What did I do to deserve this?

I went to see a clairvoyant a couple of weeks ago. He told me that I am incredibly fortunate because I am surrounded by an army of soul mates. According to Wikipedia, a soul mate is ‘a term sometimes used to designate someone with whom one has a feeling of deep and natural affinity, love, intimacy, sexuality, spirituality, and/or compatibility.’ For some absurd reason...I truly believed that I was already pushing my luck to have the extraordinary experience of marrying my true soul mate for life...let alone being surrounded by many others! What did I do to deserve this?

My husband and I are cut from the same cloth; he is my perfect match and absolute best friend on this planet. I truly believe that he is carrying one half of my soul and holding it up to the sun for the entire world to see... and simultaneously guarding it fiercely. I know finding your life soul mate is a rarity...and in having one...I know I also have much to lose! I feel that my life is unbelievably blessed. In fact, I feel so fortunate that I live in sheer terror every day because of it. The clairvoyant went on to explain that soul mates are not only lovers...but also may be ordinary people sent to us to teach us extraordinary life lessons.

My self esteem and soul have been literally put through the wringer over the last couple of years. I took the chance of a lifetime and ventured out of a very comfortable and confident environment into the unknown...from the world of nursing into the world of business...and from a personal growth perspective...things did not work out for me. For the first time in my life...something did not come easy and I could not cope with it; I never had to before...I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. I had the wind kicked right out of my sails...and then the sails were slit with a knife...and then shit and pissed on by a rogue pack of dogs...and then trampled on by a pack of elephants...you get the picture. I was beaten down to a pulp...focus lost, afraid, feeling worthless and tired. To add insult to injury...I was surrounded by some people who ‘get off’ on inflicting pain on others...on kicking them down until they can no longer even consider getting back up...make them spit blood and a tooth out...and then kick them down again until the victim is toothless...then break the dentures...you get the picture.

The ‘they’ that I refer to are a heartless string of evil people that I encountered in the business world...not just one person...but many...one-after-another-after another. ‘They’ can smell ‘insecurity’ and ‘they’ grin from ear to ear while ‘they’ pound the last ounce of piss and belief out of you...until all that is left is a tremendous and overwhelming sense of self doubt. The only way ‘they’ can feel big is to make others feel small...and I kept inviting them in! For some reason unbeknown to me...I continued to put on my game face...and eagerly walked right into the perpetual shit-kicking every day for four years...believing that some day it would all work out in the end...some day it would get better...but it didn’t...it got worse. I let it get the best of me....and I wasted so much time! You see...soul mates can be evil too...and it took me more time and bad lessons than I would like to admit to learn my lesson. The lesson was simple...why does a dog lick it's balls? Because it can! But instead of sticking up for myself...and telling these people to drift before any damage was done...I just kept sitting there wondering....day after day...asking for more shit sandwich please.......wallowing in self pity...what did I do to deserve this?

My entire life I have been able to float from group to group...person to person...and seamlessly integrate myself into any situation. I could eat lunch with the Queen of England...and party with a biker gang on the same day! I prided myself on being a chameleon...I participated in multiple life adventures...I could quickly sense a common bond with anyone...’change my colors’ and go with it...making everyone along the way feel good about themselves. The down side to this ‘talent’ is never really belonging anywhere...a square peg in a round hole...alone in a crowd...and profound loneliness. In the end, I was all-consumed by this negative experience...why was this happening to me? I felt myself to be too ‘strong’ to ask for help...to accept help...I felt unworthy and helpless. I near let myself drown before accepting the outstretched hands that were there all along. There they were...my beautiful soul mates...my gal pals...waiting patiently to pick me up and dust me off. What did I do to deserve this?

