Question: What do all of the following things have in common?
1. The noise from the construction site across the road from my office.
2. Vampires.
3. Public transport.
4. Vaccum cleaners.
5. the cafe near my house shut at 4:00pm.
6. Straws.
7. Miscommunication.
8. Mosquitos.
A. They all suck.
cmx
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
sweet six pack.
Yesterday morning I found myself at the pool. I did my laps and felt satisfied. I'd managed to do something productive before someone or something came along and fucked my day up. After lapping, I'd hopped out of the pool and was drying myself off. A tall man walked towards me with a smile on his face, I checked frantically to make sure I was still in my swimmers (thankfully, yes. everything was still in it's place) and looked him straight in the eye with what must have been a very puzzled look on my face. He said to me "Oh whoa! That is an awesome scar! From far away it looks like you have a sweet six pack." and walked off.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
skinny bitch snippet #1
My mum is amazing... mentally unwell but means well. When she found out that boyfriend and I had split she ran down to the nearest Borders and got me what she thought were a couple of books that would help me through it. This is in line with my usual post break up behaviour but I have a tendancy to walk past SELF HELP and straight to Sociology... Mum didn't make it that far and as a result I am a proud owner of Skinny Bitch, Skinny Bitch in the Kitch (the matching cookbook) and Skinny Bitchin' (some kind of fucked up journal).
I have picked up Skinny Bitch and started reading it only becuase I have finished all of the books that have been lying around my bed and I was starting to get desperate for distraction while waiting for peacal to lend me the latest Twilight novel. The book is so afwul it makes me want to vomit everytime I pick it up. It is so stupid that it actually hurts my brain to read it and I told a girl on the tram who was reading it to "throw it out the window! It'll be the best thing you ever did!"
The idea behind this book is that it's a "no nonsense, tough-love guide for savvy girls who want to stop eating crap and start looking fabulous" and it's written by two former Ford Models. Oh yes... I'm sure the two incredibly beautiful and concerningly skinny bitches on the back know all about being overweight and having crap skin and having a love/ hate relationship with sugar like I do. Errrgh.. Makes me seven kinds of mad really. I know how hard it is to lose weight. I have the pictures to prove it and these girls are making it sound like a click of the fingers to change your attitude about food and exercise and SHAZAM! you can be a skinny bitchin' ex ford model alien looking creature.
This is my favourite:
"Don't smoke. Don't even try some pathetic excuses such as , "but if I quit smoking, I'll gain weight." No one wants to hear it. Cigarettes are for losers. They are so totally 1989 and uncool. Smokings out. Give it up."
Oh yes... because it's so simple to give up smoking you vacuous bitches. Just like that. You say it and it's done. Excuse me while I rip my own head off and ram thirty cigarettes into the gaping hole and light them all at once.
It's kind of what your book makes me want to do. more to come as I can stomach it.
cmx
I have picked up Skinny Bitch and started reading it only becuase I have finished all of the books that have been lying around my bed and I was starting to get desperate for distraction while waiting for peacal to lend me the latest Twilight novel. The book is so afwul it makes me want to vomit everytime I pick it up. It is so stupid that it actually hurts my brain to read it and I told a girl on the tram who was reading it to "throw it out the window! It'll be the best thing you ever did!"
The idea behind this book is that it's a "no nonsense, tough-love guide for savvy girls who want to stop eating crap and start looking fabulous" and it's written by two former Ford Models. Oh yes... I'm sure the two incredibly beautiful and concerningly skinny bitches on the back know all about being overweight and having crap skin and having a love/ hate relationship with sugar like I do. Errrgh.. Makes me seven kinds of mad really. I know how hard it is to lose weight. I have the pictures to prove it and these girls are making it sound like a click of the fingers to change your attitude about food and exercise and SHAZAM! you can be a skinny bitchin' ex ford model alien looking creature.
This is my favourite:
"Don't smoke. Don't even try some pathetic excuses such as , "but if I quit smoking, I'll gain weight." No one wants to hear it. Cigarettes are for losers. They are so totally 1989 and uncool. Smokings out. Give it up."
