The Blot

October 19th, 2008 at 5:51 pm (Uncategorized)

This weekend was phenomenally refreshing. I am so sore, I think my blisters have bruises, but it was worth it.

I spent the weekend communing with the deities at the Blot. For those of you not in the know, the Blot is a seasonal ritual of celebration and honor that my Boys began observing a few years ago. While I will not reveal the structure or details of the ceremony to you, as I feel that is sacred and not to be shared outside of those intrusted with it, I will say that no one faith is represented, ignored, scored, disrespected, or unheard of during a Blot. Even a faith such as mine, which has no name, was not only respected, but honoured by all gathered. I am most thankful for that.

On with the story! The Blot weekend began a BIT behind schedule. This was no big shock to me, as I have been conditioned from YEARS of preparation for trips with the EED to not expect to leave on time…for anything…ever. My Boys, (Ian and Robbie) and I were all going to drive to Greenville in Ian’s truck with the camping gear together at noon. They had told me to be prepared for camping, drinking, and a bit of unsavory weather. I, being the outstanding former Girl-Scout and former military child and wife that I am, came loaded for bear. Not only did I bring a poncho liner, med-kit, duct-tape, changes of socks and clothes, toilet paper, aloe wipes, a survival blanket, and my utility knife, but also brought my purse…just in case. When we were packing the truck, the boys THEN tell me that the campsite is over a MILE hike from where we will be parking and we have to carry in all the firewood we’re going to need, as we’re going to be in a no-cut zone. Wonderful. Time to re-evaluate the weight of my pack. No problem, I was married to the world’s most paranoid survivalist. If I absolutely have to, I can survive a night in the woods with my wits and my pocket knife. (and yes, before you ask, I HAVE done this. It wasn’t pretty, and I don’t wanna do it again, thankyouverymuch)

We meet with Henry and John in Greenville and caravan to the campgrounds. Along the way we had ‘borrowed’ a certain wheeled conveyance from a certain super shopping store that rhymes with hall-cart…yeah…to cart in the firewood. We load up the shopping cart, I mean, the wheeled conveyance, and set out on our hike to the site. One person pushing, one person guiding the front. We have to stop and switch pushers often, as the sheer weight of the wood is pushing the wheels into the now sodden trail (as it was steadily drizzling). Half a mile in, both Robbie and Henry get hyperthermic, their heart rates spike to over 150bpm, and I am forced to call a halt while they take a breather. So I continue to push the cart alone. Of the five of us, I am actually the most physically fit. Don’t mistake me, the boys all did their fair share, however, I suffered the least for it. We finally arrive at the site, and discover that yes, we are going to need to return to the vehicles and pick up another load of wood, for the temperature is steadily dropping and we’re going to burn through much more than anticipated. John, Henry and I set off for the return hike while Ian and Robbie set up camp.

An hour later, the Blot commences! The ceremony was absolutely beautiful and John, our leader, was inspired. Many rounds of Mead were consumed and honour given where deserved. As we burned the bonfire into the night, and fried up some steaks on the grill, (Henry is a master grill man, he may have become my new best friend. That man can cook!) the drinking continued in earnest. About 2am, I notice that not only am I NOT shivering, but that my lips, when viewed in the light of the moon in a hand mirror, are blue. Strange. I feel absolutely frozen, and yet, I am next to a fire, surrounded by 4 human furnaces, and still cannot get warm. Uh oh…hypothermia has reared it’s ugly little head and bitten me squarely on the ass. Time to get me into the tent and wrapped up in a blanket and Man-Sammich. Ian and Robbie are more than troopers going above and beyond the call of duty of friendship cuddling up next to me to keep me warm. The party still goes on though!

A few minutes later, a voice from across the tent inquires as to what he’s holding in his hand. It’s John. He says, “What is this? It’s so soft and wonderful feeling! But WHAT IS IT?!” and Henry, being the ever helpful guy he is, takes the object from him and says, “It’s a bra John.” Apparently one had fallen out of my bag, and John, in his drunken fumbling, and placed his hand upon it. Who knew that silk could make a man so happy? I think he slept with it.