Until just recently, I did not pay any attention to these blunt messages in the form of soul mates being sent my way...in fact, I kept on inviting in the evil ones and I batted the beautiful soul mates away like flies! I was being sent soul mates left and right...with messages loud and clear...but I could not hear them. I am constantly surrounded by people encouraging me to write a book...tell a story...they want to hear what I have to say. Why do I continue to doubt myself...why am I so scared? I have a friend discover she has breast cancer...another thyroid cancer...another endured a near death experience...what was God trying to tell me? All of these messages were clearly telling me life is too short...you cannot count on tomorrow...you cannot waste another minute. Why wouldn’t I listen? Why couldn’t I hear it? There are no tickets for sale in the ‘lottery of life’. I am not going to win the ‘life-lottery-sweepstakes’ and suddenly wake up 100 pounds lighter tomorrow with an over stuffed bank account a published book and a ‘perfect life’. Despite these life altering experiences...they all continued to encourage me to write my book...to speak publicly...to put myself out there. Who would have thought that my life passion could be easily handed to me by an otherwise casual observer? Who would have thought that ‘soul mates’ could see me better than I could? They all took time out of their precious lives...and looked past their own personal battles to tell me that they believed in me! The least I could do in return is clean the shit out of my ears...and listen to the whispers of my soul mates...and believe in myself. In absolute awe of this overwhelming support and encouragement, I asked one of my newest found soul mates "What did I do to deserve this?" She was exasperated with me and answered..."You were born... dumb ass!"

‘I have seen and met angels wearing the disguise of ordinary people living ordinary lives.’ (Tracy Chapman).

Lynn
;)

BEEEEEEEG LOUD BEAUTIFUL WOMAN

Just over a decade ago, my husband and I went diamond ring shopping before getting engaged. He wanted to see what I liked...I wanted control over what I was going to wear on my finger for the rest of my life. (This may come as a surprise to those who know me, but I happen to be a control freak.) So, we sauntered into THE local jewelry store in town to peruse the goods. Our plan was simply to see what I liked...point out a style of a diamond ring or two...and then hubby would make the ultimate decision and ‘surprise me’ with a pre-approved ring someday. It most certainly did not go as I had planned.

In my opinion, ‘THE’ jewelry store in our area has no competition. Their jewelry selection is superior to all...for half of the price. It is owned and managed by a local Greek family. I believe all of the employees are members of THE FAMILY. The store itself stands alone in an ‘out of the way’ location. There is high security there...mirrors, cameras and guard dogs in the main office. You have to push a button to be buzzed in and buzzed out. This high-security-level has sparked a rumor that this family-run store is affiliated with the mob...and to be perfectly honest… I don’t care if the rings have been chopped off of dead woman’s fingers because their jewelry is gorgeous with good prices!

We went straight to the diamond ring section and started looking through the glass cases filled with various styles of rings. I zeroed right in on the solitaires...because in my heart of hearts...I have always wanted a diamond solitaire ring. As I was leaning over the display case looking at the rings...the larger-than-life matriarch of the Greek family approached us and asked if she could assist us. My hubby said ‘we are looking for a diamond ring for our engagement’...and I excitedly pointed out a solitaire ring that I wanted to see up close. She looked at my selection…leaned back and crossed her arms across her huge bosom and said “NO”. I didn’t think she understood...so I said “oh yes...I want to see that diamond solitaire ring right there”. She leaned forward to speak...as if I did not hear her the first time and in a very thick Greek accent she said “NO...I say NO!” Now just in case I was hard of hearing...or possibly deaf...or partially retarded...she also shook her head in a defiant manner and waved her finger back and forth making a letter ‘Z’ in the air...changing finger directions in the air with each word...”NO” (across the top...”I SAY”...(back in the opposite direction)...“NO!” (Snappily finish off the air Z in Zorro-esque fashion). My jaw dropped...I did not know how to react to this....I started to wonder if I was on candid camera!

The larger-than-life big momma of the family leaned in very close to me, pointed her larger-than-life finger at my chest and quite loudly proclaimed..."You are NO TINY”…she opened her arms really wide and continued “YOU BEEEEEEEG...LOUD….BEAUTIFUL WOMAN...so you need...BEEEEEEEG...LOUD...BEAUTIFUL RING!” I meekly replied...”BUT...I wanted a solitaire”...and she loudly cut me off and once again and said “I SAAAAAAAAAAAAID NO!” She picked out the tray of trinity rings and said “You PEEEEEEEEEEEEICK ONE of these!” My jaw dropped again...I did not know how to react to this. I felt like a scolded child...I decided to stand my ground...and I shyly whispered,” can I see the solitaires?” She leaned forward...pointed her larger-than-life finger at my chest and reinforced her ground AGAIN...“I DOOOOON’T CARE! You are a BEEEEEEEG...LOUD….BEAUTIFUL WOMAN...so you need...BEEEEEEEG...LOUD...BEAUTIFUL RING!” and just like the soup Nazi on Seinfeld she said “NO SOLITAIRE FOR YOU!”

