Look at that butt!

Sexy - The Sneaky Mister

2012-01-23T12:56:00.000-08:00

Thanks to a friend of mine (ERIC www.theparfaitreport.com), I have fallen in love with this talented artist. Her music is simple, tasteful, fun, insightful, heartwarming, and inspiring. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Here is her blog:
http://thesneakymister.blogspot.com/

Enjoy the sounds.....Let them fill you up. :-D

Joyce by The Sneaky Mister

1950's to 1960's Vintage Items for sale!

2012-01-23T12:38:00.000-08:00

1960's Cocktail Dress

Minor safety-pin rust stains at the bottom.
Size 12/14

FRONT

BACK

1960's Satin Dinner Dress and Coat

Fallen seam at the bottom, as well as minor safety-pin rust stains.
Size 12/14

Without Coat

With Coat

Champagne Satin Ballroom Slippers

Size 8, narrow toe

1950's 100% Wool Children's Christmas Sweater

Minor moth holes, minor stiffness from lack of wear

Child's Size

Snow is White for a Reason (No, I'm not being racist)

2012-01-21T02:38:00.000-08:00

The color, white symbolizes Purity, Cleanliness, Truth, Innocence, Light (like you needed me to explain this to you (-: ).

This early, early morning, I experienced a real live snowfall for the first time in my life. It was magical-just as, if not more wonderful than the movies. I can't explain the exhilaration and joy I felt when the icy feathers of snow fluttered across my face. My smile spread from ear to ear when I heard my combat boots crunch into the snow. I felt as young as my puppy when she jumped and slid and licked up the snow all around her. I am still smiling as I type simply reminiscing the bliss I savored 20 minutes ago. While I strolled the winter wonderland that is my neighborhood, a thought occurred to me: This is my rebirth, the cleansing that I need from all of the bullshit I've been through. I know that what I have gone through may not have been a drowning cruise-ship (too soon?) or any sort of natural disaster; it wasn't even a true 'loss' by its literal meaning, but it has been an emotional "earthquake" of heartache and a whole mine field of explosive disappointments and let-downs. Yes, I miss home, my family and all of my friends, and yes, it has been so hard trying to find decent employment, and YES, it's been excruciating trying to find meaning and direction in my meager, simple, little life, but the snow...the snow makes all of that seem blanketed, just as snow creates a blanket of white, somewhat purifying all that it touches (before it's spoiled by footprints and tire tracks, of course). Much like life, we all have our moments of truth and innocence before we are covered in footprints, divots, bulldozer marks and everything else that leaves a mess behind, but we are fortunate that once it 'snows', once we move past it and let it disappear, we can regain that purity and once again find that light that leads us to some kind of happiness. I think I may be on the right track, as long as it's only my footprints making the mess-that I think I can handle.

***I sure hope all of this made sense. I can't deny having had a few drinks tonight before playing in the snow then writing a blog. Either way, I hope you find it insightful and enjoyable to read. As always, thank you so much for taking a moment to stop by and read about the little blurbs of my life. My love to you ***

Wanna Push Past It? RANT IT OUT, BITCH!

2012-01-19T01:09:00.000-08:00

I wish I knew what it took to keep moving forward. The whole "why does it have to be so hard" question is seriously lacking dimension. For instance: what's the reason for being stuck on heartache? Why does abandonment have to feel so permanent even after you've regained your bearings? Is it Karma, bad luck, or unhappy circumstances that bring forth such pointless agony? AAAAAAGGGHHHHHHH!

I have been dealing with the loss of "someone" for quite sometime. No, not a death, but sometimes it feels like one. I hate that I can't fix it, yet I accept that it's UN-fixable. I am fuming at how hard I tried to make it right, but all it did was blow up in my face! Why did I waste all of my energy trying to make someone (someone who I thought cherished me as I did them but instead broke my heart) to love me again?? (Rhetorical question) No! Retract that! Why did I do it, dammit?! At one point during our time of companionship, I thought, no, BELIEVED, truly believed that we would be friends for the rest of our lives. THE REST OF OUR LIVES! How naive and pitiful I must sound right now. I should have known a long, long time ago after all the crap and stupid hurdles I have had to overcome in the past that somethings are never meant to last. And, don't get me wrong, I ignored my guts, my intuition. I knew that I was grasping at unraveling, loose ends with this person. I was ignoring the ugly truth and stubbornly continued believing that it was all roses and rainbows. I allowed myself to love this person so much so that when the unexpected "end" of our friendship came, I began having the most sad and wicked dreams, I would cry and yell in frustration and pain, I recoiled and hid in fear of anyone looking to get close, I pushed other loved ones away, I desperately scraped at my already scorched heart and mind for answers that I knew deep down in the putrid recesses of my subconscious would never be found. It was, I have to admit, worse than breaking up with a significant other, and I have been through quite a few of those (embarrassingly enough). And, as it would seem, I have some serious 'letting go' issues. It's been the pang of my existence what with my mom, with deceased loved ones, and by holding grudges.

