Pre-Post Note:
I know I said I'd continue with the bagged cat, and I will on my next planned blogging day (Friday). Right now I'm just going to share something sort of extra. Thus the non-planned blogging day.
On to the post:
I have my first follower! This is seriously something special to me because I'm not sharing this blog with anyone I actually know. So... how would anyone find me? I've wondered... and wondered if I was chatting at the air, as it were. I haven't heard from anyone. So, I figured it was highly likely. I decided that it didn't matter one bit, though, because writing here has been helping ME so much... even though it's been way more infrequent than I planned (especially in the beginning).
So, I've mentioned her a couple times. I don't even remember how I came across her blog. But I did. And I love it! I'm pretty sure I shared a link to it before because I loved it so much. And she's got the Amazon store I was hoping anyone who reads here would jump over to use when purchasing from Amazon. She found me as a result of my link to her blog. And do we're becoming friends! Email/internet friends, but still friends. Based on what she shares and how she writes on her blog, we could be twins! Maybe you'd disagree, but I think she is amazing. I love that her family picture is not up-to-date... makes her real and that much more likeable and similar to me! :)
My first follower, as mentioned at the very beginning, is my twin! We are not literally twins, of course, because we DO have 2 totally different parents. If it were even remotely possible, I would think we were literally identical twins seperated at birth. But both of our Moms did the whole natural labor thing - so they were both very aware of how many babies did and did not come out of their whoo-haas. So, I'm left to believe that it's just kizmet. We both think we were best friends in heaven before we were born.
We're twins right down to the way we look. Tori (my twin... and she did give me permission to talk about her!) has said she's sure I'm prettier, but since I can see HER picture and she has no idea what I look like, I say with absolute authority that we could be twins. We think alike, too. Definitely more like twins seperated at birth than those raised together! ^_^
We are both "into" and knowledgeable about Conspiracy Theories. I odn't know which of us suggested it first, but it is possible that we are clones! I'm totally joking, of course. But it is fun and funny to talk about it.
Obviously I like Tori. If I didn't, dislike would certainly spring from some form of self-loathing because we are so much alike!
I told her I wanted to share about her blog, and she gave me permission. I did let her know that I really don't know how many people actually read my blog. I know how to look at STATS and all, but that doesn't tell me who actually READS what I have to say. I mean, I don't have loads of pictures or anything. And the likelihood of anyone reading all I write... well, a Monster Girl can hope loads of people want to and do... but any of kind of girl, even of the monster type must also remain aware of reality, too! She wasn't sure if she would share my blog because she was worried that others might think it's her own - since she's going through a really difficult time currently. I totally feel for her because our stories are so VERY similar. *sigh* Just another example of how the one who seeks to detroy souls is aiming at the family... and perhaps most often the heart of men via their carnal desires. grrrr...
If you want to know what I look like, notice her family portrait. That's darn near exactly what I look like. We seriously could be twins!
Showing posts with label happiness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label happiness. Show all posts
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
The Man... My Man... Beauty Man
Pre-Post Note:
I'm getting better... And today is a Monday, too! :)
So, I was thinking about what I'd like to know next if I was you. Maybe we're totally different, which is completely possible and even likely, in which case this post may be TOTALLY un-interesting to you. But if I were reading along here instead of writing, I'd want to know more about the guy I have been and will be talking about.
My husband. You already know we met online. It's been a few years now. Long enough for us to have four children, the youngest of whom is right around a year old.
He's a few years younger than me, but had done more in his life when we met than I could imagine. I figured that made up for the few years difference. Maybe. Maybe not.
He has light brown hair, green eyes, which are actually green and not hazel. He weighs around 150 pounds, stands just under 6 feet tall and IS as thin as that sounds. Once, he started to take on some weight. The main way I could tell is that his belly button became slightly more than just a depression in his belly region. There was actually a dip and enough of a depression to catch a good bunch of lint each day. Ha! The only time I can ever remember seeing the deepest part of my belly button is during the last month of pregnancy... and not even every one of those! HA!