So, like anyone else fearing their life would do...I dutifully slipped on a trinity ring...and I instantly fell in love with the ring that I currently have. Now, you’d think my husband and I would have learned our lesson...we should have picked the ring she wanted me to wear and left...but nope...we didn’t. My hubby said “how much for this one?” She quickly snapped her head in both directions….apparently fearing that somebody heard his ridiculous question...she was ugly that he would mention such a thing in front of me...and she shot him a death glare (if you looked up “absolute disgust” in the dictionary you would see a picture of her face). She screamed at him “SHUUUUUUUT UP!” Who knew that simple words could actually whip across your face like a slap? She quickly pointed her larger-than-life finger at me and she said “YOU... BEAUTIFUL WOMAN… GET OUT!” I quickly decided that I did not need to be told twice and ran out to the car...after being buzzed out of course.

Mike and I had a strict budget...neither of us were interested in buying jewelry that is the equivalent in price of a luxury vehicle. We vowed to stick to the budget...regardless of unexpected death threats. After she revealed the price to him...he adamantly said “no way lady….that is not in our range”. Again, she quickly snapped her head in both directions…and whispered…“SHUUUUUUUT UP!” She lowered her head, covered her mouth to ensure that nobody could read her lips...and continued on “I like the BEEEEEEEG...LOUD….BEAUTIFUL WOMAN…she will have this ring…now pay….and GET OUT!” Risking his life at this point...he insisted on the next size down to accommodate our price range...and nervously crept sideways to the cash register (a la soup Nazi) and got buzzed out to safety.

A couple of weeks later, when Mike went to pick up the ring...the Greek matriarch was there patiently waiting for him. When she opened the ring box,the original larger-sized diamond trinity ring was staring up at him. My husband started to protest...he said “no lady...remember we downsized and paid for a smaller size.” She quickly cut him off, waved her hand in the air like she was batting away his words and calmly said, "I have no IDEEEEEEEEEA what you say about...GET OUT!” He tried to explain that he had paid for the smaller version...and she cut him off again, “I like the BEEEEEEEG...LOUD...BEAUTIFUL WOMAN...she will have this ring!” Again, she quickly snapped her head in both directions...shoved the ring-box in his hand and whispered “GET OUT!”

Now, I could end this story right here...all happy with my shiny diamond trinity ring...and simply “SHUUUUUUUUUT UP!” But, the story does not end here. Six months later...we returned to THE jewelry store to select our wedding bands. I don’t know how many of you out there believe in destiny, kismet, fate or any of the above...but somehow in a store of 20+ employees...we got the big momma again! I asked to see the plain white gold wedding bands. She looked absolutely exasperated with me and she said “look lady...you no tiny...OK? You BEEEEEEEG...YOU LOUD...YOU BEAUTIFUL...you need BEEEEEEEG...LOUD...BEAUTIFUL RING.” She picked out the matching diamond band for my engagement ring and said “this ring goes with that ring….here you go...that’s it.” I said “BUT”...and she twirled her finger in dismissal...willing me to turn around on my heels and GET OUT!

Cultivate your curves - they may be dangerous but they won't be avoided.
Mae West

Lynn
;)

IGNORANUS

An IGNORANUS is a person who's both stupid and an asshole.

My first experience with an IGNORANUS that I can recall was when I was just a young girl...about 12 years old. I was quite fit and active...just had a little baby fat. One day at the beach...a man from my church (an adult...and I say that sarcastically) came out of the water...looked at me amongst all of my girlfriends and said “ I thought the water line went down!” (meaning since I got out of the lake). I said “of course it did...you and your big mouth just got out!” Sadly, this first IGNORANUS experience has permanently scarred me...is tattooed on my brain as if it happened yesterday.

I have written about his before...the nightmare of being a fat chick at a buffet table at any social gathering of any kind. My parents always eat a meal before going to any sort of social gathering and they will not approach the food table or eat one single morsel in public...ever. I have always thought this to be a really sad outlook on things...I actually told my Dad he was being foolish. He said “people stare and point and comment on everything we (big beautiful people) put in our mouths.” How sad is that?

My parents are built like me...or I guess I should say I am built like them...we are tall and big stock (except my vertically challenged sister)...we are all a little thick around the middle...but we do not need a crane to extract us from the house in case of emergency! So...imagine my chagrin...as each and every social event I have ever attended since...showed my Dad’s philosophy on fat people eating in public to be tragically 100% accurate!