I am ready to rid myself of this emotional disease once and for all! I need to mature from this, grow and learn. I, for whatever unexplained reason, fell in love with this person as more than just a "hey, how are ya?" friend. I attached myself on like a starving leech prepared to sanction the rest of my life on this blood source. (Too graphic?) Now I am seething with anger and bitterness and belligerent HATRED. I am ashamed of myself for caring and hurting for so long! Blast it all, IT'S TIME TO LET GO, ALICIA! LET GO! LEEEEETTT GOOOOOOOOOO, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY, LEEEEEETTTTT GOOOOOOOOOO!!!

I just exhaled. I'm not sure if that helped. Maybe I need to release a balloon into the air, or plant a tree, or....or......Damn, I have no unearthly idea. I am seriously open to any kind of suggestions any of you might have. How have you dealt with issues similar to this in the past? Help, friends. Please. Help me.

A Dream - 1st Vlog!

2012-01-13T19:27:00.000-08:00

Blueprints Equal Footprints

2011-12-01T01:00:00.000-08:00

The Plan

Volunteering:

As a Snuggler at Sinai Hospital in Baltimore
To entertain at the Children's Center at the Mt. Washington Pediatric Hospital
As a "Sharing the Gift" tutor at the local Elementary Schools
By reading for "Story Time" at the local Library

Goals:

To get involved in the Theatre again
To begin professional training in Opera
To relearn the piano
To learn the guitar
To become fluent in Spanish and Italian
To study a medical profession of some sort because it fascinates me
To continue my travels around the world

Short-Term Goals:

To attain a part-time job as to settle some debts and begin saving
To continue to train my puppy so that she may be help others during their hard times as she has been so wonderfully therapeutic for me
To continue writing my blog for myself and for those enjoying my words
To fall back into photography, painting, writing music and crafts
To be good to my body, giving her the respect and pampering she deserves
To remain in treatment allowing myself to stay open and honest with my emotions
To always find the POSITIVE in the people and things around me, especially my own thoughts

Motto(s):

My soul travels this Earth. My body is the luggage carrying it, going along for the ride. Be good to it for you need it and it needs you.
I am strong. I am beautiful. We all are.

Back to Me

2011-11-30T20:58:00.000-08:00

There are so many words that I can use to describe my experience in treatment. I think for now the best way to describe it would be: surreal. It's funny how we think we are so far gone until we are confronted with bitter reality. Here I was believing that I was at the end of my seams, ready to bust through to a world of discombobulation and fear, never to return to the "real" world, the sane world, when in the end, I had never been so close to sanity.

Tonight I decided to watch Girl, Interrupted though every patient in an eating disorder clinic is highly advised to never watch that. I decided that I needed to see the "danger" there was in it, to see if it would truly invoke some hatred or mania that would send me spiraling back into that place, that place of dark weakness. However, it did the exact opposite. Where I saw how it could send me back there, it instead reminded me of how well I am, how in control I've become of my mind and body. Because in utter truth, most of us have the choice to be sane. It is so easy to fall into a dark pit filled with tears, anger, screams, bloodshed and blackness because it serves as a perilous comfort. A way to escape the harsh responsibilities that life holds, and rather than pamper our fragile mental parts, we punish ourselves for being what we despise-weak and different-not like the others-but unable to survive. No, please understand that I am not implying that I am "cured", far FAR from it. I will never be able to forget where I've come from, where I've been, how I got there, and the feasibility of slipping back there in a heartbeat. Even if I tried, I can never forget what I saw inside of treatment. The scared patients, the angry ones, the hopeless ones, afraid of leaving, of getting better, of being healthy, of the world, of life. I related to every single one of them. Some of them I hated for so closely relating to my mental state, it was a projected hatred for allowing themselves to become someone so easily broken-as I had done myself. In the end I learned how to forgive them, to pity them, to love them as I needed to for me. I learned to love and forgive myself for everything I had been through and had done.