My internal alarm goes off at 630am, of all times. and will not be silenced. Fortunately, it was my turn for fire-watch anyway, and I had a roaring headache. One should not imbibe Mead on an empty stomach. Now it was Robbie’s turn for some Hypothermia fun. Wrapping himself up in a fleece sleeping-bag like a giant fuzzy condom seemed like a good idea at the time. We did not think about the immobility factor. So I kindly helped him smoke a cigarette, drink some water, and sit down on the bench near the fire. I should also mention that Robbie had spent the night topless because his shirt had become SOAKED by the constant drizzle, and was useless while sleeping in the Human Sammich. So I loaned him my Winnie-the-Pooh Sweatshirt to wear until we purchased him a new one on the way out of town.

As we packed up camp, all of us feeling much warmer as the sun came up, if not hung over, we discovered that the cart was MUCH lighter without all that firewood to convey. It still took us over an hour to trek to the cars. We were all exhausted. Unbeknownst to me, the Blot tradition does not end when the camping does. There is breakfast. At Golden Corral. Oh yeah, buffet style dining when hung over? Can it get any better than that?! I’d say not. I do have to mention that we DID take the cart back to it’s proper home. We’re not thieves…well, at least not today.

All in all, I’d say I left the Blot with happy memories, a clear mental attitude for the first time in a long time, and yeah, a small bout with hypothermia…but if you can’t take a bit of the risk, it’s just not worth the experience. And the Blot is worth it. The fellowship is worth it. Hail!

Carissa the Elated.

1 Comments

Riding Along

September 27th, 2008 at 10:18 am (Uncategorized)

“Fake it ’till you make it!”This was said to me this morning by one of my many well-meaning family members, and it infurriated me. More on that in a moment.

I understand the expression. Hell, when I was performing, improving, and dancing on a daily basis, faking it was a way of life. Didn’t know what line was comming next? Make one up within the context of the scene. Couldn’t think of the next logical progression in an improv? State a yes answer, roll with it, and move on. Body just not doing what you demand of it that day at the barre? Pretend it is, and STRETCH. Faking emotions and feelings became second…no…first nature. After spending so much of my life immersed in that world, I found that all I ended up doing was the faking. I suppose if I thought about it hard enough, I might find the origins of a few of the LVs there…

What infurriated me so much about hearing it this morning, was that what this family member was refrencing was putting on the ‘happy’ face. Faking being contented with a situation when in reality, I am anything but. I want nothing more than to rail, and scream and raise holy hell concerning said prediciment; yet social constraints, moral obligations, and yes, even my own conflicting feelings keep me from doing so. However, I do feel that I am allowed to NOT be happy once in a while. I am allowed to lean on those who are safe to me, and be weak, and girlie, and not be in a good mood. Even ‘the life of the party’ has to call a cab and go home at some point.

Carissa the Passenger

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The Reason I Bat for the Breeders

September 10th, 2008 at 8:16 am (Uncategorized)

I’ve always said that I would have made a crappy lesbian. I applaud women who are, for they are better women than me. Let’s face it, attraction to women just makes sense. We’re pretty. We (to make a gross generalization) smell nice. We’re great to cuddle with, and to top it off, we have the boobs, and therefore, the power. Not only can we conquer nations, we can rebuild them with a smile. Men? Not so much. Men have the tendency to lean towards that funk smell. (yeah, man funk can be sexy, it’s full of pheromones and stuff, but not so pleasant most days) They’re great to cuddle with when you’re cold cuz hey, human furnaces. But what use is that in August? They do have that certain appendage that makes life worth livin’. *WINK* However, men, for all their faults, have one thing up on women that keeps me batting for the hetro team. Men (another gross generalization commin’ your way) for the most part, are not big balls o’ crazy.   