Unfortunately, my sister Lori has been victim to ignorant assholes as well. She has a mid calf amputation. You would never know it...because she climbs mountains...and the word CAN’T is not in her dictionary. Lori rarely uses her disabled parking pass. Once in a while, her stump gets ulcers and it becomes too painful for her to walk…so she’ll use it to park then...and only then. One day, she and her girlfriend were getting out of her car to go into a store...and some jackass...a total stranger...screamed...”I DIDN’T KNOW BEING FAT WAS A HANDICAP!” Excuse me??? I can’t even comment on that one...but I can say Lori’s friend almost had a stroke…and immediately started a starvation diet.

Another time...a high-and-mighty-big-assed-nosey-female IGNORANUS ran up to my sister’s car as she pulled into a disabled parking space...tapped on the window and said “YOU DON’T LOOK HANDICAPPED TO ME!!!” My sister very casually replied,”OH... REALLY?”and she quickly shoved her stump out the car window...shook it in her face...and said “WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THIS?” We both squeal in laughter every time Lori tells me about the look on this idiot’s face! Sometimes when I am feeling down...I will give Lori a call and beg her to repeat the story about the look of horror on that woman’s face and swiftly running away screaming!

Last week, I went to a social event that offered light fair...jumbo shrimp, bacon wrapped scallops cheeses, meats, veggie trays, sandwiches and some chicken wings.So, I had a little saucer with about 6 finger sized jumbo shrimp and a little seafood sauce...with my wee glass of wine. My stepson had his plate piled...a hungry growing boy...a handsome and skinny boy. My tiny perfect husband also had a plate full of goodies.There were about 100 people digging away at their appetizers...and then...like a dark thunderstorm cloud rolling in...some big-tall-beer-gutted IGNORANUS decided to darken my world and rain on my parade. He nudged my husband...pointed at my plate...and boasts loudly above the music...HOLY CRAP DOES SHE LIKE HER SHRIMP OR WHAT?????? WTF? I was flabbergasted...he was a total stranger!!! I have since learned that this man was a highly respected educator in the community...exposed to kids!

Even if I did physically resemble ORCA the killer whale(which I do not)...what the hell are people thinking when they do this? Do they actually get a high from it? I just don’t get it. I would never...under any circumstances make fun of someone for anything. Now I know people would say...just ignore it...don’t listen to that idiot...he’s not worth the energy...but that is not how it works in reality. It hurts and burns to the core...just like having your ass branded. I did feel pretty in my little cotton denim dress and hot lime jacket...but after the comment...I felt like an ugly and obese pig face...runny snout, pot belly and all. I wanted to scream at him...punch him in the face. I answered… “Well you are ugly...at least I can diet!” It was all I could do...not to cry my eyes out!

Rationally I know my emotional reaction is absurd...but it doesn’t matter. I wanted the floor to open up and suck me in...I wanted to go home...I wanted to scream a barrage of obscenities at that ignorant bastard. Is this really any different than going up to a blind person and saying…na…na…na…na….na…. you CAAAAAAAANNNNNNN’T see!!! Ha, ha…you are blind as a bat…..hey gimpy….you are missing a limb!! Oh my God your nose is big! Or…I hope you are pregnant! I wish I could say this is an isolated incident...but sadly...I’ve been an involuntary victim at each and EVERY social event that involves food of any kind. How on earth is this possible in this day and age? So, from now on...I will eat before attending any more events to save myself from any more IGNORANUS.


The most violent element in society is ignorance. ~Emma Goldman

Lynn
;)

Everthing I ever needed to know, I learned in kindergarten

I have just received news that my kindergarten teacher Mrs. Meaghan has passed away. I am devastated at the loss...and I am flooded with very warm and fuzzy memories. This woman had such a tremendous impact on hundreds of children lives over a 45+ year-teaching span...including my brother, sister, me, my 2 nieces, and my nephew...just under the line before mandatory kindergarten came into play and ended an era.