So here I am over a week out of treatment, recovering from a long awaited dental surgery, about to drive my happy ass all the way back home (18 hours) to see my family and friends and spend the holidays with them. I am so eager to enjoy life, to be a part of the human race, to smell, taste and see everything as I had always dreamed of but never allowed myself to do. All this time, happiness was at my fingertips, all there was to do is grab a'hold and not let go for the life of me. I am doing just that.

Kim Boekbinder in Concert October 27th. in New Orleans

2011-10-13T04:31:00.000-07:00

If you are in the New Orleans area.

If you want to know more about Kim Boekbinder check out the blog Eric wrote about her here.
AllWays Lounge and Theatre
2240 Saint Claude Avenue
New Orleans, LA 70117-8421

Feeling Big

2011-10-03T22:18:00.000-07:00

Since my last blog, I have been agonizing over what to write about. It had seemed that the second I began this blogging journey that I was ever pouring with my thoughts, clever comments and insightful outlooks of the day-to-day struggles of being 'Me'. However, at this point in my composing process, I realize that I haven't been myself in so long that at times it is so hard to say what exactly I should talk about, regarding "my" life, of course. Do I discuss the constant battles of right and wrong that I put myself through, the angry thoughts of those who have harmed me in the past that I can't seem to let go of, confusing moments of deciphering love and affection between me and those who truly care? In truth, this past month has been a mental blur. I have cried profusely, yelled at the top of my lungs, sat for hours unhinging from sanity, and for what? I can't even say. So, it is good that I write this blog. And as to make myself completely available to any of you who say they know me, or those who see me as that "funny gal", those who always told me that I am "so strong and confident", all those friends who lied and said that everything was going to be 'okay' and those who never cared to take a moment to talk to me, here is the disgusting, belligerent, raw, and brutal truth.

I am a girl who has been lost in her own head since she was but a child. This girl fell in love with lives that never belonged to her. She became engrossed in the characters of love stories and action movies. She dreamed of living the life of a simple maid who was adored by her rich master, a femme fatale who killed for passion for the right for freedom, a Cinderella who was forced to live as a pauper but was given a happy miracle of love and fortune. She did this by means of coping with her outside world. She did this so well that the facade grew to convince even her that it could be true. It wasn't until one day that after all of her dreaming, and hoping and praying, that the curtain of alluring love stories and strong, passionate women came crashing down. She had to learn. We all learn the hard way that in order for dreams to come true, we must work for them. Fools like myself, who were never given the true moral of the fairy tales, such as there are no fairy godmothers or magic lamps or sea-witches that grant requests, must be slapped in the forehead with such a large dose of reality that to some degree, we never fully recover whether its because we are weak, or because we threw all of our eggs into that "wish upon a star" basket or because we are not ready to face the reality we have avoided for so long. Sometimes the proverbial 'slap' takes years to even take its true effect. There in lies my point. Hi, my name is Alicia. Nice to meet you. I am an over-eater. I have been living with this ugly truth since I was a child. Now, at the age of 27, I am finally doing something about it.

This week I am committing myself to two weeks of self-help. It is time to break down the ugly walls I have built up to protect myself from the scariness outside; I must face it. I have dreamed of being a musician, an actress, a director, a translator, a traveler, a mother, an admirable person and all of these years I have yet to achieve any of those. I have opened doors and only barely put my foot inside. Yet I have blamed all of my 'un-success' on everything and everyone else: nature, God, my mother, dad....when the truth of it all is that it has been my own fears, stipulations, criticisms, anger and trifles holding me back. I depended so dearly on the thoughts and words of others that I only lived by them instead of my gut. I coddled relationships that I believed to be so deep and important that I convinced myself that they mattered when, in the thicket of everything else, it was just another excuse to remain rooted. Here I am now. The heaviest I have ever been in my life, completely uprooted from everything I have ever known-family, friends, home-, living around people so drastically different from me that it's hard to know when or when not to speak and while I am waking up everyday, I have fallen into a darkness that even I am not sure how to emerge out of. My dependency on the familiar has been displaced even stronger onto my dependency for food. It is what makes me feel better, yet feel worse. It comforts me yet sends me into spiraling guilt. And that is just the meager beginning.

So here I leave you. I will disappear for a couple of weeks in hopes to improve my outlook on life. I know when I come out my puppy will have gotten a little bigger, my husband will be happy I am home, my father will hope that I have been "cured", but life will have remained constant and still moving as if I my psychological hiccup had never occurred. I am hoping that by making this huge step that I will stumble upon a satisfying compromise with myself that will allow me to live happily, to follow my dreams, to face fears and never give up. That is what I am hoping for, and if I must work for it, then I guess I have no other choice-that, or stay very unhappy. I know that by divulging this unto you that I may be shining a displeasing light on myself, but it is high time that I turn off the 'pretend' light I have been living under for so long and start living under the right one. So, if you see fit to pity me or judge me or abandon me because of all of your newly developed knowledge, I understand, but in turn, it may make me a stronger person for it.