Not to belittle my gender, and yes, I’m lumping myself squarely in there with the rest of them. Women can be absolutely INSANE. I’ve seen women do some of the most conniving, underhanded, shiesty, sneaky, downright cruel things to others all over some misguided notion of ‘love’ or (in most cases) blind lust. Most of them don’t even know they’re doing it. Some do it deliberately. For instance, I have a girlfriend who, when in a supposed “monogamous” relationship, found her lover in a certain compromising position with another gal pal, (I think the exact position is on page 178 of the Karma Sutra, for those who want to look it up) didn’t break up with her lover. She allowed him to remain in her life and in her bed, simply for the express purpose of punishing him later. She bided her time, waited for the moment he relaxed into the relationship again…then shredded his clothes, dumped them on the lawn, melted his CDs and DVDs in the garage with a propane torch, (actually made an impressive art peice) and repainted his car with bright green house paint. On one hand, I have to applaud her actions, but I seriously disrespect her timing. The moment for that kind of revenge was the moment of discovery, not a year later.

 A guy friend of mine is having issues with a girl who keeps jerking him back and forth over the ‘relationship’ coals. This guy is almost perfect boyfriend material. He’s honest, charming, treats her like gold, takes care of her, (and yes, he’s hot) not to mention he is emotionally open and ready for a committed relationship with her. Yet, she keeps raking him because she just can’t get it through her skull that he’s not going to put up with her back and forth emotional ping-pong forever. Then she wants to cry about it. Boo freakin hoo.

I myself, cannot take compliment graciously to save my freaking life. Yet heaven forbid my boys or my sweetie don’t notice I’ve lost another 10lbs. I simply MUST point it out and wait for them to tell me to go buy more clothes, because it makes me feel good. If they tell me I look pretty, I tell them the bullshit is getting deep, but them telling me to go buy pants that don’t fall off my ass makes me feel good. Totally crazy. And totally female.  

Have you ever looked at a gal pal and wondered, “Why don’t you just grow a pair, put on your big girl-panties, and get over it?!”. Well, they don’t, because women are prone to insanity. Hence the reason I applaud lesbians. Putting ONE woman in a relationship is trouble enough, mixing two in there? Now THAT’S certifiable. Or heroic. You decide.

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‘Ding Dong the Douche is Gone’ Party Recap

July 20th, 2008 at 7:25 pm (Uncategorized)

After divorcing the worst spouse…EVER, the only thing the LVs and I could fathom to do to celebrate was, naturally, (everyone say it together now!) Paaaaaarrrrrrr-Tay! Of course, we all disagreed as to what KIND of party to throw. Leroy was in favor of beer, strippers, and lots of violence on the TV. Muffy wanted something more ‘no guys allowed, slumber party with the gals’, and Yenta, well…she was voting for a nice, civilized observance of the day. Something like a nice meal with candles, wine, and lots of chocolate. So I split the difference.

I invited My Boys, (Ian and Robbie) The Slappahoes,(Heather and Alex, and their hubbies, Chris and Josh, respectively) and of course, The Sweetie, out to Fisher’s Landing for an evening of drinking, s’mores, and one HUGE bonfire.

The evening did not go exactly as planned, but I do have to mention, that this is not exactly a bad thing. The evening was even better. We had all planned to meet at 8, but life got in the way, and all the players didn’t arrive until 9. Oh well, that gave those of us that were there at 8 a chance to wander around a bit and scope out some driftwood for the fire…and get started on the drinking. Ok, if I’m going to be honest about it, it gave ME a chance to get started on MY drinking. This will come back to play later in the story. At nine, THE BOYS finally arrive and the party gets into full swing.

Chris and Josh build the bonfire up with the quickness and we all make a round of toasts along the lines of “Ding Dong, the Douche Be Gone”.  Those of you who are easily grossed out by ‘romancey type’ stuff, skip down to the **. I have to share one toast with you. The sweetest thing I’ve ever heard came outta my Sweetie’s mouth that night. (Other than the “I love you” thing, DUH) He said “Here’s to the best revenge ever. He doesn’t have her anymore.” I nearly melted on the spot. Total puddle o’ happy sappy goo. Naturally, my immediate reaction was to drink heavily because I don’t do ‘emo’ time well, but, oh yeah, he got thanked later. Lots.