Mrs. Meaghan's kindergarten class was amazing! It was the most amazing place! She had a way of making each child feel like they could rule the world...or at least I felt that way. We learned the alphabet...how to print... how to tell time, how to tie our shoes...and manners of course! I had a MAJOR hard time getting a grip on tying my shoes. I just couldn't get it. After shoe tying lessons...poor Freddie Frigault (my little French boyfriend in the black and green plaid coat)...tied his own shoes with ease...and had the audacity to shoot me a smug and smirky look...like "I know something you don't know". I was fit to be TIED(pun intended)!!!!!!!! Unfortunately for Freddie...he gave me the shoe- tying-demonstration at the top of the stairs...I believe if memory serves me correctly...I smacked the hell out of him...tried to push him down the stairs...and stormed off in a psychotic rage. On kindergarten graduation day...Mrs. Meaghan put me in the back row for the ceremonies and the pictures (I am the blonde babe in the very back left hand corner).I had no idea that it was because of our height...I marched right up to Mrs. Meaghan and informed her that I was NOT back row material! I WAS BEYOND UGLY!!!! I can assure Maybelline there is no such thing as 'maybe she's born with it"... I was BORN with it!

I do not remember who the gal was in our class who thought she was going to have Randy as a boyfriend (he is the other tiny little brown boy in the yellow turtle neck and Enrique Suave plaid suit and vest!)....but I do remember pushing her the hell out of my way...and plunging myself down beside him. I adored him...forced the poor bugger to kiss me (much to his obvious displeasure)...same as poor Freddie (an involuntary victim of my affection)...I wanted both...and my cake and theirs too! I planned to marry both boys...and we would all live happily in a tree house! Thank goodness for 5-year-old innocence....as I was later devastated to learn Randy was my cousin....placed in a seat beside me due to the alphabetical order (same last name)...oops!

Who would have thought sugar cookies and red Kool Aid could taste so amazing? Or how about that "Chef-Boy-R-Dee spaghettios"/wonder bread combo? She used to grill the bread in the oven with orange cheese and some fresh oregano or basil or something fresh and green on it. I have tried this combination many times since...but they never tasted the same as Mrs. Meaghan's magical afternoon snacks. I remember a little cork board in a small wooden frame with a tiny hammer attached by a string...and various wooden shapes to nail on....a large piece of art paper with a glued-on-flower-pot made out of red construction paper. The entire class painted their 5-year-old version of a flower bouquets...popping out of those construction paper pots...she proudly posted these priceless objets d'art all over the walls of the room for graduation day...you'd think it was the Louvre for the way she beamed over them.

One of my favorite days ever was the day Santa Claus came to visit. I could NOT believe Santa personally came to Mrs. Meaghan's kindergarten class! Just when I thought it couldn't get any better...in he came with a big red bag and some belly bottom Ho Ho Ho's!!! I already thought she walked on water....but then this too? HOLY @#$%! As you can probably imagine....there was a roomful of wonder-struck 5-year-olds with mouths wide open and eyes popping out of our heads! "Santa" (we are now on a first name basis) called me up to sit on his knee...reached into that big red bag... and gave me a shiny new story book, some crayons AND a coloring book. I thought Mrs. Meaghan was the best thing since the Crayola-multi-colored-crayon pack came out(that was a 20 pack instead of 5),with the crayon sharpener right in the box!!! She put the color into my life!

Some 45+ years later....all of Mrs. Meaghan's 'kids' still reminisce about their days in Mrs. Meaghan's kindergarten class....with wide toothed grins. I was fortunate to cross paths with Mrs. Meaghan many times since my big graduation day 35+ years ago. I was able to tell her that I loved her...adored her...and owed many of my successes in life to her extraordinary talent...I told her she was the BEST kindergarten teacher in the whole wide world! I loved her...everyone LOVED her...we still do. Thank you Mrs. Meaghan...for teaching me everything I ever needed to know in life...in kindergarten!

If I Could Teach You, Teacher

If I could teach you, teacher,
I’d teach you how much more
you have accomplished
than you think you have.
I’d show you the seeds
you planted years ago
that are now coming into bloom.
I’d reveal to you the young minds
that have expanded under your care,
the hearts that are serving others
because they had you as a role model.
If I could teach you, teacher,
I’d show you the positive effect
you have had on me and my life.
Your homework is
to know your value to the world,
to acknowledge it, to believe it.
Thank you, teacher.

By Joanna Fuchs

Lynn
;)
P.S- Special thanks for the picture Jennifer Dunlap Goostrey! You ROCK!

If I wasn't fat I'd be perfect...right?