The Week of a Lifetime 8.22.11-8.27.11

2011-08-29T23:52:00.000-07:00

While my 'butt' stories are plentiful and could go on for days about them, I now have a story that might knock your socks off. Or at the very least, droop them. This week should have been a basic, simple, do-nothing week. However, I was hit with about seven curve balls to the head. I mean, literally pounded stupid. Shall I make a list of them? Sure, you know you want me to. Now, first off, let me just say that through this entire week I have been all by myself with only a five month old puppy as my company. Okay, here it goes:

1. Sallie Mae - the Reaper of student hell. Why haven't we blown them up yet? I am very ready to punch their corrupt system in the head. Currently I am unemployed. Having recently moved here, and being a military dependent, life has not exactly fell into the place that I would like it to be. But the bottom line is: I HAVE NO MONEY. A private in the military gets paid bubkiss. We can barely afford making insurance, phone, and other assorted bill payments, much less ones to a useless system that does nothing more than screw people over. (In my opinion, "higher education" is a bunch of shit! I have made some frivolous purchases before in my lifetime, but not one so big as I did for my "education", the most regrettable expense of my life. If I could turn in my useless degree in exchange for the loan debt and work at Walmart for the rest of my life, I would.) Back to my point. We made a payment to them earlier this month, therefore, cancelling the scheduled payment we had for later in the month. However, the high-horse bastards didn't cancel it because they thought it would be best if I made double payments (making this decision, of course without my permission). DOUBLE FREAKIN' PAYMENTS!? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Why would I do that when I can barely afford to live?? Believe me, Sallie Mae, you are the last money bucket I dump my change into; there are far more important buckets of shit that I will deal with before YOU. Well, that put me at a negative balance in my banking account. Yes, I am still waiting on my refund check to arrive, but that left me with no money- NO MONEY for the rest of the week. Pricks.

2. Google Adsense disabled their ads with my blog. I know they have their reasons, but for me, it was preposterous and disheartening. A perk to this blog, other than being able to relieve myself of my haunting hiny tales, is to advertise various company websites, and if by chance my readers happen to click and browse those sites, I may make a profit. It's not much by any means, but it's just a smidge of incentive to keep one going even when they may feel their most unmotivated.

3. There is an earthquake. AN EARTHQUAKE?? I leave Louisiana to get startled by a freaking earthquake! Where I am located the earthquake was a 5.0 on the Richter scale. Granted, it was no Japan-like situation, but it was truly scary. Let's talk about that for a brief moment. The ground begins to shake, as does my second floor apartment. My immediate thoughts:

"Wow, the guys on base must be testing some super hardcore machinery today."

It worsens even further that my computer begins wobbling and the ceiling fan is banging side-to-side...

"Son of a B***, this place can no longer withstand my weight! It's about to cave in!!" (Sad, huh?)

My belongings are falling off shelves, and my puppy is sitting on the back porch......

"Grab the dog! Get the spoonful of peanut butter out of your mouth and get downstairs! I'm going to die today!!"

Needless to say, it was quite the traumatizing experience. Don't get me wrong, the quake only lasted 50 seconds, but trust me when I say that my brain was operating at light speed. As I've mentioned to you before, I'm newly moved here in Maryland. I haven't really met or spoken to any of my neighbors. Though I've made the effort, nobody seems to want to make friends, at least not with the newby as of yet. I ran outside, as did almost everyone on my street. I stood there in my front yard stunned and shaken. I decided to ask some of the neighbors near by if we had just experienced an earthquake, and while they said they didn't know, they just as quickly turned their backs and continued to speak amongst themselves. I felt shunned and very helpless with only my confused puppy as my comfort.

