Happy ‘Fucking’ Thursday my friends. May it be a good one.
Love, Sparkly Nee
YES, YES, YES, YES, YES, YES!!!
Er, well, maybe not. No my fellow pervs, I’m not writing another erotic entry. Today is about me. Then again when isn’t it? It’s a good day. I saw Super Therapist. I made him laugh and blush. He questioned me about how I felt about my anger on a certain subject. I told him I felt betrayed and abandoned. Like I didn’t matter. He asked if my anger left me helpless. I explained that now that I’m pissed, it proved I was fearless. That I could move forward knowing what I want. What I need.
It’s time to get up and Try, Try, Try as my girl, P!nk would say. I’m going to meet that woman someday.
The first thing I need to do is lose the 30 fucking pounds I’ve put back on. I’m an addict. Food, alcohol, the written word, validation, exercise, etc. You name it, and I’ve been addicted to it. I slunk back into the Medical Weight Loss Clinic yesterday and talked to my favorite counselor, Crissy. She has a huge crush on Roger Darling. Whenever she speaks of him, she blushes. I peed on sticks, weighed myself and waited for her to rag on me. She didn’t. We discussed a cleanse and going back on Plan. I wanted to scream, shit, fuck and dammit. I kept my mouth shut though. I purchased 10 weeks of the program and told her I’d be back to weigh in and buy my protein supplements on Friday. Shit, fuck and dammit!!!!!
The next thing to do is go to the gym. I started this good habit again a couple of weeks ago. I bitched and whined the entire time. I suffered from shitty insomnia and a racing heart. Roger Darling and I kept going though. I’m so damn mad at myself. I was running three miles, four to five days a week. My arms were sculpted with muscle. So were my legs. I’m walking at a fast pace and getting my ass kicked on the elliptical.
Rog and I have a goal. We want to do the Color Run on May 11, 2013. I will be wearing a tutu, tiara, white shorts and t-shirt. This bitch is gonna look HAWT! Then we’ll get sprayed with paint as we meander our way to the finish line. There’s muscles to be regained and weight to be lost and maintained. I’ll do it again. I’ll fight the good fight. I revel in the fact that my battle will only take 10 weeks instead of the original 15 months it took me to lose 150 lbs.
There’s this novel I’m writing too. Today is one of those days when the words flow like sweet honey. I ache to write all day. My day job prevents me from doing so. I’m an old school writer, even though I’ve only been doing this for a little over a year. I write notes in my journal. The few words I jot down jog my memory and help me fill in the blanks when the time comes to create.
My main character Ian has written the other main character, Maggie their first love letter. He slipped it into her notes for his class. She hasn’t even read it yet. What will it say? I’m not sure yet. I’m sure it will have to do with her hair the color of flames and eyes the color of the sea. He’s a bit of cad though, so he may write something filthy too. We’ll see. BTW, this book is a love story. I promise you it will not be shitty. The love scenes will make no mention of the word inner goddess. I like the words cock and pussy and I’ll be sure to use them liberally. The love notes are the key to my story. They are.
Time to finish up some work. Eat an orange. Drink more fucking water!!! I swear to you I’ve an ocean floating around inside of me. Then it’s off to the gym and red meat and salad for dinner. Yup, this Sparkly Girl’s going to do it again.
Gotta get up and Try, Try, Try. Gotta get up and Try, Try, Try. Hey, if I don’t get to meet her, I can at least look like her. Giggle, snort!
I try my best to throw myself into my writing on the days when I hurt. It seems my best work comes from those days when it rains in my heart.-Me
It’s been almost a year since I started this silly blog of mine. It has evolved. I have too. I’m not even sure who I am anymore. I like this new person I’ve become though. I do. I’m proud of the words that I write. The goofy and sometimes profound things I say. The music, the madness, the dirty stories, and the friends I’ve made. This is quite a community. I’m so pleased to be a part of it. I love to write. Everything. Everything. Everything. This is my calling.