My husband is handsome... really, actually... he is a beautiful man. This is where the name I use, Beauty Man, instead of his real one, comes from. He has a James Dean-ish* look. His nose (and I never really noticed noses, except for my own, before I met him) is perfectly straight, smooth, slightly slender, but not too narrow and makes me think of a "Roman Nose," though I've never been completely sure what THAT looks like! My husband had a nice "V" shaped bod when we met. Not now. Not that I'm bothered, really. Heck, I was a size 9 when we met and more like a 24now. Seriously. But he DID look GOOD with those well developed lats and pecs! :) He still looks good... but you know what I mean, right?
One thing I noticed and loved from REALLY early on is his crinkley-eyes. He was 20 when we met (turned 21 before we met in person). But even so, he had a whole bunch of crinkles right at the temples when he'd smile. I've always thought those smile-eye wrinkles were among his most beautiful physical features.
He's got skinny legs.
He's hairy, but not sweater-hairy. At least, not yet. ;) It seems, since we've met, the hair is multiplying and spreading at an exponentially increasing rate. He hasn't lost any off his head, so it's not migrating, but he has more now in the funny shaped patch above his butt, on the top of his upper arms, in and on his ears, and on hisshoulders than he ever did when we first met. Funny how that heppens, huh?
He's very strong. He doesn't look like he could lift as much as he can. He was still able to pick me up when I was 200 pounds. I won't let him try anymore. I bet he could, but I'm afraid it would hurt him.
He smokes. He is not a member of my church. He and I don't have many (if any) of the same interests or hobbies. I know many of our temporal goals aline, but I don't think our Spiritual goals mesh... if he has any of those at all.
He is a Chef. He was in the Navy when we met, got out and went to Culinary School. Now he's a Chef. He hates it. He hates the industry and the caliber of people he is most often in contact with as a result of his employ. He works way too many house for a little salary. Salary. It's rough. Thankfully he IS employed and THANKFULLY, he keeps doing it. He is, after-all, the primary breadwinner in this family! I hope one day, that the things I can do from home will supply all our needs and he'll be able to work 'cause he wants to, or go back to school, or work the businesses I'm trying to grow. A girl; even a Monster Girl, can dream, can't she?! :)
*James Dean Pictures that look like Beauty Man to me
Yes, Beauty Man does wear glasses, though his look a bit different than those in the picture. And, as I mentioned, he does smoke. :-p Beauty Man is aptly named, don't you think so?
I'm getting better... And today is a Monday, too! :)
So, I was thinking about what I'd like to know next if I was you. Maybe we're totally different, which is completely possible and even likely, in which case this post may be TOTALLY un-interesting to you. But if I were reading along here instead of writing, I'd want to know more about the guy I have been and will be talking about.
My husband. You already know we met online. It's been a few years now. Long enough for us to have four children, the youngest of whom is right around a year old.
He's a few years younger than me, but had done more in his life when we met than I could imagine. I figured that made up for the few years difference. Maybe. Maybe not.
He has light brown hair, green eyes, which are actually green and not hazel. He weighs around 150 pounds, stands just under 6 feet tall and IS as thin as that sounds. Once, he started to take on some weight. The main way I could tell is that his belly button became slightly more than just a depression in his belly region. There was actually a dip and enough of a depression to catch a good bunch of lint each day. Ha! The only time I can ever remember seeing the deepest part of my belly button is during the last month of pregnancy... and not even every one of those! HA!
My husband is handsome... really, actually... he is a beautiful man. This is where the name I use, Beauty Man, instead of his real one, comes from. He has a James Dean-ish* look. His nose (and I never really noticed noses, except for my own, before I met him) is perfectly straight, smooth, slightly slender, but not too narrow and makes me think of a "Roman Nose," though I've never been completely sure what THAT looks like! My husband had a nice "V" shaped bod when we met. Not now. Not that I'm bothered, really. Heck, I was a size 9 when we met and more like a 24now. Seriously. But he DID look GOOD with those well developed lats and pecs! :) He still looks good... but you know what I mean, right?
One thing I noticed and loved from REALLY early on is his crinkley-eyes. He was 20 when we met (turned 21 before we met in person). But even so, he had a whole bunch of crinkles right at the temples when he'd smile. I've always thought those smile-eye wrinkles were among his most beautiful physical features.
He's got skinny legs.