**End of ‘Skip Point’.  As the night progressed, I began dragging out all those little remainders of my ‘marriage’ that had been left in my house. Wedding/old photos, a copy of my marriage license, (can’t burn the original, dangnabbit) my old journal, and some other odds and ends. Needless to say, we all had a grand laugh at some of the stories behind the old photos, and destroying some of the odds and ends was…therapeutic to say the least.  

Then came the part of the party that I had to be told about the next day because I just don’t remember much of it. You see, I had been drinking these really great mixed drinks that The Boys had made. I don’t know what was in them, but let’s just say that they were a BIT stronger than I’m used to, and they made a ‘repeat appearance’, twice, on the ground at my feet during that time. Apparently I revealed quite a bit about my marriage that I wasn’t expecting to reveal! Thank god I had this party amongst friends I know and love and can trust with my very life. Trusting them with a few secrets is no big feat.

After waking up the next morning at the Sweetie’s pad, (and no, I did NOT drive. No one leaves a party I’m throwing without a Designated Driver. Drinking and driving is a big ball of stupid. There is no such thing as ‘hey, I only had a few, I’m good.’ One is too many.) my stomach decided to abandon ship AGAIN, and I promptly decided that I am cured. Freedom tastes a bit like ass, but ya know what? It also tastes a bit like heaven.

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It’s Over.

July 9th, 2008 at 8:34 pm (Uncategorized)

Leroy: Finally. After 5 fucking years, 6 fucking months, and 23 damn days, and 10 long-ass hours, The Female got rid of the Douchebag! I could dance a fucking jig, I really could man. Not that I was counting or anything, but SHEEEIT, it’s been a long time commin’.

Yenta: Language, you ape! Yes, Bubbie is rid of dat horrible man for the legal ways, but she still haf to keep eyes in her back of head.

Muffy: OMG, I know, right? I nearly DIED when they called his name in court and all looked around for him like he was gonna show up and all! As if he could care LESS about the divorce? I mean COME ON! The douche couldn’t even be bothered to return a phone call, one of those summons thingies, certified letter, blah blah blah. Like he’s going to have driven his tushie all the way to NC just to raise a ruckus? SOOOO not.

True, but he always say he never let Bubbie divorce him, he just make wit da shoot. “Much less trouble to just kill you” he say. All da time he say dat. I tell you true I fear for Bubbie all morning till dat nice judge sign da papers.

I’d have liked to have seen his ass show up in court. Oh yeah, that bailiff with the big piece woulda made NICE work of his sorry ass. You can bet on it.

GUYS! Can I get a word in!

Sorry Bubbie. We just so happy for you.

Dayum, Female. We’z just kinda happy for your ass, ya feel me?

Yeah, I get that, but you’re confusing the rest of the world, they don’t have the update yet.

Sorry Sweetie! We’ll shut up. Kinda. Well, after what I just said anyway. And what I’m saying now….Yeah.

Thanks.

So as you readers have probably guessed, the divorce is final! As of 10am yesterday, I am free. It wasn’t easy, as I found out TWO minutes BEFORE I had to take the stand, that not only was I the only person in the damn court that day who’s divorce was going to be complicated, but I was also going to have to testify. Yeah, I had to take the stand and tell the nice Judge that yes, I have tried to, *REPEATEDLY* find his sorry ass and tell him that since he dropped the ball and didn’t file for divorce like he said he would, I was going to. Then the court got a nice laugh when I answered the question of, “To your knowledge, do you or *insert Ex ElDouchebag’s name here* have any physical or mental defects or disabilities?” with, “Well, I don’t know about HIM, but I don’t.” Hey, I swore on a BIBLE to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth to the best of my ability. That answer is the best I had. The Judge even chuckled a bit at that one. So ten minutes later, The Judge signed off on the divorce, and I walked out of the courtroom smiling. Shaking a bit, because yeah, I was terrified. Yenta had a point up there. EED always swore he’d kill me before he’d let me divorce him, but I was smiling. I went immediately to the Social Security office and got a new card with my now-legal maiden name back, then to the DMV and now have a shiny new licence! Today I went to work, *on my day off, no less!* and changed my name on all my paperwork THERE too. Not that I’m at all eager to have my maiden name back in full or anything…no…not me…not at all…

Last night, my boys and my sweetie, all indulged me with a couple of congratulatory shots, many hugs, and even more kudos. I’ll probably throw a ‘ding, dong, the douche is dead’ party later on next week, but last night, the pre-party was just perfect. Thanks guys. Right now, I’m taking my happy, and very very divorced tushie to bed where it belongs!