I have been nominated for over 20 awards this year. Over 20! Five just last week. I need a trophy case! Growing up, I was the girl that was always picked last for sports and I never won anything. I was the weird girl. The drama girl. The musician. The loud girl that was looking for attention and someone to love me. I had huge boobs too. That’s about all I had going for me. Fortunately I married a wonderful man. Had great children. Made a good life. There was sadness and depression in this life too. Addiction.
That’s how all of this started. I was transforming; evolving. I was losing 150 lbs and re-discovering myself. As a woman. Not just a wife and mother. But a woman. I was learning that I was viable and vibrant. Beautiful. I shared my story and found that it was the story of so many others. We’re all going through our own lives of quiet desperation. I’m not trying to sound arrogant when I say I’m beautiful. I never thought I was. I still struggle with it. I totally get it when P!nk sings, Don’t Let Me Get Me. I’m prone to self-destruction. Madness even. Here, in this sphere though, I feel safe. Normal. It is my haven.
Everyday I fight a war against the mirror
Can’t take the person staring back at me
I’m a hazard to myself
Don’t let me get me
I’m my own worst enemy
It’s bad when you annoy yourself
Don’t want to be my friend no more
I wanna be somebody else
The groovy thing about this award is you can give it to as many bloggers as you want. My list is long and probably doesn’t include everyone that is should. If I’ve forgotten you, I’m sorry. Also you can win this award up to six times, so pay it forward. And send it back to me if ya want. Wink, wink.
So here goes:
The Wanderer’s Thoughts: Because she writes beautiful poetry that melts my heart.
Boomie Bol: Because every word she writes is like music.
As Long as I’m Singing: Because he is my brother. He is. Well, I wish he was anyway.
Brainsnorts: Because he’s sarcastic and funny. Most of the time. I love every word he writes.
Tales of a Charm City Chick: Because she’s damn hilarious and beautiful too.
Christopher De Voss: Because he’s damn funny and gorgeous too.
Dean J. Baker: Because he was one of my first followers and his poetry makes me swoon.
You Know You’re Borderline When: Because she taught me that it was okay to be BPD.
Worldly Winds: Because I’m a sucker for beautiful poetry.
Breathtaking Portraits: Because I like pretty pictures of, everything.
Kyle Mew: Because there’s nothing like reading the lustful words of a dirty poet.
Susan Daniels Poetry: Because her poetry speaks to my soul.
Lead.Learn.Live.: Because David loves my potty mouth and thinks I rock. Oh and I think he rocks too.
Rincewind Erotixx: Because I love pin up style photography. And I think the female form is beautiful. Just beautiful.
Stories by Williams: Matt gave me one of my first award noms. Plus he’s a sci fi geek. And I just love me some sci fi.
Mind Retrofit 7: Her poetry is cosmic and mystical. Stars, moons and clouds are some of my favorite things.
Oyia Brown: Because she writes everything well. And she reblogs me. I love it. It warms my heart.
jensinewall: I love her photos, observations and writing.
Cat Forsley: She is a beautiful poet. A songwriter too. I know that if we lived closer, we’d be fast friends.
The Change You Life Blog: Because Stu was one of my first followers and has turned into a dear friend.
Just a Thought: Because her poetry is sad and dark. And she loves P!nk, just like me.
A Thin Girl: I love Susannah’s tag line, never judge a girl by her weight. She’s funny, sad, sarcastic, and all kinds of other good things. She makes me long to live in NYC.
Paula Acton: Because she is brilliant and British. I love her writing. Plus she wears her hair in a Pixie, just like me.
The Reclining Gentleman: I just know he’s young, dashing and handsome. He makes me kinda tingly with his writing.
You Jivin’ Me Turkey: I followed this guy because he’s a quotes whore and so am I. I have found him to be so much more though. He’s a charmer and a sweet, sweet man. I long to share a cozy couch, 80’s movies and popcorn with him.