He's hairy, but not sweater-hairy. At least, not yet. ;) It seems, since we've met, the hair is multiplying and spreading at an exponentially increasing rate. He hasn't lost any off his head, so it's not migrating, but he has more now in the funny shaped patch above his butt, on the top of his upper arms, in and on his ears, and on hisshoulders than he ever did when we first met. Funny how that heppens, huh?
He's very strong. He doesn't look like he could lift as much as he can. He was still able to pick me up when I was 200 pounds. I won't let him try anymore. I bet he could, but I'm afraid it would hurt him.
He smokes. He is not a member of my church. He and I don't have many (if any) of the same interests or hobbies. I know many of our temporal goals aline, but I don't think our Spiritual goals mesh... if he has any of those at all.
He is a Chef. He was in the Navy when we met, got out and went to Culinary School. Now he's a Chef. He hates it. He hates the industry and the caliber of people he is most often in contact with as a result of his employ. He works way too many house for a little salary. Salary. It's rough. Thankfully he IS employed and THANKFULLY, he keeps doing it. He is, after-all, the primary breadwinner in this family! I hope one day, that the things I can do from home will supply all our needs and he'll be able to work 'cause he wants to, or go back to school, or work the businesses I'm trying to grow. A girl; even a Monster Girl, can dream, can't she?! :)
*James Dean Pictures that look like Beauty Man to me
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
The Parable of the Window
Pre-Post Note:
YEAY! I'm posting a week later than my last one! YEAY for some all vitories. Okay, so it's not on the day I'm trying to do it regularly, but still. Baby steps ARE steps! :)
Last time I mentioned sharing with you a Parable I've written. I call it: The Parable of the Window, which you can see is the title. Obviously. :) Now, this Parable has to do with my Love Languages, my man, and how he does or does not speak my Love Languages. If you don't know anything about Love Languages. I encourage you to read the book entitled: The Five Love Languages. I've been reading a blogger I really like, so the link for that book will take you to her Amazon store. Every little bit help! I hope, if you're interested in that (or any book), you'll search for what you want through her store, which you can find by the links I've included and also on her BLOG. It is a really great blog! Of course, I may like it so much because she writes (and maybe thinks?) similarly to me. At least, that's how it seems by what she writes and how she expresses herself and the way she names things. I just think it's always fun to read from others who seem to be kindred spirits!
On to the Parable:
I am in an air-tight room. There is no ventilation ducting to this room. The door is sealed tight. There is one single window in this room. The seal around it, too, is airtight. Only one person has the ability to open the window. My Beauty Man, my husband.
When he opens the window, he allows fresh air to flood the room (my heart and life). He opens it by touching me lovingly, speaking to me kindly and encouragingly. He can open it by calling to say hi and tell me he was thinking about me while he's at work. He opens it when he rubs my feet or shoulders - especially when he does so without being asked. He opens that window when he gives me specific compliments about the things I'm trying to do, my appearance, something that he loves about a food item I've prepared. There are myriad ways he opens the window. But it is not held open permanently. Opening it requires effort on his part. When he stops making the effort to hold the window open, it falls closed and seals air-tight-shut again. Oftentimes, my man not only stops holding the window open, but also leaves the room entirely... shutting the door firmly on his departure.
Leaving the room is figurative because my husband hasn't physically left me in any permanent way. But every time we have a disagreement, he usually stomps off in a huff. This is one form "leaving the room" takes in our marriage. He also leaves the room when he refuses to have a conversation. Or when he refuses to answer a question and says, instead, "I don't know," or, "I don't remember." Clearly these are unacceptable answers.
And I am left alone. Initially, I often don't realize he's actually departed.... he sneaks out as often as he stomps out. I'm just so relieved to breath again... and he takes my state of distraction as his cover for walking away. When I realize he's gone, I usually (especially in the beginning), would just think something like, "Oh, he'll be back soon! He won't stay away long!"
But then he does. And I start to really miss the fresh air... I miss his presence and his effort. So, I start to knock on the door. I almost always start with soft knocks... trying to get his attention. Eventually it moves to louder and louder knocking and on to pounding on the door... just hoping to get my man's attention in hopes that he'll come visit my room and open the window.
