I Remember You

Your memory washes over me like a tidal wave. I remember.

I remember the good times, the ones full of laughter at stupid stuff and guys you chased after.

I remember how you smelled sweet and like you gave a damn and meanwhile, I would show up in a t-shirt.

I remember staying out with you later than I should of and knowing I would get in trouble for being late.

I remember bobbing around why you danced. I remember the singing to bands and banging to the beat on the table.

I remember early morning breakfast and the people we would meet.

I remember seeing you every Thursday and hanging on every word you said.

I remember trying to get better so we could be real friends instead of pretend.

I remember the country music and I still love those song because it reminds me of a better time.

That’s all I remember because I block out the bad but I’m still hurting because I am only over you sometimes. 

A smell, a song, a decrepit building and a bottle of wine remind me of you.

I don’t want to see you because I freeze. I do want to see you because I want to show you how strong I am. I don’t want to see you because I am transparent. I do want to see you- I don’t want to see you- I don’t know what I want.

Why didn’t you fight for me? Why wasn’t I your friend after- I wasn’t worth it was I? I know why, it’s because of taking your license but I thought you would have at least said goodbye.

How is it that I think about you in a ‘I remember,’ sort of way and I’m sure that you hate me and think of me in, ‘She’s a fucking bitch,’ sort of way.

I wish we didn’t leave it like that. I wish you just said goodbye to me when we were in that court room.

Will I ever move on? I need to because I remember that you aren’t good for me.

Until next time,



Does this Come in My Size?

So I tried buying some dresses online and the website had a measurement chart. According to the chart, my boobs are 2x, my waist is a 1x and my hips are a 3x.

Excuse me… what am I supposed to buy? I went with a 2x because my boobs are so large and that is the first thing to go into a dress. However, what is a curvy woman to do? Some things have crossed my mind:

1) Find someone to custom make my moo-moos.

2) Burn the sizing chart.

3) Shred the measuring tape because I think it’s lying.

4) Break the scale that mocks how much I weigh.

5) Hire some hot trainer so I can trim my curves.

6) Eat ice cream.

7) Drink. Sometimes it’s the only solution.

8) Use the extra fabric from the dress as a tent for a camp outing.

9) Go skydiving and use my new dresses as parachutes while wearing my new shoes.

10) Exercise. Bahaha… I’m just kidding.

Being curvy is a hard job. Yeah, your dead sexy but sizing charts mock your ability to buy a dress.

Until next time,

My 1x, 2x, 3x self will keep you posted.

What You Should Never Say to Your Patients…

I was at my psychiatrist office yesterday and the receptionist seemed extremely overwhelmed. 

As I was checking out she looked at me and said: 

‘I have so many problems…’ -receptionist 

‘Yeah…?’ -me

‘Yeah, I just can’t get everything together and I have so much to do and… ugh.’ -receptionist 

‘I understand… well good luck with your problem.’ -me

‘Yeah, good luck with your problems too!’

Bahahaha! I had to laugh when I left because it just ended the whole appointment on such a fabulous note. 

Until next time,

What’s your problem?

Red Tape

You ask me how I am doing and I say I am doing fine. You keep asking me because you know that it isn’t true. You ask me how I am doing- I give you more information, ‘not good’, I say; ‘it’s been a tough week.’

Again you ask because you truly want to help me, I tell you that I think about hurting myself and you get nervous. For you, this is new, something you didn’t know about me but for me, it’s every day life. Every second the thought passes through my mind like a rapid fire rifle.

You start to get uncomfortable and start to show me all the gifts I have in my life and how I would be leaving my family. I hear you but my mind is racing- perhaps I have shared too much? You are on high alert like the United States on a holiday.

I start to shut down. I start to shut down. I can’t talk to you about this because it’s not normal and you have every right to feel the way you do. You have every right to show me what I have and what I would be ‘giving up.’ However, I already know this information.

I start to shut down. My engine is out of gas. The gas light has come on but I have no desire to find a gas station. I have no desire to pump more gas. I can’t make you feel better and keep myself from rolling off the nearest cliff.

You care about me so much and I, you, but we shouldn’t talk about this anymore. You are trying so hard to ‘help’ and I am trying so hard not to shut down but it’s impossible.

From now on, I need to conform with the rules of society. I need to feel what is right even if it’s a lie. Bound my hands and mouth with red tape. I need to conform to societal norms.

And even if I am trying to conform to society, I am cheating myself because I am not validating myself; ‘it’s not me,’ I say, ‘it’s society.’ There is such a stigma on people like myself. We live in a world where we are not accepted and our thoughts and feelings are strange. We are dangerous to the normal society because our thoughts shake up what is considered normal.

I shake up society; much like an earthquake in southern California. The buildings around me our strong but my building is crumbling. No one knows why but my building is not as strong as yours. When an earthquake comes, I hurt people. Bound me in red tape; bound me in yellow caution tape. ‘Do Not Cross,’ it says. Yellow tape is everywhere. You can’t cross because you will see the mess I have become; the mess that I am.

I will rebuild. I will get stronger. I will cut the tape but I need to cut the tape alone. You can’t be there because you don’t have scissors.

Until next time,

Learn to use scissors.

Best Pick-up Line

You always want romance in a relationship; of course, you would appreciate it more if you got it from your husband…

Today I got the best pick-up line when I walked in the door from being out of the house for a couple of hours.

‘Hey mom. You’re peanut butter.’ -Nicholas

‘Ok… thanks?’ -me

‘You’re peanut butter and I’m your jelly.’ -Nicholas 

It was so sweet… maybe Joe should take lessons from our six year old.

Until next time,

I wouldn’t mind a little fluff with my peanut butter.