I believe that now. I really do. The only limitations I have are the ones I put on myself. So now I don’t limit myself. I know I can do any damn thing I want. Who knew I could lose 150 lbs.? Who knew I could write and have over 400 followers from all over the world? Who knew I could raise two incredibly bright children or be married over 23 years? Who knew I could make you feel every word I write? Who knew any of this could happen? Who knew that at the age of 44, I would finally be comfortable in my own skin? Who knew? I thank you my dear Jason for sharing this song with me. I hope you know how much I adore you. Oh and I still think that you should be wearing your hair like James Dean in a sexy pompadour.
We are so used to numbing ourselves with food. However, we are no longer numb.
We are alive.
We want to experience everything.
We have the rest of our lives to do just that.
We are so afraid though. We’ve never felt so free. Freedom scares us.
(Yeah I said this. I know it’s scary that I can say something so profound, but dammit I swear I did!)
I was talking to a dear friend today who is struggling to find herself. She and I numbed ourselves with food for so long it’s hard for us to feel without hurting. It’s like that of an autistic person who’s senses are in hyper drive. It’s the same for us that have broken out of the addiction of food. Our bodies are finally free but so are our minds. Let me tell you our minds can think and do some crazy shit.
What she and I feel is static electricity running through our bodies. It’s a restlessness I can’t even explain. It’s the feeling that we need to go out and experience everything we couldn’t when our bodies were morbidly obese. The euphoria is amazing, but it’s also exhausting. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I don’t think I felt this good when I was in my teens. I know I didn’t. I can tell you why. Because now, I’m thinking like a teenager and like a woman confident in her body. Confidence is sexy, but sometimes I’m a little too damn confident!
B. finally got herself out of a marriage that was no longer working. After losing weight the light bulb went off. She realized that what she was doing was merely existing. And she got tired of raising a husband like a child. She decided the best option for herself and the children was to move on. I have supported and loved her through it all. My heart breaks and cheers for as she struggles to find happiness. B. has no idea how incredibly strong she is. I am so proud of her. Yes, I’m envious in some respects. Not so much in others. Her life has been tumultuous. I hope that my words and actions have eased some of her pain.
We’ve both lost 150 lbs, each. Yes, an entire person. That person dragged us down, made us tired, and unhappy. We are finding though that we are still weighed down. With doubt, uncertainty and sadness. We are still searching for balance. For bliss. We may never find it, but we will go through hell looking for it. And I know she and I will always be at each other’s side. We’ll hold hands and love each other through it all. She has been my constant for 30 years.
I can’t say that I haven’t had my issues while going through such a profound transformation. I have thought about running away from my life and starting over. There are so many questions unanswered, and so many what ifs going through my mind. I struggle to find peace within myself everyday. I fight battles with a mirror, and my psyche. Fuck I’m a mess, but my sparkly heart is good. I seek new people and new connections every day. I look for new ways to thrive. I can’t sit still for long. If I’m stagnant, then I die. And baby I’m not dying for a long time.
I remind B. that her heart is good, but she must be guarded with it. Do not give it to the first person you meet. Do not tell them deep, dark secrets. Keep those inside and share them with the right one. I know she will find someone that is good for her, but she has got to find peace within herself first. Be happy in being alone or with her kids. Know that what she is doing is right. All I want for her is peace of mind and happiness. I want it for both us.
I know you all think this is going to be a great post about Empty Next sex. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but this story is about the fight for space in our queen sized bed. Roger and I as you know have lost 246 lbs. in the last 18 months. As our sizes have decreased so has our need for so much space in bed. Unfortunately our dogs have compensated for the extra space and moved on in.
