs of steel), but I haven't been doing much of the treadmill since the DVD's take so much out of me.

I also gave up on my goal for the wedding (since it's unreasonable now that it's a week away), but that doesn't mean I give up on my overall goal of weight loss and healthy living.
I'm still exercising at least 3 times a week and eating healthy has gotten easier. Before it was a fight with my cravings and the emotional aspect of food. Plus food is a big part of my culture as a Puerto Rican, so there's a strong social quality to food for me.

But tricks like serving myself, using smaller plates (both of which help me to control portion size and prevent over eating) , making sure I try to have salad with every meal, making sure there's more salad on my plate then anything else, and eating the salad first so as to fill up faster, are all common sense things that have helped me to lower the amount of calories I consume. I can still enjoy the traditional foods I grew up with, just in smaller portions. I've also almost completely cut out soda, but occasionally, like maybe twice a month, treat myself to a coke if I've been good, almost treating the soda like I would a dessert.

If anything my progress just encourages me to keep going, and my new goal of another 30 pounds by November doesn't seem as impossible now that I'm properly motivated.

I'm so tired of being unhealthy. If it isn't one thing, it's another.
I've never let anything beat me down and I'm not about to start now...
So here it goes...
WOOOHOOO!!!...lol..................................................................................

Next blog "Klutziness Strikes Again!"...........
(Top photo by Ray_Harris, Photobucket and is directly linked)
(Ticker thanks to Tickerfactory.com)

Should I share Now or Later...hmmmm...?

So I'm debating whither I should share my body changes since I started this "Run My Ass Off" "Break My Ass" campaign.
I wont lie...the prospect of putting out the actual numbers for the world to see (actually more like 5 people..lol) is a frighteningly anus tightening task (say that 10 times fast).

I mean...it's one thing to see my fat ass in person, where I can try to camouflage all my wobbly bits with some dark deceptive shading and flowy fabric, but it's another to actually give out mathematical numbers that you can compare to African wildlife...
But since I seem to be spewing all my other embarrassing shit in this lovely little blog of mine, why not add another smoker to the pile.

Now...don't get all disappointed...but I can't post my weight changes because my scale (which was an old relic covered in dust and hidden under the tub) is dead, and I'm too broke to buy another one (yes I broke it...because I was bouncing on it like an idiot...don't ask)
But...have no fear...I have been taking measurements at least once a month to mark my body modification progress.

I had some basic measurements from March, which I've been using as my control, and I was planning to compare them to measurements I took a week ago. My plan was to wait till the day before the wedding to post them since that was my original goal date...but I'm impatient (always have been...lol) and I'm not sure what difference a little over 2 weeks would really make.
Plus...if I'm gonna do this shit...I got to do it like the way you rip off a band-aid...fast and painless (which is a lie told by sadistic parents who are tired of wasting their time watching their kid slowly peel off the damn band-aid!...sorry...um...went a ranting there...lol)...

So while writing this dribble, I've decided to post the measurements Now and then take new ones after the wedding to post Later...
Let's see if over 2 weeks makes any sort of difference...
Here we go...

March                           July 
Hips : 47 inches             Hips: 44 inches 
Waist : 38 inches           Waist: 33 inches
Bust : 43 inches             Bust:  41 inches

Now...I'm not completely happy with the results, because I know I could have done better then this, but I have to be honest and remind myself that I didn't truly put my whole heart into the exercising/eating right thing until June, where I promptly freaked the fuck out.
I may not have reached my goal, but it helped get my large butt moving, and finally pushed me over that hurdle (more like a 30 foot wall) of not wanting to change my life.
I've already set another goal for November when I will hopefully be going to Cancun, so I don't intend to stop once the wedding is over. I'm taking this as far as I can before something happens (which it always seems to do and why my nickname is Murphy...lol)

Though I may not be entirely happy (cause I'll still be fat for the wedding) I'm constantly reminded of how much has changed with the loss of a few inches. I fit into jeans I haven't worn in over 2 years, people say (as if surprised) that I look good without me fishing for it, I can walk further, run faster, and I think I look better, but that's my own personal opinion ;-)

So that's it...
If I can get to a scale I'll see where I am in comparison to the last time I was on a scale (the night it died), then I'll post that in my after wedding blog...
As for now...I'm feeling the effects of the benadryl I took, so it's time for bed...

Peace OUT!!!

(beautiful "Pin Up Measuring Tape" photo by LaurenCollins7's Album, posted on Photobucket, and directly linked)

HOLY FUCK NUGGETS!! 17 days and Counting....

I'm freaking out...
Weddings just around the corner...
I got my bra and It Fits!(thank GOD!), so I'm all set on the dress front and I am 34/36 G (fuck...)
I'm still stressing about my makeup since it's a wedding and all, but I'll have to wing it when the time comes.
Got my hair appointment, flowers have been ordered, and the clan starts arriving in exactly 2 weeks (Yay!). But what I keep having stress palpitations about is Dancing!!