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Ooo, Muffy had WAY too much free time…

June 24th, 2008 at 9:43 pm (Uncategorized)

So, I updated the “Dating Carissa” (for those crazy enough to attempt it) page. I was almost tempted to put up the newest addition as a general post, as it’s more of a ‘dating tips’ in general blog, but some of them are “Carissa” specific, so on the page it went!

Muffy had way too much free time, so I’m blaming her for most of it. Enjoy!

(look on the left side of the screen, scroll down to the “Pages” section. Locate the “Dating Carissa” link. Click on it. Gooooood Job!)

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Spawn, Mike, and the LVs

June 16th, 2008 at 5:52 pm (Uncategorized)

Let us begin by having a moment of bubbles for the dearly departed Spawn of Fish. (bubble) Yes, I killed another one. I just can’t seem to keep a Beta alive. I cleaned out Spawn’s tank Sunday, and evidently, that was the WRONG thing to do, as a few hours later, he was ‘walking with the humans’. I just couldn’t bring myself to flush him. I made my neighbour, Chris, do it. He, being the nice guy that he is, kindly obliged. Farewell Spawn. I have taken pity on your brethren and vowed to own no more. It’s insane that you give me a human, a reptile, a mammal of any sort to care for, and I’ll not only keep them alive, but they shall be happy, healthy, and *without a doubt* loved. Trust me with a fish? LMAO, not if you don’t want to fertilize the Craven County waste treatment landscaping.

In other news. Some of you may remember a blog I posted a few days ago on my LV site titled “Mike Story Time”. *If you don’t know it, GO READ IT YOU FOOLS!* Just by happenstance, I actually had a very long conversation with Mike himself over AIM last night. It was thrilling to catch up with that crazy Mo’Fo’ again. It had been over 4 years since the last time I talked to him. How insane is that?! But we picked back up again like it had only been 4 minutes. I love having friends like that. Some people come into your life, and they just leave such and impression, that your soul remembers theirs no matter what. No matter how much time has passed, when you DO reunite, it’s like you just click again. I can count those friends of mine and run out of fingers, and I’m proud of that. I don’t think it has anything to do with who I am, I think it says a lot about you all. I’ve said it before, and I will continue to do so, I have the most amazing friends and family on the planet. I wouldn’t trade any of you for your weight in gold. (and have you SEEN the price of gold nowadays?!)

On a more personal note: I got called a whore the other day. Not by anyone who matters, mind you. True, it was by someone who has actually slept with me, so it is kinda ironic.(wouldn’t that make him a ‘whore fucker’?) LOL He wasn’t joking. Now, I can take a joke, I can even call myself such, as I think any woman who takes dinner and a movie as payment for ’services’ is kind of a whore without the cash, but he was TRYING to insult me. I think laughing in his interweb face was kinda mean and catty of me, but I digress. He called me such because I won’t sleep with him again NOW. (This was 7 years ago that I did in the first place) Not my best moment in history, I’ll admit, but dude, when did NOT fucking someone earn you whore status? I mean, the US dollar is worth LESS than the Japanese Yen, A porn star is governor of a state, phat means cool, which is hot, and saying ‘no’ makes you a whore? I’m so confused!! So after promptly pointing out the error in that logic, I deleted his little tushie from my contact list and proceeded to move on with my night. But the convo DID get me thinking…

What does define whore status? Is it a state of mind, or a lack thereof? To me, it’s the lack. When you remove the choice from the scenario, and are sleeping with someone JUST to be sleeping with someone, that’s whory. When you’re making a choice to have sex because you want to have sex WITH that person, by all means, to each their own. It’s a fine line, but it makes a huge difference. At least, it does to me. *as Leroy is cheering me on, and Yenta is mentally smacking me for even using the word ‘whore’ so many times*

Carissa the Befuddled

2 Comments

I Was There

May 31st, 2008 at 5:27 pm (Uncategorized)

Singularity.