Roger Darling’s dog, Freddie the Fucker, must sleep on his pillow. Between us. My dear husband has to sleep on his side with his ass hanging out of the blanket in order to sleep. Sausage Dog, Heidi Jo Jo must sleep between us. Sideways. She makes the major decision before settling down for the night just who’s body she needs to sleep on. It could be my left hip. It could be Rog’s legs. Or on special occasions she’ll root around, crash into Roger’s crotch, and land right on his “Boys”. Then it’s Dashel the Shithead’s turn to find his spot. Which is usually my right hip with a paw draped over me. It leaves me pinned by Heidi and Dash. I have to lay in a stick straight position like a strawberry Twizzler.
After we settle in, I read for a few minutes. Roger immediately crashes and falls to sleep. He has learned the hard way that if he sleeps too close to me, I may just slap him in my sleep. Or stick my finger up his nose. Do not ask me why I do this crazy shit in my slumber, because honey I don’t know. That’s like asking me why I do crazy shit when I’m awake. There’s no plausible explanation for it.
At 5 am like clockwork, Freddie the Fucker decides it’s time to go outside. He would never think to jump on Roger Darling. Nope. He has to use my tummy as a springboard. Then the rest of them follow Roger outside. Five minutes later everybody has to settle back in again. Heidi Jo Jo has to bring a toy with her though. Usually it’s a pink flamingo squeaker toy. She lays on my pillow, bites down and squeaks her damn toy in my face. I scream, throw the toy across the room, and tell her to shut the fuck up! We then drift off for maybe a half hour and then the day begins. With us getting ready for work and the puppers running the household.
We love our dogs. We love our bed. And we love each other. We’ve learned that sex in the afternoon while the dogs are awake is so much more practical. And it’s kinda fun doing the dirty dirty in the daylight anyway.
Beauty is truth’s smile when she beholds her own face in a perfect mirror. –Rabindranath Tagore
I stand in my bedroom and stare at my image in the full length mirror. I’m wearing my Victoria Secret bra and underwear. Just standing there. Staring. Knowing that I will be damned if I will stand in front of the mirror stark naked. I do that as little as possible.
As I look at myself I see all the flaws. I don’t see the pretty, almost wrinkle free face, the blue eyed, blonde goddess that people say I am. I see the sagging skin, the tiger stripes from having children, the deflated boobs from extreme weight loss.
I see the stretch marks from weighing 325 lbs over a year ago. I see the sagging skin under the upper arms, not the magnificent biceps that I’ve sculpted with weight training and lifting 100 lb. dogs at my grooming job. I see the empty skin of a stomach that used to protrude from being so obese. It’s now empty but will never really recover the muscles and shape from when I was young and thin. Not without surgery anyway. I refuse to have surgery. To alter the progress that I’ve made. It is my Badge of Honor. It reminds me of all of the incredible work that I’ve done. The progress I’ve made. The positive changes that have happened in my life in the last year.
I see dented skin on my inner thighs. Even with all the running, the exercise, the leg presses, they will never look like I want them to. But my calves, my calves they are exquisite. Those I’m proud of.
No, surgery is not for me. I’ll take the flaws. I’ve worked hard for the flaws. For in them there is beauty. In them there is strength. In them there is proof that I worked my ass off. Oh and I’ll make sure to wear a girdle, and pretty bras, and pretty corsets. For even though I live with these flaws, there are ways for me to still look ravishing……
There is no try, there is only do.–Yoda
It’s July 8, 2011.
Back from vacation.
Made it through the week without cheating.
Except for the alcohol.
But finally have decided to let it go.
No more excuses…..
Tired of being sick.
All the damn time.
Wonder of wonders, the weight comes off faster.
Down over 50 lbs.
Still dealing with sadness.
But happier, for the most part.
Feel horrible for disappointing Roger Darling.
Still loving him, but distancing myself from him…
Walking like crazy.
Feeling the urge to run.
In more ways than one.
My Bologna has a first name its: H-O-M-E-R!
hold a mirror up to life.....are there layers you can see?
Welcome to my world.
My mind's a mess. My heart's a wreak.
Get Your Swoon On