My Life in Paradise

because I only wish I could make this sh*t up…

I read because…

….words will rip themselves from the page and be embedded in my brain…

“What I wanted to do was to fasten my index finger and thumb at the bolts of your collar bone, push out, spread the web of my hand until it caught against your throat. You asked me if I wanted to strangle you. No, I wanted to fit you, not just in the obvious ways but in so many indentations.”

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I won… Say it.. I won.. I won…

Anyone who knows me knows I know every word there is to know from the movie Tank Girl.  At one point in my young life I wanted the comic book version tattooed on my body.  I’ve since grown up and realize that missile boobs are going to crash and look like deflated balloons in the next 19 years or so.

But I did win, or at least I think I did.  I’m getting married.  The girl “who would never get married” is getting married.  Setting the date made it a little real, sending in the venue contract made it a whole lot more real.  This is a happy kind of real and a reminder to start blogging more lest I forget the funny and important parts of planning this monumental event.

  • Venue – done
  • Hair and makeup – done
  • Dress – flying to California soon
  • 100,000,000 other things?  still.not.done

Whatever – the point is for all of this to be fun.  There have been days even recently that I was a crying mess because I thought a wedding was just going to be a disaster and that I should go live under a banana leaf in Thailand.  (Why Thailand?  I have a backyard full of banana trees so I clearly wasn’t being rational….not news…)  I have LadyFace and LadyFairy and a very bold Dragon on my side to continually say “is that what you really want?” and it works.  They are amazing.

It’s going to be fun, it’s going to be fine.  My most favorite people ever will be here, the whales will be migrating and everything else is just extra.  I plan to spend an inordinant amount of time the week before making things with LadyFace while drinking fruity drinks and wearing Hello Kitty pajamas because that’s what I want.  My invites have skulls and octopus on them, because I want them too.

Somewhere during the growing up thing I’ve been doing was realizing I get to have the life, the wedding, the fiance, the car, the education THAT I WANT TO HAVE – not what’s been dictated by other people.  So yay, I’m spoiled – not news.

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Take all you want…..but eat all you take……

I wasn’t an overweight child.  I wasn’t an overweight teen either.  But when I was eight, while on a trip to Australia, it was impressed upon me by my Australian grandparents that I could take all I wanted at meals, but I had to eat it all…….and you didn’t argue with them….ever…and those words stuck like glue!

Somewhere in my early adulthood I started to gain and lose 100lbs at a time.  My weight never stopped me from rock climbing, dating, dancing, combative show jumping, dressage, ranching, muay thai, savate, traveling or anything else.  And then it did……..in my late 20’s I went from a 12 to a 20….in my early 30’s I went to a 22……this year I hit 24….and no one stopped loving me but me….but lemme tell ya when I decided to be an asshole to myself I was meaner that I’d ever been to anyone in my life…..

……and I stopped allowing photos of me….  I argued with people who have loved me from size 14-24 that I was no longer beautiful or sexy….  Getting engaged added it’s own dread because if I hated myself in the mirror, I was going to hate myself in my wedding pictures… and weddings are too fucking expensive to hate myself at!! So I decided something had to be done!  No idea what, but something!

Last week or was it the week before?  Irrelevant…  I was in therapy and we were discussing my thoughts on weight loss surgery…  WLS has been wildly successful for everyone I know, but something has been holding me back….  I could get weight loss surgery, but a surgery doesn’t deal with my food coping mechanism now does it?  NOPE!

So therapy goes on and all of a sudden the light goes on….the times I’ve been thin(ish) I didn’t have a compulsion to eat under stress…. why is that?  Because I was exercising regularly and the exercise took care of the stress part!  DUH why hadn’t I thought of that?  I immediately texted my brother (the.most.handsome.man.under.30) with my revelation and to paraphrase it his response was “DUH” said with much more care.  He’s been trying to tell me this since before my knee surgery, I just wasn’t listening.

So enter CoachJ my new swim coach.  I meet with her 3-4 times a week and next week or the week after I have to start dragging myself to the pool by myself.  Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately)  even if I offered her a small fortune she won’t let me get reliant on only swimming with her poolside.

So I’ve been swimming twice this week and guess what disappeared   My desire to eat when I’m not hungry.  The cokes have disappeared from the house, replaced by bottles of water.  (Leave off the enviro rant please – our tap water is NASTY, even a Britta doesn’t help)  Today after swimming I went to Costco for glasses and I was starving when I left so I grabbed a slice of pizza – yummm…….and I didn’t eat it all, I didn’t have to forcefully stop myself I just looked down and thought “huh I’m done” and wouldn’t you know it Grandma Joan’s voice popped into my head…..luckily it popped right out again as I tossed my pizza and wandered back to my car..

This isn’t meant to be an anti-fat post or an anti-weight loss post.  I have to lose weight or I’ll be in a wheel chair..  My knees and my psyche demand change, if yours don’t then don’t.  Love yourself where you are at and for the amazing who that you are.

Oh and read this blog post.

The post made me realize that if I disappeared tomorrow there would be 1000’s of pictures I’ve taken and only a handful of me, none of them with the people I love most.  (Yeah Ladyface that means we are getting pictures together before my wedding so put on your spanks babe!)

<the end.>

(or maybe the beginning)

!!!!be gleeful!!!

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Humping through the middle of the semester…… Almost not about cocks…..

I have less time than usual to devote to writing and being funny..  Well I think I’m funny.  You might not…  Anyhooooooo…

So  I emailed GermYoda to complain about my upcoming test on microbial metabilism and for tips on Iceland.as.a.vacation.spot because GermYoda is the only person I know other than me who thinks going someplace like Iceland  is the.greatest.idea.since.gram.staining!

So GermYoda being the.coolest.queer.ever (even HomoKiwi will agree on that) suggested I visit the Iceland Cock Museum…  Not kidding!!  The Icelandic Phallological Museum actually exists!  It’s a real place dedicated to preserving penis’…  In jars or dehydrated or salted or whatever…  I have always loved detachable penis’ even before RadioHead made them famous..

Additionally lest the whole trip be about a penis museum (which would be fine!) I zero’d in on the prettiest spa I’ve EVER seen and it’s of course in Iceland!!  Lots of beautiful pools and boxes of mud to smear all over myself.  I haven’t figured out if it’s a bathing suit + or – place yet.  0_o  My diet plans need to know.

I may have to call them tomorrow..

I don’t speak Icelandic..

This could be funny…

Until then here is yet another picture of Buckminster.The.Pony.Sized.Dog – he’s so handsome and he really can take up the whole futon.  But only when he’s wet from playing in the rain and spawls out nose to tail as long as possible to insure the futon is not useable EVER.AGAIN by anyone but him!

I’m So Pretty!!!!

PS..  That is the dining room rug not a persian bamboo futon.  I don’t think the persians had futons and probably would never mix wool and bamboo…..

PPS…  Buckminster.The.Pony.Size dog is not going to Sweden or Denmark or Iceland with me..  He’s not Viking enough except that he’s more Viking than me since he’s part mastiff…….  Whatever – he’s not going!  Unless he learns to kill roosters in which case I’ll grand him any wish his pony size heart desires…

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