Every time I embark on a weight loss journey, I typically almost get to the 20 pound mark...and then eat and eat and eat some more. I leave the scales...from whatever weight loss program I happen to be on...elated that I am 1 pound away from a bench mark...super motivated more than ever to hit that big number the following week...and then eat myself into a really nice 5 pound gain in one week. I am not sure 100% why...but this pattern has been going on for the majority of my adult life.

I have a major problem whenever I start to lose a significant weight...fear. The root of this fear...or what I actually fear...I cannot pin point…but I have made major progress in identifying that I am scared...uncomfortable...terrified really. One time when I was about 50 pounds lighter I went out to dinner with my husband. There was a table full of business men...they were 50ish and I was 30...they would not STOP staring at me...they were inappropriately eye-screwing me all night.I asked Mike “why are they STARING at me like this?” Of course, being a wonderful (and sometimes wise) hubby he simply stated “because you are so beautiful baby!” I suppose this is every woman’s dream to hear such a thing come out of their hubby's mouths...but it did not comfort or soothe me...I wanted the floor to open up and suck me in...I feel incredible anxiety right now just speaking of this. Why...I do not know…I was so uncomfortable! I remember I had to pee...but I could not bare getting up and walking by the table of perverts. Normally, we do not indulge in dessert when we go out to eat...but I immediately started building my fat shield right back up again...and ordered caramel saturated cheese cake. I did not stop eating for the next 3 months...until I reached my original heavy-weight title again.

Four years ago I lost 50 pounds on the ‘Simply For Life’ plan. This was the all time greatest weight loss I had ever accomplished…and quite easily I might add. I was also running regularly...about 15-20 km a week. To be quite honest...I never felt better in my life...until the attention came! I gave away all of my fat clothes...declared I would never be fat ever again...and quickly ballooned up to 275 pounds! So...what the hell happened? I looked amazing...I felt amazing...and then people (mostly men) started treating me differently and I could not handle it. I love to flirt...safely flirt that is. I flirt with married men or gay men...or strictly unavailable and unattainable men...and I had on my “wonder woman-esque” wedding band for safety...you know those wrist bands Wonder Woman wore to deflect bullets? I can blind their stares with the shine of my diamond...and make them forget what they are thinking! But...as my waste line shrunk…the harmless flirting suddenly became tainted. Men, who respected me, with whom I had worked with or hung out with side by side, man friends who I joked around with for years...suddenly became giddy, awkward and distant...would run away and whisper amongst themselves...or avoid me altogether. I was the same person I always was...nothing changed...I was a happily married woman...just skinnier.

So, subconsciously...or maybe even consciously...I started to rebuild my fat shield. I ate anything and everything in sight to put everything back to ‘normal’ again. I was really successful this time, I stopped running and gained 60 pounds in 6 months...I managed to get to the heaviest weight I have ever been. I am smoking like a trooper and feel like shit. Everything did return to "normal"...the men flirt comfortably with me again...no ‘real’ danger here...I am back in my safety zone...no attention, no stares...just personal misery and a desperate need to lose weight again in order to feel happiness...successful...worthy.

So, in the end, I guess this experience blows the “I’ll be happy when I lose this weight” theory right out of the water. People often blame all their troubles on their weight. When you shed pounds, you may expect everything else in your life to get better--your love life, friendships, career, perhaps even your finances. If those areas don't improve, you no longer have your weight to blame, and you must face the fact that your abilities or behavior, rather than your weight, may be the true cause of your troubles.

I can often be quoted as saying "If I wasn't fat I'd be perfect." I get a good chuckle every time I say it...and I do say it to be funny...and some how I really mean it when I say...but I don't really believe it... When I lose weight…I fear losing myself...who I am...even though I don’t really know who she is. I am scared people will have higher expectations of me...I doubt my abilities...I fear that my full potential will never be reached...I fear failure...I fear success… When I finally lost 50 pounds, I was not happy...I still had my bills and same issues and insecurities. I was uncomfortable and scared...my life was far from perfect.I was still a chubby chicken...just in a smaller version...fat chick in a skinnier body. I let the fear of life...without my fat barrier get the best of me every time.

“I am afraid to show you who I really am, because if I show you who I really am, you might not like it--and that's all I got.”-Sabrina Ward Harrison quotes

Lynn
;)

Bras...THE FRENEMY!!!