The room IS air-tight, please remember, so eventually I start to feel difficulty breathing. My breath comes with greater and greater difficulty. I stop pounding on the door. Actually, I stop trying at all. It is at this point, at some stage of me sitting in a corner of my room (or lying in foetal position about to die of asphixiation) that my man comes in the room and opens the window. Almost every single time... I'm about to die in our marriage before he does anything about it. :(
You may wonder why I don't open the door myself. You might ask, "Does the door NOT have a knob on it?" Those are appropriate questions, I suppose. I hope, though, that you are not married if you ask them. If you are, perhaps you simply have a different idea of marriage than me. That is, of course, totally possible. For me, though... if I open that door, that means I'm looking for some outside source to affirm me in ways that ONLY my husband should be doing. And, honestly, I would rather die in my marriage than break my covenants, which I have made to my God and husband. So, I don't touch the knob, though there certainly IS one.
There have been lots of times when I've been sitting in the corner... at some stage of dying or about to die-ness that I look at the knob a lot and wonder what it would be like to turn it and go outside my little room. I know this is dangerous territory. I am working on NOT looking at or contemplating that knob when things are at their worst. Every once in a while, though, it has been kinda good that I looked... cause things actually do NOT look greener on the other side when I have. Not overall... there might be patches of greener... but not the whole lawn... at least... when I've tried to see without seeing. And since that's the closest I'm gunna go to checkin out that grass... well, I think THAT sort of knob-lookin' has done me good.
So, that's my Parable. Definitely NOT amazing and minimally put as The Master parable-teller's. But it's mine. :) Monster Girls can be pleased with their silly efforts, too... can't I?
YEAY! I'm posting a week later than my last one! YEAY for some all vitories. Okay, so it's not on the day I'm trying to do it regularly, but still. Baby steps ARE steps! :)
Last time I mentioned sharing with you a Parable I've written. I call it: The Parable of the Window, which you can see is the title. Obviously. :) Now, this Parable has to do with my Love Languages, my man, and how he does or does not speak my Love Languages. If you don't know anything about Love Languages. I encourage you to read the book entitled: The Five Love Languages. I've been reading a blogger I really like, so the link for that book will take you to her Amazon store. Every little bit help! I hope, if you're interested in that (or any book), you'll search for what you want through her store, which you can find by the links I've included and also on her BLOG. It is a really great blog! Of course, I may like it so much because she writes (and maybe thinks?) similarly to me. At least, that's how it seems by what she writes and how she expresses herself and the way she names things. I just think it's always fun to read from others who seem to be kindred spirits!
On to the Parable:
I am in an air-tight room. There is no ventilation ducting to this room. The door is sealed tight. There is one single window in this room. The seal around it, too, is airtight. Only one person has the ability to open the window. My Beauty Man, my husband.
When he opens the window, he allows fresh air to flood the room (my heart and life). He opens it by touching me lovingly, speaking to me kindly and encouragingly. He can open it by calling to say hi and tell me he was thinking about me while he's at work. He opens it when he rubs my feet or shoulders - especially when he does so without being asked. He opens that window when he gives me specific compliments about the things I'm trying to do, my appearance, something that he loves about a food item I've prepared. There are myriad ways he opens the window. But it is not held open permanently. Opening it requires effort on his part. When he stops making the effort to hold the window open, it falls closed and seals air-tight-shut again. Oftentimes, my man not only stops holding the window open, but also leaves the room entirely... shutting the door firmly on his departure.
Leaving the room is figurative because my husband hasn't physically left me in any permanent way. But every time we have a disagreement, he usually stomps off in a huff. This is one form "leaving the room" takes in our marriage. He also leaves the room when he refuses to have a conversation. Or when he refuses to answer a question and says, instead, "I don't know," or, "I don't remember." Clearly these are unacceptable answers.
And I am left alone. Initially, I often don't realize he's actually departed.... he sneaks out as often as he stomps out. I'm just so relieved to breath again... and he takes my state of distraction as his cover for walking away. When I realize he's gone, I usually (especially in the beginning), would just think something like, "Oh, he'll be back soon! He won't stay away long!"
