Dirty Secret Sunday

I bite all the white tips off the candy corn and throw the rest away

Open Letter To My Body

*this is a repost. I was talking to one of my girls today and we were talking about this...* 

Dear Face…you do not need to have food shoved in you 24/7…you never used to require this and you survived then…you will survive now. Stop it!

Dear Tongue and Mouth…Stop watering at the mere MENTION of food. Seriously. Stop. You’re making the rest of us look “special” (and not the “special” kind of “special” that my mom used to say that I was!)

Dear Stomach…I swear to God that I will rip you out with my bare hands the next time you so much as purr. No purring, no growling, no bloop-bloop noises…NOTHING! They say your stomach shrinks when you don’t eat so much, well, stomach-my friend…you have surely grown in the past 5 months. I suspect you’re the size of a 2 year old since you require so much more food in order to shut you the hell up. Stop it.

Dear Abs…I know and I’m sorry. The search and rescue has ended. I’m sorry. We cannot find you. You were there the last time I looked and then one day you were gone. It’s kind of like a “Deep End Of The Ocean” thing. Now I know how Michelle Pfeiffer felt. So sad. (Do I smell popcorn?)

Dear Boobs...Way to just HANG there. Come on! Up and at 'em! I'm so disappointed in you girls!

Dear Upper-Arms…I GET IT! I saw you waving the FIRST time!!! You don’t need to beat a dead horse. I get it! You can flap back and forth all you want…I’m not looking anymore and quite frankly, I refuse to show you off anymore. I’m going to always hide you under long sleeves. How do you like THEM apples?

Dear Feet…What the hell? Why have you turned on me? Is it because of the extra pressure? (No pun intended!) How do you think I feel? Is that any reason for you to suddenly and without warning start going all sweaty-all the time? And how do you manage keeping them COLD???? Cold AND sweaty…nice. NOT! Stop it!

Dear Eyes…Can you just wait 5 minutes? I promise I am going to go to the eye doctor VERY soon. And what the crap is up with those lines around you...are you squinting too much or are tiny little face elves digging trenches around you? Either way, make it stop!

Dear Liver…Just suck it up for a bit longer.

To the rest of my body,

I know you know that I am going through a lot right now seeing as how you’ve gone through all of it with me. That being said, I don’t understand why you have chosen this time to start going to hell on me. You just wait. As soon as my brain decides to side with me, I am kicking your ass! (By the way...Dear Ass…just because the chair is 20 inches wide does NOT mean you have to be! I don’t know where you have gotten your info, but it’s wrong!) I am going to piss off each and every one of you as soon as I get back in gear. Let this letter serve as your only warning because I won’t be telling you again. Just when you think we are going to McDonalds…we might be going to the “Y” and THEN you’ll know that the Sheriff is back in town. I will do it. So suck it.

My 1st Crush

I was 5. I was in Mrs. Wunch's Kindergarten class. There were four rectangular tables in the classroom and there were 6 kids at every table. Each table was a color. There was a Red table (which I wanted to sit at because red was MY favorite color, dang it!) a blue table, a green table and a yellow table. I sat at the yellow table. I hated yellow. Lisa from across the street from my house got to sit at the red table. Not fair! She always got the good stuff. The red table, the Barbie dream house…the big brother. (I was an "only" and was extremely jealous that she had someone to play with when I wasn't around.)

There was a red-headed boy at the blue table. He faced me and I got to stare at him all day-well, ½ a day because kindergartens back then was either morning or afternoon…not full days for us 5 year olds (which was fine with me! I got to go home and eat my lunch and watch BOZO!) I crushed HARD for that red-headed boy. I had never SEEN someone with such red hair. I have ugly brown hair. Lisa was a pretty blond. My grandma had red hair-but it came out of a bottle and faded quickly back to light brown. I'm pretty sure this boy didn't get his color out of a bottle. His name was Jason. He had freckles-like me. We were soul mates. We had to be, right?How could we not have been meant to meet, be boyfriend/girlfriend forever and get married and have tons of freckled face babies?

So one day, during free time, where we could do anything-color, draw on the chalkboard, play with clay…I decided it was time to make my move. I saw Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyson (such a dreamy name!) put on one of his dads old shirts on over his clothes-backwards. I totally knew what that meant! PAINTING! Red Hair, freckles, a name that whenever I said it would bring a giggle out of my mouth and now I see that he's artistic. Sigh. I go and grab MY dads shirt and ask him if he could button it up the back.