I was there.

Many congrats are due to all involved in making Singularity such a huge success! If you weren’t there, you just don’t matter. It was THAT huge. This event may go down in the annals of history as one of those ‘I remember where I was when’ moments akin to knowing where you were when Indy first donned his fedora, when Heston dammed those dirty apes, when the bank was first lit afire. This was the moment when Earl Newton not only debuted Episode 4 of Stranger Things, “The Latchkeepers”, but also when he CLIFFHANGERED us between acts two and three only to shock us all with the news that… Wait.

I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me back up the bloggy train a bit, and review.

Singularity started with the usual audience chatter of all us fans getting to our seats, comparing gossip, and generally speculating as to what wonderful things were in store for the upcoming event. Most of the speculation was WAY off. I, wisely, kept my opinion to myself, as I knew what was coming. I’m all kinds of cool like that. (or annoying. You say potato. I say hash browns.) I’m sitting next to Terry, (very SMOKIN hot momma, and an awesome chick) and we’re waiting on Singularity to get started, when who should walk on stage but David Kanter of Audiometrix fame. (The sound and the soul of “Stranger Things”) I had spent some time previously that weekend hanging out with The Dave. (I will admit to having a BIT of a jealous reaction to his hair. The man has some gorgeous curly locks. But what’s inside that melon is even better. I digress.) The audience and I were delighted to hear him introduce Matt Wallace and interview him. (The writer of “The Latchkeepers”) Dave did a great job, and Matt ‘effin’ Wallace and he kept the audience entertained and itching for more. By the time they had wrapped up the interview, we were all SO ready to watch Ep. 4 that I literally saw a few members of the audience salivating. Hell, I had to wipe my chin!

The lights go down, Terry and I are in the front row, RIGHT in front of the screen. We both slide down in our seats, tilt our heads up and prepare to be blown away. We were NOT disappointed. From the first frame we were so caught up in the story that we forgot ourselves and were gasping and jumping in shock right along with the characters on screen. As I looked around the audience (during a scene that I had already viewed; again, cuz I’m just that effing cool) I could see them all reacting just as vehemently. Some were even outraged when a main character looked as if she might be in serious peril. Then Earl goes and pulls a CLIFFHANGER! ARRRRGH!!! I couldn’t believe my anger at this moment! I was THERE when he shot most of act 3, I didn’t need to see it to know what was going to happen, but I was so caught up in the film that I couldn’t stop myself from shouting out “What?! Make with the more, man!” (um…sorry Earl. It’s THAT good. Couldn’t stop myself.) Terry is laughing at me and we’re gripping each other’s hands just waiting for the next act when Earl steps out on stage.

DEAD SILENCE from the audience. We know whatever Earl is about to say, it’s going to be HUGE. And it was. “Stranger Things” is coming to TV!! Whoo to the bleeping hoo!

You can SEE what happened during the announcement here: http://strangerthings.tv/updates/28

Did you watch it? Good. Did you notice the brief cameo by me during the crowd shot? *sighs* Go watch it again. I’ll wait. Look to the right. Wearing shorts. *sighs* Never mind. Pay attention to the story.

Act 3 plays and the audience, myself included, goes absolutely NUTS when it’s over. “The Latchkeepers” is, in my opinion, the best work ST has done yet. The effects are stunning, the story is amazing, the actors (especially Cherub, who I just can’t say enough good things about) each brought a uniqueness to their roles, and Earl’s direction can’t be faulted. (though I’m sure he’ll look at it in a year and think of SOMETHING to change. *rolling my eyes and smiling*)

When the lights came back up, the standing ovation was enormous. As well it should have been. I, of course, got my “I Was There” t-shirt, and then grabbed Earl, Dave, and even Terry in many successive hugs and congratulatory kisses on cheeks. I don’t think I’ve STOPPED grinning yet. So, to the cast and crew of Singularity: You did a damn fine job. You deserve many kudos, and consider this the sound of my hands clapping! *the sound of my fingers joyfully typing this blog*

Carissa the Blown Away Fan

1 Comments

Meet the Voices

February 16th, 2008 at 6:02 pm (Uncategorized)

New page is up! Titled “Meet the Voices” and is your first chance to see a bit of what goes on inside MY head on a daily basis. Not for the weak of funny bone, or the faint of heart when it comes to profanity. (Leroy can get a little…blue) Enjoy.