But then he does. And I start to really miss the fresh air... I miss his presence and his effort. So, I start to knock on the door. I almost always start with soft knocks... trying to get his attention. Eventually it moves to louder and louder knocking and on to pounding on the door... just hoping to get my man's attention in hopes that he'll come visit my room and open the window.
The room IS air-tight, please remember, so eventually I start to feel difficulty breathing. My breath comes with greater and greater difficulty. I stop pounding on the door. Actually, I stop trying at all. It is at this point, at some stage of me sitting in a corner of my room (or lying in foetal position about to die of asphixiation) that my man comes in the room and opens the window. Almost every single time... I'm about to die in our marriage before he does anything about it. :(
You may wonder why I don't open the door myself. You might ask, "Does the door NOT have a knob on it?" Those are appropriate questions, I suppose. I hope, though, that you are not married if you ask them. If you are, perhaps you simply have a different idea of marriage than me. That is, of course, totally possible. For me, though... if I open that door, that means I'm looking for some outside source to affirm me in ways that ONLY my husband should be doing. And, honestly, I would rather die in my marriage than break my covenants, which I have made to my God and husband. So, I don't touch the knob, though there certainly IS one.
There have been lots of times when I've been sitting in the corner... at some stage of dying or about to die-ness that I look at the knob a lot and wonder what it would be like to turn it and go outside my little room. I know this is dangerous territory. I am working on NOT looking at or contemplating that knob when things are at their worst. Every once in a while, though, it has been kinda good that I looked... cause things actually do NOT look greener on the other side when I have. Not overall... there might be patches of greener... but not the whole lawn... at least... when I've tried to see without seeing. And since that's the closest I'm gunna go to checkin out that grass... well, I think THAT sort of knob-lookin' has done me good.
So, that's my Parable. Definitely NOT amazing and minimally put as The Master parable-teller's. But it's mine. :) Monster Girls can be pleased with their silly efforts, too... can't I?
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
The Next Question
I'm sure it has everything to do with the way I think and process my world, but if I was a reader of a blog like this and read the last post, I'd want to know what the author of it DOES look like. So, I imagine a question a little something like, "You're not a hot Mama, so what DO you look like? Tell me something about who you ARE, not just who you are NOT."
I'm nobody special. You know the girl. I could be the one everyone knows, but nobody REALLY knows. I may be the girl on the back row in Relief Society or Sunday School, quiet, looking slightly (or a lot) scared... who nobody knows. Either way, I bet you can guess: I feel like nobody really knows me. Mayeb everybody feels this way! I only know how I feel and I definitely feel like nobody REALLY knows me... or cares to try to REALLY get to know me.
Yes, I do realize that this is partially my fault. Truly I do. But when you realize you cannot trust your husband... because he lies to your face... or yells accusations at you about the kind of person he perceives you to be after all the years of your marriage... and you've known him (and thought he knew you) longer than anybody - except your Mom (and maybe Dad and/or siblings)... Well, probably YOU are a better and stronger person than ME. But as for me... well, I stopped being able to freely trust others when I found out my husband had lied bald-faced lies to my face regularly... and for multiple years (when I first found out, the lies had been fed me for at least 3 years!).
Lies are a really big deal to me. I consider myself both a truth seeker AND a truth speaker. A bit like Nephi (the first one). In case you've never read the Book of Mormon, I recommend reading through the first two books, at least, to understand what I'm talking about. This is a character trait I've liked about myself. So... it's been difficult to feel mistrustful of others and not be as bold or FULLY honest as I used to be. I don't lie striaght out lies. But I have begun to leave things out. Lies of omission are still lies, my friend. So, I'm becomming a lying sinner. :( I know I was always a sinner... but lies!?? grrrr...
Back to the question... more directly: I'm 5'2" tall. I'm right around 250 pounds fluffy. I haven't stepped on the scale recently, though... I'm afraid to see what the actual reading is! I have long brown hair shot through with increasingly thick streaks of gray. Someone recently-ish told me that they thought it was blonde (the streaks). I'm not sure they were being truthful because I could perceive that they WERE trying to be kind. Too bad the two don't usually walk hand in hand!