What the hell is wrong with me that with all the things I got to worry about, that's the one thing that keeps popping back into my head like an evil little gnome.
It's usually attached to some other worry like not being able to dance in my heals, the dress being too long for me to comfortably dance in, are my arms gonna be covered enough for me to feel free in my movements, will I look fat dancing on the video.
All this stupid shit is running through my head and I feel schizo cause half of me is worrying about it while the other half is asking myself why the fuck I'm worrying about such stupid crap (yes...sometimes I talk to myself...or rather curse at myself...so sue me).

I've always been embarrassed about dancing. I don't know why.
Yet not with dancing on a stage...I was always fine with that, but dancing at a party or at a club, always made me feel self conscious.
I know I'll be with mostly family, in fact more family then's ever been together at one time, but for whatever reason thinking about that doesn't help.

Ahhh FUCK IT!!!!....I can't think about this shit anymore...I got bigger things to worry about...like my last 2 weeks of exercise...lol

(Photo by riah12162008, provided by Photobucket, and directly linked)
(just thought the photo was funny and I feel like I look like him...lol)

Louis C.K. - Shameless

This is the comedy special that made me fall in love with this guy.
Found the whole thing on Youtube and put it together in one playlist.
Another look into the way my mind works and what I find funny...



(clips provided by eddshomie and YouTube)

I'm a WHAT!!!!...........

So...here's what happened.

I...as you know am going to a wedding.
The dress I'm wearing is convertible, but in order for me to have the freedom to do things with it I need a strapless bra.

Now...I've always had rather large breasts for most of my life.
They appeared when I was 9. I went from nothing, to a small B in what seemed like over night, and by the time I turned 13 I was officially a large D.
So you can guess that finding good bras were always an issue for me, let alone anything pretty or fancy like a strapless bra. But when having large boobs became culturally popular, I began to hope.

After the age of 13, my boobs continued to grow in size, just more slowly. By the time I was in my 20's I was a DD, and since my weight gain my boobs shot up as far as a DDDD. When I realized I had to find a bra that could hold up a pair of Real DDDD, I almost gave up hope.

Then my mother, through countless hours on the computer, found what is said to be the best strapless bra for the bigger breasted girls. She bought one of herself (being a D) and it was like a miracle. I still doubted that it would work for me, but she insisted we give it a try, especially since I had lost weight.
So she bought me the bra in a 34 DDDD which for this bra company is a 34 G, thinking that if it's too big, we can send it back. We got it on Tuesday and I tried it on yesterday.

It was too SMALL!!

The band was kinda tight which I expected because I'm between a 36 and a 34, but it was the cups that were too small!
I almost passed out....
Aren't breasts supposed to get smaller when you loose weight!! And there was no doubt that I had.
All you have to do is look at my face, but the scale and my pants don't lie either.

I HAD lost weight, but my BOOBS got BIGGER!
I was overflowing my cups, but I shouldn't be overflowing at all...
That means I'm an H....a small H...
Is the weight I'm loosing going to my boobs....
How is this even possible??
The bra has to be defective...
I can't except that I'm a H cup...
I get fuzzy in the head just thinking about it...
or maybe that's the lack of blood in my brain because it's all going to my BOOBS!!!!!!!
Mother Fucker!!!

(Photo by paulthorpe2008, provided by Photobucket, and directly linked)

A WTF!!! Kinda Day....

So... I had this dream this morning that the Queen of England dropped by my house to use the bathroom, or the phone, or something, and fell in love with Max (my dog) the way everyone who meets him does. So much so she asked me if it would be alright for her to take him for a walk. Of course we sent my uncle with her in case Max pulls her too hard and knocks her on her face. The last thing I want is my dog dragging the Queen of England around on her face. 

Next... I'm in a city collage dorm building and a "Predator" (as in the alien with the dreads) is trying to kill me. I tell people but no one believes me except these 2 brothers who are my friends. Well...that is until I knock the thing out a window and onto a parked car 3 floors down. Now everyone can see him, but he's still alive and a major battle ensues, where I fight on window ledges and fire escapes using a broken mop handle and eventually his pointy staff weapon to stab him multiple times and smash his head in cause he keeps coming back to life. Long story short I won, but one of the brothers gets hurt. 

So now that the battles over and I want to check on the remaining brother, but I don't want to leave the Predators body behind encase he comes back to life again. I don't want him to get away and have to find him again to kill him. So the remaining brother helps me carry the Predator body in a sheet as we make our was to the emergency hospital which happens to be in the very next building. 