Have you ever noticed that everything breaks or malfunctions all at the same time? I have never owned a watch for more than three months. I am not sure if it is my internal electromagnetic field or what…but they all ultimately fail or mysteriously disappear (maybe go to “sock heaven”…now there’s a theory!) Either way, I do not buy expensive watches because I know their fate the day I buy them. All of my make up runs out at the exact same time…or the shadows and blushes all crack and break. I also have had the misfortune of electrical appliance break down all at the same time! In one week my Braun hand mixer, toaster, coffee maker, and blender all died…that was one hell of an expensive week!

A couple of weeks ago…I had disastrous “over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder” breakdown. One day I was walking along…minding my own business…and suddenly felt a stabbing pain in my armpit…an all too familiar pain…which was total blow out of the under wire in my right ‘cup’. I literally have permanent scars in my armpits and chin from these blow outs! I shit you not…a couple times the under wire has popped right up the center…like a cleavage -jack-in-the-box and stabbed me right in the chin! Typically, I just rip out the offensive piece of wire and move along…with crooked boobs for the rest of the day. One time…I ripped out a dysfunctional under wire and whipped it on the head of a male colleague and said “Hey Johnny…now you know your hat size is a 44 double D!” We all had a great laugh out of that one!

This takes me back to another wonderful time in my life when I was single. Now I would LOVE to maintain the illusion for any of my male followers that I only wear G strings, hot red leather and lace, ass floss-esque-undies… and Victoria’s Secret diamond encrusted bras (with the big ass wings, 6 inch heels and fan blowing in my face)…but unfortunately…those things sit in the back bottom section of my underwear drawer for very special occasions only…where functionality is not required…and average wear time is less than 10 minutes…and walking in the heels is not actually required. In real life…real women prefer Wal-Mart granny panties and comfy bras! So, I digress…in those single days…all I did was work and party…sleeping was not priority. One night, after a 12 hour day shift…I threw all of my laundry in the washer and went out to paint the town red. When I arrived home…I was hammered and seeing double…and threw everything in the dryer…so I would have something fresh and clean to wear to work in the morning. Imagine my surprise…when I opened the dryer…and discovered that all of my under wear collection and nursing uniforms were washed with a permanent black ‘Sharpie’ marker!! I was lucky because some of my undies looked intentionally like they were from the “101 Dalmatians’” collection! Flat broke and with no time to spare…I whipped on my “dysfunctional-black -spotted –underwear” and ran off to attend a physical assessment seminar. Imagine my horror…when I learned at the end of the day…we all had to strip down to our undies and don a patient gown…and ‘assess’ each other. Besides being humiliated with the Dalmatian-spotted Wal-Mart specials…I also had some nicely placed holes in my panties…a little ‘muff-puff’-peek-a-boo” if you know what I am saying! I wanted to projectile vomit!

So, imagine my dismay as I suffered bra breakdown over the next 3 days…until I was down to the emergency stock…which are 2 sizes too small…not fit to be seen in…tortuous devices…that should only be worn in a “break glass in case of emergency” situation. You all now what I am talking about…the ones your mother warned you not to wear…in case you got in an accident? Where “Grey Cup” is not just the name of a big football game in the Canadian Football League? The “MacGyver bras”…that are missing hooks, have holes, hair dye on them…and held together with a safety pins, duct tape and chewing gum? How about the Thanksgiving bras…you know where “my cups runneth over?” This is what makes my bras my frenemy… a blend of friend + enemy. According to Dictionary.com, a frenemy is “person who is ostensibly friendly or collegial with someone but who is actually antagonistic or competitive.” My bra is all nice to my twins in the beginning of that day…but as the day goes on…the bra twists, tightens and torments like a boa constrictor…laughs at me…and then blatantly stabs me in the armpit or the chin!

Obviously, I was left with no choice but to get out and buy some new stock….and I decided that I was going for quality rather than quantity. I went to a classy BBW (Big Beautiful Woman) store…or as my mother would call it…”the chubby chicken store”...to be professionally measured for my correct bra size. I simply told the woman that I would not accept a “G-CUP” rating…so lie if she must! After a good little chuckle…I was shocked and pleased to hear that I am actually a 42 D. She introduced me to the most comfortable bra I have ever met. Typically, as soon as I get home…my bra is whipped right off over my head and slung-shot across the room before the door closes behind me! This new bra feels like my second skin…and lifts the twins right back up to their rightful place in life…no more staring down at the ground in shame! I look like I have lost 10 pounds…and I feel like a million bucks! I got a tame nude bra…and a funky chick wild woman bra…with multi-colored bright stripes and matching undies…both functionality and sex kitten qualities! So, bottom line…I am no longer a fan of neither the “101Dalmations” lingerie line…nor the Wal-Mart granny panty special…I am holding my fingers in the Brownie promise position…and I swear to build myself a spectacular and environmentally friendly bra collection!