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Little Boy Blue

February 15th, 2008 at 4:46 pm (Uncategorized)

Tooting my own horn is unusual for me. Pull up your squares of carpet, folks. I’m about to blow that sucker like Little Boy Blue.

In the past 18months, I have lost over 100 pounds. Yep. For those of you keeping track, that’s 20 more pounds than an Olsen Twin. That’s almost a BackStreet Boy. That’s two, *count ‘em* TWO large bags of dog food, ten bags of kitty litter, or almost 80 pairs of Jimmy Choos. (I have shoes on the brain lately. I’m blaming Muffy, she’s having shopping cravings) I was talking to a new friend just yesterday about some of the coolest things I’ve noticed now that I’ve got this ‘new’ body. Some of them, like fitting into old clothing from college, are obvious, but some are so obscure that most of you ‘average’ or ’skinny’ people would never even think of them. So I decided to list them. You may consider some of it bragging, and you may consider some of it so mundane that you’ll be bored to tears, but I’m happy about it, and if you don’t like it, in the words of Leroy “Kiss my glistening bald black butt while you’re back there!”

Some of the best things about being 100 lbs lighter

  • Being able to walk across a crowded room without hurting people.

  • Using a regular blood pressure cuff at the doctor’s office.

  • Ordering a dessert at a restaurant without getting ‘the look’ from your waiter/waitress/other patrons.

  • Buying regular width shoes.

  • Seat belts in cars don’t lock if you adjust your arms.

  • Someone assumed I played sports in High-School. ME?! Sports? WHA?

  • Not worrying about breaking plastic lawn furniture.

  • Taking a flight of stairs simply because the elevator was too darn slow, and the stairs were actually faster.

  • Sitting in a booth with my boyfriend, and we both had elbow room to spare. (not that we used it, but it was there if we wanted it, and that’s the point. LOL)

  • Hugging my friends and feeling their arms actually go AROUND me for the first time.

  • Hearing someone call me “the pretty, tall one, in the corner” when describing me to someone who hadn’t met me.

  • Doing a split for the first time in 10 years.

  • Adjusting my bra straps DOWN a size in the back.

  • Arguing with my girlpal over who the wolf-whistle was aimed at. And losing because it was aimed at me.

  • Learning to accept compliments that aren’t false.

  • Being able to look at catalogs and have the option of ordering from one because the sizes include ME now.

  • Swimsuits no longer cause panic attacks.

  • I don’t fear starting a fire if wearing corduroy pants.

  • My hands are the only things that wave when I say hello and goodbye.

  • I can wear my boyfriend’s jacket, and zip it up, and be warm.

  • Only ONE chin to powder when applying makeup.

Some of you won’t understand half of those things, and some of you are smiling and nodding because you understand EXACTLY what I’m saying. Those of you who are in the SAME boat I was 18 months ago, and hating it, email me. I won’t recommend a weight loss plan for you, because I firmly believe that no person is going to lose weight until THEY are ready to do it. Nothing I say is going to change that, and what I did to lose weight isn’t going to work the same way for any other person on this planet. (because I can’t really pinpoint exactly WHAT the hell I did anyway) But I will be here for you. I will listen. I will slap the mess outta those people that ‘mean well’ when they give you all that ‘advice’… *groan*

And for those of you hating me at this moment: nyeh nyeh nyeh nyeh nyeh. Kiss my bald, shiny, white, skinny butt while you’re back there, if you can catch it. I’m going for a hike. I have the energy now.

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