Oh yes... because it's so simple to give up smoking you vacuous bitches. Just like that. You say it and it's done. Excuse me while I rip my own head off and ram thirty cigarettes into the gaping hole and light them all at once.
It's kind of what your book makes me want to do. more to come as I can stomach it.
cmx
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
alice and the gentle gardener
I had an appointment with my lovely Surgeon a couple of weeks ago... He has been my surgeon and to a certain point, my friend for the best part of a decade. When at 16, everyone around me assumed that I had an eating disorder (that had somehow managed to cause my morbid obesity- go figure.) or a psychological issue with food he believed what I was saying and made it his mission to find out why my body was failing me.
I see him once a year if I’m well and we catch up over a pot of tea. He is almost manic in the way he jumps from topic to topic, but there is something incredibly serene about him. He laughs a lot, he asks a lot of questions, and pats my mother gently on the hand. He dresses like a gardener, which I find incredibly appropriate given I consider him the caretaker of my insides. He removes the cobwebs and vines that grow inside of me. He repairs or removes the plants that aren’t doing so well and sews me up again. He gives me and my garden a chance to grow.
This year I went in with the big questions. Two big questions and the response I got to both has been lingering about half a pace behind me ever since. The first answer was “Yes. You will need more surgery, and probably more after that- you may end up with a feeding tube later in life. Your fear is not an unreasonable one but we will do our best.” The second was “No, I don’t think it would be in your best interest to have children. You could but I would not advise it. Your body simply can’t handle the pressure of pregnancy. Your digestive system is not strong enough. Your scar is too restrictive.“
I wasn’t planning on having children in the next five years. Absolutely not. But when my biological clock started to tick and I started to ache for the pitter patter of tiny feet I wanted to know I had the option. And it seems that I don’t. As much as he tends to my garden- its beds are to remain infertile. There is a sadness to this I am yet to be able to describe fully. It’s small and heavy and sits to the left of my chest. I’m still processing the news and adjusting accordingly. When I told my grandfather the news through tears and tea his sensible and old school response was “well, maybe next time he is in there he could rip all those parts out too- you know, save you the worry.” It’s certainly an option I’m not prepared to entertain but I can see his point.
It’s a strange new world I’m living in at the moment. I feel a bit like Alice in wonderland because of the enormous amount of change that has occurred in my life over the last month or so... not just this news. I don’t know if I will ever process the fact that I cannot have children fully but I’m surprising myself everyday with my strength and adaptability. It feels like every time I get my footing something else happens that causes me to crouch to the ground for a moment- but I get back up and keep chasing the white rabbit through the garden.
I see him once a year if I’m well and we catch up over a pot of tea. He is almost manic in the way he jumps from topic to topic, but there is something incredibly serene about him. He laughs a lot, he asks a lot of questions, and pats my mother gently on the hand. He dresses like a gardener, which I find incredibly appropriate given I consider him the caretaker of my insides. He removes the cobwebs and vines that grow inside of me. He repairs or removes the plants that aren’t doing so well and sews me up again. He gives me and my garden a chance to grow.
This year I went in with the big questions. Two big questions and the response I got to both has been lingering about half a pace behind me ever since. The first answer was “Yes. You will need more surgery, and probably more after that- you may end up with a feeding tube later in life. Your fear is not an unreasonable one but we will do our best.” The second was “No, I don’t think it would be in your best interest to have children. You could but I would not advise it. Your body simply can’t handle the pressure of pregnancy. Your digestive system is not strong enough. Your scar is too restrictive.“
I wasn’t planning on having children in the next five years. Absolutely not. But when my biological clock started to tick and I started to ache for the pitter patter of tiny feet I wanted to know I had the option. And it seems that I don’t. As much as he tends to my garden- its beds are to remain infertile. There is a sadness to this I am yet to be able to describe fully. It’s small and heavy and sits to the left of my chest. I’m still processing the news and adjusting accordingly. When I told my grandfather the news through tears and tea his sensible and old school response was “well, maybe next time he is in there he could rip all those parts out too- you know, save you the worry.” It’s certainly an option I’m not prepared to entertain but I can see his point.