The hospital turns out to be one large room like a Costco that's a mix of a Chinese meat factory, and a Best Buy. The front is full of large hanging meat and Asian guys wearing bloody aprons holding butcher knives, while in the back are rows of aisles with Cd's and DVD's.We find the brother in one of the DVD aisles, on a cot, lying next to Kurt Russell that turns out to be his father who's in a coma. 

Then all of a sudden I'm their father but as Snake Plissken and I'm apologizing for not being a good father, not being around and trying to re-connect with them by convincing them to go on the Sprint family plan with me so we can video chat.... 

So in summation I woke up thinking.... WHAT THE FUCK!!!

I think I need to take a sabbatical from my TV...lol

("WTF?!" photo by SugerG and Photobucket. Directly linked)

Boob Rant!!

Reading my friends blog about boobs got me thinking....

WTF is up with this obsession with BOOBS!

I mean...is it that most were not breast fed enough or maybe breast fed too much!

And I'm not just talking about Men. Most men are obvious boob connoisseurs, giving them names and listing attributes for all kinds of boobs (which I find hilarious), but women too are equally obsessed with them, just not for the same reasons (unless they're gay).

When you walk down the street, when you go the store, at work, in church, you can see it happening everywhere. Women judging other women's boobs. 

Men...You think your woman doesn't see that chica with the DDD's walking a half block away. 

Not only have they seen her, they've already determined whither her boobs are real, if the woman is a hoe based on her attire, boob size, hair color, type of boob (fake or real), and whither it's safe to keep walking in that direction because they might have to distract you so you don't goggle at her when you pass by.

It's Fucking Nuts!!

Granted that's not all they're judging. 

Women feel this need to judge another woman's every single flaw in order to make themselves feel better. Instead of just appreciating what they have and leaving it at that, they have to put someone else down to raise themselves up (back handed complements are one of the tricks of the trade) and its done all the freaken time...its a hidden epidemic of taught behavior among women and I'm sick of it.

Now...I love Boobs, I love women, and I'm as straight as they come. But I can admire a woman with a nice rack or a beautiful body without feeling the need to find a flaw in order to make myself feel better. Hell...I've been known to hit my man not because he was goggling at someone, but because I want him to see the amazing legs on some chick....lol 

Maybe it's because I've been judged so many times for the way I look, that I can't bring myself to judge others in the same way.

Case in point...I've had boobs since the age of 9...
That's right I said 9, and I noticed an immediate change in the attitude from both Men and Women.
Women who would smile at me, and say hi, would now ignore me and give me nasty looks, while Men on the street would say and do very nasty things. Things that made me feel dirty, scared, and like there was something wrong with me.

I was still a child for Fuck sake, but because I had boobs everything changed and somehow acting like that became appropriate somehow.

Mind you...unlike girls today I was not dressed like a little street walker, in mini skirts, high heals, and crop tops, nor did I ever ware makeup. That was just not something that would ever be allowed in my mothers house and I'm pretty sure if she ever dressed me in that manner, the rest of my family would have smacked the crap out of her, but luckily non of that happened.

But that sudden change in the way I was perceived, and the way I was treated was the reason I took to wearing dark baggy clothing for most of my teens, didn't want anything to do with sex until after I turned 19, and didn't loose my virginity until I turned 24.

Because of all that I've only just learned in my late 20's to appreciate my body and my boobs. 

I'm still modest...actually way too modest as far as my friends are concerned, but I'm ok with that. I see now the power I possess with my large rack, and I'm very careful with it because I know what they can do and what they bring out in people. Being big chested also means that just because some piece of clothing looks nice sensual and classic on a smaller boobed chick doesn't mean it's gonna look that way on me. Big boobs have a tendency to make most tops look oversexed and I avoid that look like the plague. I've also learned the trick of seeing everything around me but with certain blinders or filters so as to protect myself. 

There are a lot of fucked up people out there and even more people who look forward to judging you because of your Boobs, so though I'm not blind to it, and I'm still sensitive to it, especially in how I'm dressed, I'm not letting others opinions restrict me from wearing something flattering. 

Are men gonna stare if my girls are propped up and nicely enveloped?

Sure...that's just part of the course, and I don't get upset about it anymore (unless it's really bad like constant staring and drooling...then I get annoyed), in fact I kinda find it funny. Especially when they can't finish a sentence...lol

But when it comes to those hater bitches who want to put me down, my mantra has become , "Fuck Um!...There just Jealous", and I laugh at them. 

Laughing at people who want to put you down is a sure way to confuse and frustrate them. They don't know what to do with that...lol

And as for those fucked up perverts. 

I'm learning to replace that feeling of being victimized with a healthy dose of righteous anger and my camera phone.

"Smile for the Cops Ass Hole!"**click**....lol

(photo provided by Photobucket and directly linked)
(and here's the link to my friends blog The Bipolar Bible)