{crickets chirp}

I asked again.

{maybe he's just staring at me because he is just now realizing how beautiful I am! My mom tells me all the time so maybe, JUST MAYBE, he's falling in love with me right this second!}

Before I get a chance to tell him that he IS my boyfriend, and as such he has certain responsibilities -Mrs. Wunch comes up and spins me around so SHE can button me up the back. Sigh.

I paint a big heart and the words JASON *hearts* DEEBOP and I show it to him. What he does next will live with me in my heart of hearts forever. He walks up to me, puts his hands on my shoulders and KICKS ME in the shins before going to the sink to wash the paint off his hands.

I cried. It hurt. And my shin hurt too. I went home that day and cried in my mothers lap. (Years later she tells me that it was cute and funny and she laughed about it to all of her friends! Can you believe it?!? So rude! By the way…did I tell you about the dance my son went to a couple of months ago? Lol)

The next day I went to school and instructed Lisa to not leave my side all day. I didn't want to see Jason. He broke my heart. I loved him. We were supposed to get married and have babies!!! Recess before school started was good-Lisa played 2 square with me. (Can it really be called "recess" if it's BEFORE anything starts?) We go to our classroom and take our pencil cases out of our cubbies. I open mine and-hello? What's this? There is the most BEAUTIFUL bracelet in my case. (It was ugly!) It was PURE GOLD! (It cost 10 cents from a gumball machine) I looked at Jason and he smiled. My broken heart was mended and the wedding is back on! I think I swooned all day.

At recess he told me that the bracelet belonged to his mom and he wanted me to have it. I was in LOVE!!!! I ran into the house to show my mom as soon as I got home. I explained that it was "an hair-loomb" (yeah, kids are dumb) and she told me it was beautiful and we wrote in my school scrapbook that I officially had a boyfriend!Finally! I'm almost SIX, by now-for crying out loud!

I don't know if it was weeks, or months…it could have been DAYS for all I know-Jason broke up with me. He gave "an hair-loomb" to Selena from the green table. A ring this time.

The wedding is off and I am crushed.

Update:

Did you ever see that Jerry Springer episode where the 1,000 pound man had to be CUT OUT of his home so he could go to hospital? I'm not saying it was Jason…. but wouldn't that have been nice? They say Selena moved away, but I like to believe that Jason smothered her with BBQ sauce and ate her-ala Jaba The Hut!

Oh, and by the way...Yellow is my favorite color and has been for years! :)

It’s going to end soon and then she’ll start rubbing and kneading like all the other girls

So I got a free chair massage today at my local Wal*Mart.  Don't ask me WHY they were rubbing down everyone  in town for free...I heard FREE MASSAGE and I forgot everything I was supposed to get.  Sure, they could have  been college students working on some clinical time...Or perhaps they were lonely and wanted to make friends.   Maybe, just maybe, they realized what I've known for a long time...People in my town are knotted up SOB's and  need to relax a bit! Anyhoo...I'm waiting my turn watching them Massage therapists rub down the people before me.  I'm looking at  them like (I would imagine) "FAT BASTARD" (from Austin Powers) would look at Vern Troyer covered in chocolate  cake batter.  I'm feeling better already-just in anticipation of my massage.  It looked wonderful, relaxing and just  plain awesome. Yeah, not so much. My lady beat the CRAP out of me!  Holy hell!  Friggin' OW!  She beat me like she was trying to tenderize a pot  roast!  Nothing felt better than when she STOPPED touching me! Now, you're probably asking yourself "Why didn't you stop her?"  Yeah, that's a good question-you know, what  with hindsight being 20/20 (or some crap like that)  I didn't stop her, because I kept thinking "It's going to end  soon and then she'll start rubbing and kneading like all the other girls." But no.  She beat me up, gave me the international sign for "your massage is done"  (you know, the THREE back  pats that you give someone when you've gotten tired of rubbing and now you're finished) and sent me on my way  with a tear in my eye and a weird mark on my face from the massage chair. So now its 7 hours later and I'm propped up on my sofa, with pillows and a heating pad.  Pain pills are not too  far behind. In other news...I'm out of wine.