My eyes are blue. Although I'm sure it's a pretty blue, it's not a remarkable blue. Most people don't realize I have blue eyesuntil they look upon my children and wonderf where their strikingly beautiful eyes come from. Well, since Beauty Man's eyes are green... blue wins out most (if not all) of the time. So far, blue has won out every time in our progeny. :)
Thankfully, though I am a chubbly monster girl, I'm fluffy in a relatively well-proportioned way. Thank God for small mercies, right!? The fatness on me is not the sort of firm kind some chubby girls have. It's jello-ey like gross-ness. I told you I was monsterous by "American Beauty" standards. My husband is about 100 pounds lighter than e... but way heavier in sins of omission AND comission than me. I think I try to eat his hiding... anyway... back to me and how I look.
I have oversized hands and feet. My hands are actually the same size as my husband's; only fatter. Additionally, my chubby, oversized mannish-hands just don't move as gracefully or beautifully as my Beauty Man's. My feet are a size 10 wide (women's, thankfully). Oh... and I have high arches! Talk about di-i-fficult to find comfy shoes!! It's far more fitting as Monster Girl to wear comfortable shoes. I do wear flip-flops as much as possible. No worries about stuffing fluffy feet into too tight shoes if the shoes are flip-flops! :) Yes, I do wear them in the winter - mostly. Every once in a while it does get too cold and I wear my other pair of shoes. I prefer, though, bare feet most of all! ^_^
I also prefer comfy clothes. Modest, too. I feel SUPER strange if someone compliments my attire. I'd rather hide by my clothes and stick out by my pleasant countenance and kindnesses. But that's just me.
I don't do my nails. In fact, I keep them short enough that I've been mistaken for a pianist, guitarist, and/or artist. Oh... I wish on that last one... the first, too, really... but the last most of all!
I don't wear make-up. I don't wear jewelry. I'll tell you about my jewels later. :) I wear skirts and blouses. I would wear dresses if I wasn't nursing, but I hope to be nursing for some time yet - whether my current baby or the next. At least, I hope there will be a next! Oh, how I hope! I feel like I know them... the babies "missing" as yet. Oh, how I hope for them... but that, too, is a story for another time. :)
Given this self-description, you might think that I don't like me. Before the most recent horrible "earthquake" in my marriage, I was atually quite happy with me. Mostly. I mean, I was still working out some of the pain left over from the shock of the negative confrontation that was biggest prior to the most recent one... but I had definitely reached a place of acceptance and even quite a lot of peace and even some happiness in and with myself. You might also suggest that my self-image is a result of the depression I'm working to come out of right now. You may be on to something in that. It sure is amazing what catastrophic damage I've allowed the tumult in my marriage to cause in my heart! :(
As ever... if you know who I am... shhhh... I'd like my identity to stay between you and me!
I'm nobody special. You know the girl. I could be the one everyone knows, but nobody REALLY knows. I may be the girl on the back row in Relief Society or Sunday School, quiet, looking slightly (or a lot) scared... who nobody knows. Either way, I bet you can guess: I feel like nobody really knows me. Mayeb everybody feels this way! I only know how I feel and I definitely feel like nobody REALLY knows me... or cares to try to REALLY get to know me.
Yes, I do realize that this is partially my fault. Truly I do. But when you realize you cannot trust your husband... because he lies to your face... or yells accusations at you about the kind of person he perceives you to be after all the years of your marriage... and you've known him (and thought he knew you) longer than anybody - except your Mom (and maybe Dad and/or siblings)... Well, probably YOU are a better and stronger person than ME. But as for me... well, I stopped being able to freely trust others when I found out my husband had lied bald-faced lies to my face regularly... and for multiple years (when I first found out, the lies had been fed me for at least 3 years!).
Lies are a really big deal to me. I consider myself both a truth seeker AND a truth speaker. A bit like Nephi (the first one). In case you've never read the Book of Mormon, I recommend reading through the first two books, at least, to understand what I'm talking about. This is a character trait I've liked about myself. So... it's been difficult to feel mistrustful of others and not be as bold or FULLY honest as I used to be. I don't lie striaght out lies. But I have begun to leave things out. Lies of omission are still lies, my friend. So, I'm becomming a lying sinner. :( I know I was always a sinner... but lies!?? grrrr...