4. Hurricane Irene approacheth. I knew there was a storm out in the Atlantic headed directly for the northeast, but quite honestly I really didn't focus in on it. Why, you ask? Well, for one, I had just experienced an earthquake so that was the least of my concerns. Also, I am from Louisiana, New Orleans to be exact. The way I saw it, all the bad-ass hurricanes go in that general direction. Not to mention, if there is one that comes this way, the most that may happen is what? Rain? All of a sudden, I'm getting phone calls left and right about this "hurricane". "Are you leaving!? Do you have supplies?! Are you going to die!??" (No not really, but it was that serious.) How could I drive or shop for anything, I had NO MONEY (Thank you again, Sallie Mae. Please, do the universe a favor and drink a warm glass of arsenic). Fortunately, I was forwarded enough money to be able to afford supplies and gas (Thanks, Mrs. Rose). I was fully hunkered down. I held my breath and waited for a storm to pass. In that meantime, I was told by a friend of mine back home that her two year old daughter, who has never met me but only heard my name once or twice, was saying my name the second she would wake up and all throughout the day. Omen much? Then my phone oh so conveniently falls into the bowl of bleach water that I was using to clean up the dog poop on my back porch. I now have no way to contact anyone to let them know that I'm okay if in the case the power goes out during the storm. I quickly and efficiently throw it into a bowl of rice (thanks, Lanie and Matt for that sound and effective advice!) THEN (as if that isn't enough) my puppy, a five month old red-bone coon-hound, decides as I was taking her out for her evening B.M., to treat me as a criminal. She was stunned by me, growled at me, then tried to flee FROM ME! Out of nowhere, my dog has no idea who I am and believes that I am a threat to her existence. Another omen maybe? The storm began its trench into my life. While it brought with it 60mph winds and 7'' of rain, it also carried with it a lot of hot air. Yeah, all that huff and no puff! What could I expect? They made it out to be another Hurricane Katrina, and I experienced first hand that storm so there most definitely seemed a need to panic. Despite its sad outcome, the experience was still pretty scary. Rain, wind, power outages and floods I can deal with. What had my colon in a knot was the thought of a tornado-unpredictable, ruthless, deathly. No thanks, Mother Nature, rather not try to win that fight. I didn't sleep a wink for fear that there may be one knocking at my door at any second (thanks to the tornado sirens going off the entire night). Other than that, I survived it.

What an intense week, eh? Unfortunately, there are a few other things that happened this week that blew my mind, but because of the other shots to the head, I've completely forgotten them. Admittedly, at first, I didn't think I was going to write about it. I figured you all would get one look at the length of this blog and say 'to hell with that, this bitch talks too much'. I also felt like I was standing weakly against a rush attack by the universe. Everything at once was telling me to hide under a rock and stay there until the next Ice Age, but I refused to let it stop me. Not to mention all my adoring fans (Alanna and Jeannie), I had no choice but to keep giving out the goods. And for those of you who have withstood the length of this tedious blog and is now able to share my story, I thank you with my whole heart. I needed to get this out of my system. It was hard (that's what she said!). It was lonely. Man, that was the worst part, being lonely. And it was scary. But I am proud to say that I learned a lot about myself in a single week. I know I can survive some of the hardest setbacks in life, even the ones thrown at me by Earth herself. That's a good thing, yeah? ............I think I need a nap.

Santa Clause lost his Street Cred!

2011-08-21T23:54:00.000-07:00

It's a sad day when you realize the magic has gone completely. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THE YOUTH OF TODAY?!?

When I first moved into this quiet and simple community, my first thoughts were, "This could be really nice." So began my hope for an altruistic neighborhood with friendly 'hellos' and gentle hand waving from passing car windows, to the deer playing in yonder field and the subtle sounds of laughter wafting in the air. Holy crap was I wrong! I began my journey on a fresh step. I vowed that I was gonna get this Tonka truck of a butt in shape. I became dedicated to walking one and a half to two miles every night. At first, I would get hand waves from the passerby's with that look of 'you go get it, girl!' in their eyes. (In my innocence, I fully embraced that warmth I oh so genuinely saw in them.) Then I began to notice two types of looks from the people who saw me, whether they were walking or driving by. The first one was "Hm, maybe she should have started her quest a few turkey legs ago." and the other was "If I don't make eye contact, she won't try to make friends. Heaven forbid if she starts coming over, I'll have to lock up the good chips!"-I swear there was panic in their poor, beady eyes. Now, I know what you may be thinking, "Okay, are you sure you weren't being paranoid? You don't think you're maybe being a little over-dramatic? Could you have possibly read into their faces a little much?" Here's my answer: NO! Yes, I am dramatic, but what kind of storyteller would I be if I wasn't, but that's neither here nor there when I know what I saw. And yes, while I may have been raised by a parent who may or may not have been a severe conspiracy theorist, paranoia was far from my mind. How could I have been reading what was clearly written all over their faces? (That was a rhetorical question, Smarty-pants!) So that was the beginning of the 'Dampening', as I like to call it, or in other words, the pin that slowly popped my Hope Bubble. There were also run-ins with the locals at the grocery store where even after I locked eyes with the gaping many, those fools were bold enough not to unlock their gaze. I mean, they were hellbent in getting as much of my body into their brains as possible. It didn't help that the amazement was painted all over their faces. The expression that said, "I didn't realize butts could get that big." or the elderly train of thought, "Back in my day, a woman's rear was never larger than a 12 pants! And that's how we liked it! Kids these days!" Okay, okay,.....now you think that was a bit overkill, wait till you hear the best part....

