Today I was overcome with a little cloud of blue. I'm not sure why. Was it the phone call from my Sister, to my Mom? I overheard my Mom's responses and laughter. Funny, how I knew EXACTLY what my Sister had asked her on the other end. *sigh* I wish she'd stop it! But she won't and somewhere in my head I am going to have to compromise.
My Sister wanted to know if I had met anyone, if there was a new boyfriend, with hopes of kids soon. That's what she asked my Mom. She was grilling Mom for evidence. Have I been staying out later than usual? Dressing differently? Going out on dates? My Mom wouldn't know these things....I don't think. I am very private about my private life. Why? It's because I don't enjoy the sisterly grilling. Maybe if she went back to her old, old ways (before marriage life and kids) of smoking dope; she'd get off my nuts? (I am secretly wishing for a big time job at Starbucks for their benefits. Did you know they have a plan to help you adopt, if you're interested? I'm not lying. Check their site yourself. It's in the career section.)
Which spike in my life fucked me up so bad that I can't handle being in my own body and dating? Maybe it was the kids in grade school making fun of my limp and mirroring the way I used to walk to get a rise out of every one. Or was it the Ex-boyfriend, who cheated on me with girls who looked like strippers and wore 5 layers of make-up. I was never pretty enough.( I hardly even wear make-up. Oddly enough, I have a natural eyeshadow look to my lids, but there's nothing on them. I do love my lipsticks.) Was it the kid who saw my scars and kept yelling at me,"what's wrong with you?", even though I chose to ignore him. He was a child, I was a teenager. I should have thrown a rock at his head. Or the men my age who scoff at me because I am not their Barbie doll fantasy with spikey heels and short gowns. Yea, it's rather difficult to wear heels when you have a birth defect. Of course, if I snap at you and tell you this, I'm the unfeeling asshole.
Maybe it's all of the fucking above. I have a right to be pissed off some days. Some days I just am. Some days I hurt because I can't run the 2 miles I so desperately want to, in order to be in better shape and have stronger muscle tone so my body does not fail me. It just works out that way. Tonight I will probably cry myself to sleep, while listening to Jeff Buckley. I hope to inhale his beauty. Tommorrow I'm gonna slip my Vans on, smear on a coat of my fave lipstick and I'm gonna go dancing. I'll bet you $5 I'll have more fun than you and I'll do it smiling.
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