Back to the question... more directly: I'm 5'2" tall. I'm right around 250 pounds fluffy. I haven't stepped on the scale recently, though... I'm afraid to see what the actual reading is! I have long brown hair shot through with increasingly thick streaks of gray. Someone recently-ish told me that they thought it was blonde (the streaks). I'm not sure they were being truthful because I could perceive that they WERE trying to be kind. Too bad the two don't usually walk hand in hand!
My eyes are blue. Although I'm sure it's a pretty blue, it's not a remarkable blue. Most people don't realize I have blue eyesuntil they look upon my children and wonderf where their strikingly beautiful eyes come from. Well, since Beauty Man's eyes are green... blue wins out most (if not all) of the time. So far, blue has won out every time in our progeny. :)
Thankfully, though I am a chubbly monster girl, I'm fluffy in a relatively well-proportioned way. Thank God for small mercies, right!? The fatness on me is not the sort of firm kind some chubby girls have. It's jello-ey like gross-ness. I told you I was monsterous by "American Beauty" standards. My husband is about 100 pounds lighter than e... but way heavier in sins of omission AND comission than me. I think I try to eat his hiding... anyway... back to me and how I look.
I have oversized hands and feet. My hands are actually the same size as my husband's; only fatter. Additionally, my chubby, oversized mannish-hands just don't move as gracefully or beautifully as my Beauty Man's. My feet are a size 10 wide (women's, thankfully). Oh... and I have high arches! Talk about di-i-fficult to find comfy shoes!! It's far more fitting as Monster Girl to wear comfortable shoes. I do wear flip-flops as much as possible. No worries about stuffing fluffy feet into too tight shoes if the shoes are flip-flops! :) Yes, I do wear them in the winter - mostly. Every once in a while it does get too cold and I wear my other pair of shoes. I prefer, though, bare feet most of all! ^_^
I also prefer comfy clothes. Modest, too. I feel SUPER strange if someone compliments my attire. I'd rather hide by my clothes and stick out by my pleasant countenance and kindnesses. But that's just me.
I don't do my nails. In fact, I keep them short enough that I've been mistaken for a pianist, guitarist, and/or artist. Oh... I wish on that last one... the first, too, really... but the last most of all!
I don't wear make-up. I don't wear jewelry. I'll tell you about my jewels later. :) I wear skirts and blouses. I would wear dresses if I wasn't nursing, but I hope to be nursing for some time yet - whether my current baby or the next. At least, I hope there will be a next! Oh, how I hope! I feel like I know them... the babies "missing" as yet. Oh, how I hope for them... but that, too, is a story for another time. :)
Given this self-description, you might think that I don't like me. Before the most recent horrible "earthquake" in my marriage, I was atually quite happy with me. Mostly. I mean, I was still working out some of the pain left over from the shock of the negative confrontation that was biggest prior to the most recent one... but I had definitely reached a place of acceptance and even quite a lot of peace and even some happiness in and with myself. You might also suggest that my self-image is a result of the depression I'm working to come out of right now. You may be on to something in that. It sure is amazing what catastrophic damage I've allowed the tumult in my marriage to cause in my heart! :(
As ever... if you know who I am... shhhh... I'd like my identity to stay between you and me!
Thursday, December 15, 2011
The Choice (poem)
I'm gunna be
in a wrecked marriage.
So the question is:
will I be miserable in
this wrecked marriage?
OR
will I be happy in
this wrecked marriage?
The choice is mine alone.
The marriage will be
wrecked
so long as Beauty Man
refuses
to make the necessary
repairs.
No matter how often
i try
to get him to look under
the hood,
none of it matters if he
refuses
to see what is there
when he looks.
So, I need not be miserable
THOUGH
that is definitely the easier emotion to
feel;
given the circumstance.
So, I must choose happiness
each moment.
in a wrecked marriage.
So the question is:
will I be miserable in
this wrecked marriage?
OR
will I be happy in
this wrecked marriage?
The choice is mine alone.
The marriage will be
wrecked
so long as Beauty Man
refuses
to make the necessary
repairs.
No matter how often
i try
to get him to look under
the hood,
none of it matters if he
refuses
to see what is there
when he looks.
So, I need not be miserable
THOUGH
that is definitely the easier emotion to
feel;
given the circumstance.
So, I must choose happiness
each moment.
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