It was a late evening, I'd say around 7:00ish. I was at the tale end of my walk when I was passing the community playground. I remember hearing the youthful chit-chat of a group of eight and nine year-old girls near a swirly slide. No sooner did I smile at the thought of those kids discussing which girl was going to the play the wicked queen and who was going to play the princess that I began hearing that dreaded, painful phrase. "You're fat! You're fat!! YOU'RE FAT! HEY! YOU'RE FAT!!" Er, like I haven't noticed! What are you to do?? That same group of kids were yelling at me from behind a park bench. My blood boiled. My first instinct was to grab every last one of them by their pants, prop them on the swing-set so that their parents could find them soiled and wedgie'd, hanging like laundry. Boy, did I have to choke that one back! Then after two more miserable minutes of the childish berating (yes, it was a big playground and admittedly, I am not the speediest of walkers), I snapped. I said the first thing that I could think of, the only thing that would be the least cruel with minimal threat in comparison to the evils floating about in my skull. I yelled calmly "You know, you're being mean, which means you're being NAUGHTY! Santa does NOT like naughty! So you won't be getting any presents, and I'll make sure he gets the message!" As if I just uttered blasphemy, they immediately retorted, "I DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING! HEY! I DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING! HEY!!", but I continued walking back to my house. I smiled with pride feeling justice as been serv-"Hey, you're fat! YOU'RE FAT!" Failure. My clever tactic was meager and soft to these hard criminal children. My heart sank as I was defeated, feeling insecure, pathetic...and of course, fat. Needless to say, it was only chocolate and a good melatonin supplement that made me feel the teensiest bit better later that same evening. Looking back on it now, I am still in awe, but not because of the hardship I endured from those tiny heathens, but the downright disrespect to our beloved St. Nic! What is the world coming to??

Santa Clause, if you're reading this, I still believe in you, and I fully expect a lump of coal in each one of their stockings this year (that includes a swift kick in their rears!).....Also, I wouldn't mind getting that Barbie house I've been asking for since I was 12. I realize you've been busy, but.......I have been an awfully good girl (just thought I'd put that out there).

Can I get this chair in a larger size, please?

2011-08-20T00:17:00.000-07:00

I'm going to assume that you really don't need an explanation of title, but for the sake of those completely oblivious to this idea, I will break it down:

Small town movie theater,
Large popcorn and an ice cold drink,
Nerves a-flutter and heart pumping for the good previews,
Eyes scanning the room for the perfect seats,
The only thing to be found........shame and disappointment.

I know. Dramatic. But hey, it got my point across. This exact scenario occurred not but two weeks ago when my brother was visiting from back home. We walk into the theater, and we see these beautiful rows of red movie seats. As we fall in to sit down, I nearly bruised my hips and hiny when I plopped hard on the arms of the chair before realizing they did not lift up. I was, therefore, forced to sit in the stairway at the very top left-side corner of the theater in order to enjoy the movie. ('Which movie, which movie??' Well, if you must know, it was Harry Potter-DH2. (You're right, it was a loooooong movie)) Despite the embarrassment and shame I instantaneously felt when I yet again realized that my badonk was too large to fit in what seemed to be an adequate enough space, I was able to stretch out my legs, which suffice it to say, was much better than being crunched between two rows of seats. Next time, I just need to remember a pillow and a blanket; the cold floor will chill the bones.

It happens a lot though. That was not the first seat I've been denied. The first time that I experienced this kind of pain and degradation was my first ever trip to Disney World and Universal Studios during my senior year in high school (year is irrelevant). The talk of the trip was the Hulk Ride. I was so stoked, I stood in line for almost two hours (time was no option for the best ride at the park). My turn comes 'round, I go to sit in the seat, except, I have to wedge in sideways to fit. But it was all for not, the barrier buckle (that is supposed to keep you from dying and what not) would not connect. I had (have) way too much flesh for the mighty life-saver to handle. The walk of shame down to the nearest milkshake stand became my new theme park destination. It didn't stop there; it became a constant re-occurrence, from roller coasters, to restaurant booths, to airplane seats (or any other transportation seating (let's not even start about how many tickets I've gotten out of because I couldn't stretch the seat belt around my largeness), certain recliners, and those are just a few that I can remember at this late hour.