It’s a strange new world I’m living in at the moment. I feel a bit like Alice in wonderland because of the enormous amount of change that has occurred in my life over the last month or so... not just this news. I don’t know if I will ever process the fact that I cannot have children fully but I’m surprising myself everyday with my strength and adaptability. It feels like every time I get my footing something else happens that causes me to crouch to the ground for a moment- but I get back up and keep chasing the white rabbit through the garden.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
damn you. you're right.
argh. someone found me out.
As described below.
You have a heart of gold. Gold, though, has a high melting point. It takes a lot of heat to soften your emotional stance. Your purity and consistency is sometimes mistaken for indifference.
i couldn't have said it better myself.
cmx
As described below.
You have a heart of gold. Gold, though, has a high melting point. It takes a lot of heat to soften your emotional stance. Your purity and consistency is sometimes mistaken for indifference.
i couldn't have said it better myself.
cmx
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
to PDA or not to PDA...
I’m on Doctor’s orders not to ride my bike for a bit until things get better. I’m sneaking it across the park and up to peacal’s but I know (and the doctor knows) I’m not well enough to battle it to work. The humiliation of walking my bike up a hill I know I can manage when I am well is a bit much for me, and so would be the heaving and vomiting and fainting in public business. I don’t know how long it will take until I am better but until I get the all clear, it’s the tram for me. And oh, how I hate the tram.
The tram is awful. It’s 20 minutes of hell being hit in the side of the head with a bag whilst stuck underneath a business man’s arm with some creepy man smiling and making eye contact with me. And, lucky me, I get to pay for the privilege. People smell, do strange things, are rude and often a little too affectionate with their loved one – which was the case this morning.
I was stuck between an overly affectionate couple and an angry IT guy who was quite obviously unhappy with life. This couple were in that “bubble of love and happiness” which means that you only have eyes, ears and spatial awareness for your beloved. As most of you know, up until very recently I was in one of those bubbles known as a relationship so this was a bit of a sore point for me at seven thirty this morning. I will however point out in my defence that I have never been a big fan of the public display of affection unless I am a) drunk or b) on the dancefloor.
I (only just) tolerated the happy couple. I gritted my teeth, I rolled my eyes and tried to busy myself with my book. Angry IT guy was not as tolerable this morning. He confronted the love birds loudly by saying “Hey! You know what? It’s seven thirty in the morning and we are all stuck on a packed tram. How about showing us all a little respect and keeping your tongues in your respective mouths? Public transport is hard enough without your public displays of affection!” He then pointed to me and said “This poor girl looks like she is about to vomit! Give us all a break.”
Love birds were far too shocked to retaliate, and quite obviously felt uncomfortable with declaring their adoration for each other for the rest of their trip. I, could do very little to prevent myself from showing my very own PDA for angry IT guy.
cmx
The tram is awful. It’s 20 minutes of hell being hit in the side of the head with a bag whilst stuck underneath a business man’s arm with some creepy man smiling and making eye contact with me. And, lucky me, I get to pay for the privilege. People smell, do strange things, are rude and often a little too affectionate with their loved one – which was the case this morning.
I was stuck between an overly affectionate couple and an angry IT guy who was quite obviously unhappy with life. This couple were in that “bubble of love and happiness” which means that you only have eyes, ears and spatial awareness for your beloved. As most of you know, up until very recently I was in one of those bubbles known as a relationship so this was a bit of a sore point for me at seven thirty this morning. I will however point out in my defence that I have never been a big fan of the public display of affection unless I am a) drunk or b) on the dancefloor.
I (only just) tolerated the happy couple. I gritted my teeth, I rolled my eyes and tried to busy myself with my book. Angry IT guy was not as tolerable this morning. He confronted the love birds loudly by saying “Hey! You know what? It’s seven thirty in the morning and we are all stuck on a packed tram. How about showing us all a little respect and keeping your tongues in your respective mouths? Public transport is hard enough without your public displays of affection!” He then pointed to me and said “This poor girl looks like she is about to vomit! Give us all a break.”
Love birds were far too shocked to retaliate, and quite obviously felt uncomfortable with declaring their adoration for each other for the rest of their trip. I, could do very little to prevent myself from showing my very own PDA for angry IT guy.
cmx
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