“The only gossip I'm interested in is things from the Weekly World News - 'Woman's bra bursts, 11 injured'. That kind of thing.”-Johnny Depp

Lynn
;)

Grocery Store Rage

I used to enjoy grocery shopping. It is one of the few times where you are away from the phone, internet, and other daily distractions that prevent you from thinking straight. I used to enjoy taking my time...wandering the aisles...clearing my thoughts....hanging around in my own little world....but then....some IDIOT...invented the 'kiddie-mini-grocery-cart'. I am not talking about the carts that look like race cars with steering wheels....where children are properly restrained directly below their mother's bosom. I am talking about those damned little grocery carts for kids...the world's best baby sitter....for unruly children to run rampant throughout the store...and terrorize everyone else but their oblivious ignoramus parents.

I am a creature of habit. I have my own little routine that I have followed religiously since I became an 'adult' and had to buy groceries for myself. I need to stick to this routine...otherwise I forget things. One day....on my way through the produce aisles...all I can hear...and everybody else can hear...is the non-stop high pitch squealing of some mindless woman blabbering:
JACOB!jacob...JAcob,JAY....COB!!!!jacob...JACOB...JAYCOB....jaCOB...jacob...jacob,jacob, jacob...JACOB....JAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYCOB...JAYCOB...jacbob...JACOB....jacob...you get the picture...this would carry on aisle-after-aisle-after-aisle. It didn't even matter if you were an aisle ahead....or an aisle behind....the entire store was held hostage...involuntary voyeurs to BAD parenting! This little 'angel' was given free-range...like the expensive boneless chicken...to run amok with that damned kiddie cart...running into displays and other shoppers as he pleased...while mommy from hell mindlessly hollered on...not even looking in his general direction...living in her own little world....destroying the world of everyone else!

It is times like these that I am grateful that nobody can see a ticker tape screen on my forehead of exactly what I am thinking. I was totally understanding road rage at this point...grocery store RAGE! I was thinking of pulling a Patrick Swayze roundhouse...you know...that backwards circular kick into the air where I would knock the mother's head right off her shoulders? I imagined the floor opening up like a trap door and swallowing that ill-behaved tot with the kiddie cart right into the bowels of the earth....never to be seen again. I imagined a whole bunch of little vignettes that involved the demise of that moronic mother...or child custody workers taking the kid....to save him from an almost certain life in prison or as a heroin addict...or serial killer...but instead...the terrorizing saga continued...JACOB!jacob...JAcob,JAY....COB!!!!jacob...JACOB...JAYCOB....jaCOB...jacob...jacob,jacob, jacob...JACOB....JAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYCOB...until I LOST it in the coffee aisle.

The same IDIOT who invented the kiddie cart...obviously placed the coffee bean crushing machine at toddler-eye level in aisle number 8. While 'mother of the year' was relaxing at the greeting cards for a little light reading....Jacob the Terrible...proceeded to flick the switch...and create a mountain of fine ground coffee beans all over the floor. I am not kidding...the coffee mound was at least a foot tall. I SNAPPED....and I admit I was inappropriate....but not as inappropriate as I wanted to be. I grabbed on to Jacob's hand and said..."let's go see Mommy JACOB"....He happily grabbed my hand (which is frightening unto itself) and proceeded to visit with Mommy. I tapped her on the shoulder and asked...."Does THIS JACOB Belong to You???????" She appeared confused at first...seeing how she would have no idea what Jacob actually looked like...and how on earth would a total stranger know her kid's name?? I proceed to say..."if you want to bring up a MONSTER...that is totally your business...BUT...much to my chagrin...it has become my business...since you have decided to terrorize the ENTIRE grocery store with your precious little JACOB!"

She was outraged with me...enough to grab onto little Jacob's hand and storm out of the store. Two women applauded...several others mouthed "thank you!" as I proceeded on with my quest for groceries...with a victorious smile on my face....and absolute silence until I reached the check out.

“When you left your home, you deprived the village of it's idiot”-anonymous

Lynn
;)