It's humiliating, it's embarrassing, not to mention a humongous pain in the patootie. PUN! However, in spite of it all, I know that if and when in the future, this incredible excuse for a hind-end scales down to a more socially acceptable fanny, I will appreciate with abundance being able to fly airplanes, drive cars, ride roller coasters, sit with company at dinner, etc...with complete ease and comfort. And if I really wanted to look on the BIGGEST bright-side of this tail (ANOTHER PUN (Okay I'll stop)), I can at least say that it has most certainly made for some interesting, yet entertaining stories. Wouldn't you agree? Sigh....goodnight, World.

Yeah, these are spandex, what's it to ya?

2011-08-15T19:49:00.000-07:00

Ah, the wonders of spandex and elastic. They make life so much easier. As for any skinny broad that tells ya otherwise, slap 'em upside the head. No, but seriously, slapping leads to prison in one way or another, so no slappy. I do enjoy some stretchy pants, I tell ya -hell, pants, jeans (not that those are available in my size), capris, coolots, GOUCHOS! Oh, gouchos are my favorite, no clinging to be had-not that I believe that society can't imagine what's going on underneath the flimsy cloth, but denial can be a beautiful thing. (Note that I never once mentioned a type of trouser that went above the knee; that would be threatening to both the world and my esteem (talk about thunder thighs from hell...or Heaven for some)).

I have this distinct memory of my father telling me one morning before church "You look like boudin in that shirt! Go put something on that fits." For those of you who are not familiar with Louisiana cuisine, boudin is a type of sausage created in various ways. Some are stuffed with dirty rice and pork, or crawfish tails instead of pork, some are stuffed and fried (and we wonder why we're the hefty state). Point is: They're stuffed to the brim! That blouse which was the 'pig casing' to my meaty rice of a body was my favorite shirt. I thought I was sooooo sexy. Then again, I was 12 and had no clue what was "sexy". I did know this-the tighter the better. It wasn't until I started to truly 'blossom' that I realized I should go with better fitting garments, such as: sturdier, well-fitting braziers, contouring jeans, and sexy but becoming tops. Luckily for me, I was blessed with curves, so the stuff that made other women look frumpy, made me look decent. It wasn't until college that I was, how should I say, 'OVER-BLESSED' with the trunk of the gods. In fact, if I were to imagine Aphrodite, I would imagine her having this rump-roast....nah, probably not, but maybe.

I love clothes, I do. Though many times I have had my trifles, BECAUSE of my adorned caboose. I know I've mentioned sizing issues in my first blog, but allow me to divulge. Fortunately, unfortunately (there are so many ways to look at it), my waIst is two times smaller than my hips, making it very difficult to find a befitting blouse or top of any kind. You see, most clothing stores create the shirts according to the ratio of its appointed size. They never consider a body type that involves smaller dimensions up-top as opposed to larger ones on the lower end, and I'm sure they should realize that no big girl wants to wear a shirt that does not come at least halfway down her hips (we're not showing belly here, Heaven forbid). Most times, I end up looking like I'm wearing a moo-moo around my shoulders and chest and a bathing suit around my butt. So stressful. But I digress, I can still make this body boast with pride when I want, pride and...magnitude, which is all that matters, right? Right...?

PROOF!

2011-08-14T13:40:00.000-07:00

On the Verge of Tears, Tearing, Tore...Whatever

2011-08-12T13:17:00.000-07:00

I....am a cyclical mess. I'm serious. I do the same thing over and over again without any real LOGICAL reason. I go based off the nonsense in my head. For instance: I'm currently in the job market. I had to relocate due to family reasons, and therefore, had to resign from my former position. So I'm home now, watching t.v., playing on the computer, getting thoroughly stressed because of my puppy (about 4-5 months old now). I visualize myself taking pictures of wonderful things I see outside when I'm walking her, but I don't have a camera, nor can I afford one. I sit on the couch, listening to my classical music and I imagine these far out scenes that could would be perfect for the song, but am too scared to get up and start writing it as I may forget it and then I would be pissed-so I don't get up. I want to teach myself guitar, I have the books, even the guitar, but I don't want to start as I may hurt my wrist (carpal tunnel) and may get frustrated-so my guitar continues to collect dust. UGH. I MUST BE PSYCHOTIC. It's illogical, irrational,...stupid. I must have written over 30 songs on the piano when I was younger. No, I don't know how to play, correctly per say. I know how to listen and play what I'm hearing (no, not like a musical prodigy). When I write, I base it off the chords I know and to the capacity I let my fingers move, then if the sound captures my heart, I continue to play then add lyrics. I would bring myself to tears with some of my work. Now, I sit at the piano (keyboard). I stare at the keys seething with anger that I never learned how to play properly. I hate it so much that I don't even try to write anymore.

