*Make My Day
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Epiphanies happen in strange places
The OxyClean worked great. I've used it before, but had forgotten about it. Warren did a great job of cleaning it up. In fact he insisted on do the job. Speaking of Warren, today he did me proud. He made it thru the whole day of school with no consequences, he took he meds before I got home with out asking, and he did a great job of cleaning up a mess, that wasn't his fault.
Apparently our toilets, flapper is not flapping correctly. I know the lever conection (sorry for the non-techinical terms)was not conncted, and I had managed to jury rig it together (most of our plumbing was jury rigged, by a drunk jury if you ask me, if you flush while the shower is running, the shower-ey gets scalded, if you use hot water for anything else, they get the artic chill). But today when he got home from school, it had totally run amok. There was an inch of water on the floor.
He used towels to clean it up, and got Scott (his friends dad, who does plumbing and such for a living) to come over, adn shut the water to the toilet off, and pronouce it doa). He called me to let me know what was going on, and found our landlord's number for me. When I got home, the landlord had been there, and was going to come back. Warren had hauled all the wet towels downstairs and had washed a load. I'm sure Roland helped with some of the clean up, but still. He can be quite responsible sometimes.
I just wish he could keep it up. Tonight he went to sleep super early, so he could "get up at 5am to do his homework". He is a good kid at heart, I just wish he would do a better job of showing the rest of the world, and keeping his temper in check.
Sometimes, the most unlikely source can trigger some painful memories that were buried deep, never forgotten, but long ignored.
I was an early bloomer as they oft called it. I wasn't the first girl in my class to develop, that was A.K, who had the misfortune to have to wear a bra in third grade. But I was definatly one of the first. At the beginning of 5th grade I was as flat as any other 10 year old girl. But by the time school ended I had seemingly over night gone from flat chested to C cup. A year later two weeks after my 11th birthday, and the day before the first day of school I had my first period.
While I wasn't totally naive, I knew what a period was and why it happened, I was still totally unprepared for it and freaked out. My mom had only talked to me about it once or twice, and to be honest I learned more at Girl Scouts about that, than I ever did from my mom, who had a very hard time talking about that sort of thing.
I was always made to believe it was some dark evil secret, something not to be ashamed of, necessarily but definately not something to be proud of. Like it was a cross women had to bear. It was dirty and unclean and we shouldn't talk about it more than necessary.
By 7th grade I was quite well developed and while I was only 12, my body had curves that would have rivaled any adult. I was already a D cup, and had way to much junk in my trunk. To those who didn't know me, I could have been mistaken for someone much older, even though I still acted like a 12 year old. I didn't appreciate the changes. Guys (and girls) of that age can be quite cruel, but it is some what expected, if not acceptable. However what is not acceptable is the behavoir of much older men, men who have no business making comment about any women's body, much less that of a naive scared teenager, who is still not used to the sudden changes her body made with out her permission.
I was 12, I was a M*A*S*H fan, and since it was going off the air, memborbilia was selling like hot cakes. As a huge fan I had to get a T-shirt. The only one left was one with the "Best Care Anywhere, Hotlips" on it. I didn't care, I also didn't think. It was a bit snug but it fit. I loved that shirt. I wore it alot that summer.
I wore it to the county fair. I didn't like having boobs, but I wasn't ashamed of them either. Most of the women in my family have large breasts so I was used to that. Somebody should have warned me, about the wrong kind of attention they can attract. I wish some body had.
While I was lucky and I wasn't attacked or molested, or taken advantage of as many girls in my situation have been. I have never felt so ashamed of myself, of my body as I did that day. When you are only 12 and older men, men in there 20's and 30's who should know better, who should be arrested start making lewd comments and suggestions, you don't know what to do. Nobody came to my defense, nobody cared (my parents weren't around). I didn't know what to say or how to react. I just wanted out of there. I didn't even fully understand all of what they were saying to me.
That was the last time I wore that shirt. I still love the show, but I became more introverted less willing to talk about things. From that point one, I wouldn't wear any shirt that wasn't loose. I couldn't stand even remotely showing my boobage. The bigger the looser the better. The less sexual the better.
That was the year my weight first started going up and out of control. People made me feel bad, food made me feel good. People would hurt you, food would always be there. Food made me big and made me not so sexy or desirable. When you are fat guys either make rude comments about your size or they leave you alone. They don't whistle or try to touch you, or make lewd comments.
Years later when I dropped almost a 100 pounds, I met Mike (my now idiot ex adn Warren's dad). I was flattered by his attention, but it also made me nervous and scared as hell. Why would a guy be interested in me, want to touch my body.
All he must want is sex. He can't be intersted in me. When I got pregnant and so sick (serious hyper emesis, that landed me in the hospital), I actually still managed to loose weight but some how keep enough in me to have a healthy baby.
But as soon as the pregnancy was over I was quickly back to my old eating habits and my wieght soon shot up again. Of course that had the semi unconscous desired affect of driving him away. Keeping me safe from facing sexuality. It also caused alot of problems.
Strangely it wasn't until I read some article in one Oprah's magazine (shut up , I was at work bored and needed to read something), where a women with weight issues mentioned that she was also and early bloomer (10 as well), only in her case an evil depraved uncle had moved in for the kill and molested her. She also used fat as an insulation, and a test.
I don't attract attention that makes me nervous when I am fat. It also acts as a sort of test. If you don't love me fat, than you don't really love me.
Strange how the mind works. Until today, I had totally blocked out that day at the fair. I always got nervous and felt highly anxious at the thought of anything of a sexual nature. If Mike would try to kiss, me I just went cold. I couldn't enjoy it.
I think I'm starting to understand myself a little better now.
And joy of joy, someone at work actually noticed my changes. But another entry on that later.
Prequels ~ Sequels
Music of the mind: :
~*~Have you read these~*~
~ Ode to a child who is no more ~
~ She's baaack ~
~ testing ~
~ Facebook me ~
~ Bleech ~
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In every neighborhood there is at least one house that all the neighbors gossip about. This is a diary from the woman who lives in that house. I am a single mother in her mid thirties. I live in North Dakota with my son, Warren.
I tend to be a bit of a slob, and am the opposite of a girly-girl. I am geek girl, who loves Star Wars, Star Trek, Harry Potter, Buffy, Angel, action movies, science fiction, action adventure, Dr. Who, and so on and so on.
I love to write and while I don't post much fiction online anymore I would love to be a writer someday. I am also overweight, bipolar and suffer from allergy induced asthma.