Why are we so hard on ourselves, America? We are humans. We are alive and beautiful beings. We reproduce and create music. We grit our teeth, we basque in the sunlight and dance in the rain. We cry and hurt. We get scared of the unknown and love unconditionally. We taste spices and scream at the top of our lungs. We build machines and sketch what we see. We are astoundingly phenomenal creatures and yet, we hate ourselves, loathe each other. We judge and fight. We criticize and are insecure of what was rightfully given to us through evolution and the spirit.

I talk of big game people, but I am just as scared as the rest of you. The fact is that we are porcelain- beautifully crafted but easily shattered. It's a shame really. I can feel a burning strength in me that I refuse to let shine because I know that by feeling freely I may feel pain. I hate pain. Even when I was younger when I would fight my brothers, I knew that words were my only defense as I was afraid of being pummeled, well,...who isn't, right? Who isn't?

The 'Butt'

2011-08-11T20:10:00.000-07:00

36 x 24 x 66

Don't believe me, ask my tailor. Like I have a tailor. I am 100% sure that half of the people who 'stumble' upon my blog were actually in search of a more...adventurous site, wouldn't you say? No, but I'm sure you're wondering, "Okay, so why would you boast about your huge trunk and not post pics or even talk about it??' Well, quite honestly, I've suffered many insecurities concerning this 'float' of rump.

Hmm.....Okay, let me put it this way. Lane Bryant was so puzzled by my butt that they had to recreate pants sizing. I'm serious. Rather than the old, "This is my pants' size so I'll get 'em!" instead it's "Okay, here is my size for my waist, but just in case it's the wrong material, I'll go with this size. I also need it in this color code to match my curves and then at this length to possibly match up to my legs." Yeah, it's that complicated. And truth be told, while my waist size may be a, I dunno, let's go with....10 (made-up number), my butt makes it a 16. It's that much of a difference. Still not convinced? I have had literally multiple, multiple black ladies tell me 'Wow, girl, you sure you don't have any black in you?' or 'Damn, Sweetie, I wish I had your trunk, you put me to shame.' or, my favorite, 'Oh, girl, I know the black men love you.' Does that help at all? OKAY, I'M A FLIPPIN' 28/30 pants! (Or in Lane Bryant modern pants size, a Blue 8). Geez, now will you sleep tonight?

Truth is though, while I do have some fears concerning my rear, such as 'when will I end up on peopleofwalmart.com, if I haven't already had an involuntary cameo on the site', I am quite proud of my luscious derriére. Why you might ask? Well, for one, there are not that many white chicks with this kind of back. Secondly, it makes me different, if nothing else, it sets me off from the rest of the masses. And three, I can sit a lot longer than any a you can on a cold floor or a hard seat...oh yeah, you all know what I'm talking about. Ah.....ode to my butt. Shall we sing a song?? "I LIKE BIG BUTTS AND I CANNOT LIE" .....go on, I won't stop ya. ;-)

What are your insecurities? If you feel like venting.....

Who Am I?

2011-08-10T11:27:00.000-07:00

Clever title, eh?

What's funny is that I am actually asking YOU who I am. It's not a title at all. Ha! And you thought you were in it for the real deal- 'A professional blogger, one with deep thought and subtle wit'. *BUZZER* Negative. There was once a time that I truly thought, "I'm special. I'm going to be something great and amazing and different!" Don't get me wrong, I am something great-to my family, my friends, but to myself? Pshht. I have started this blog to say everything I want to say...about my butt. So I guess since I am putting it all out there, I should start out with exactly how I feel. About a piece of everything.

We've all seen the movies of people writing blogs or journals and having the world read them as if their lives had meaning and importance. Luckily for the characters, if their lives weren't interesting we probably would not be watching a movie about them. Redundant? For a huge chunk of my life, I lived as if there was a camera on me all the time. I lived a reality t.v. show with no audience, but I swore there had to be something or someone watching or else, what's the point? It actually wasn't until recently that I realized that according to Freud (and every other psychologist that I SHOULD be seeing), I should be living for what I see in myself not for what anybody would see. And hey, not that I am opposed to seeing one, but I am one poor scag. Oh look, I found a starting point....

Poor. Poverty. Moneyless. Useless. I know what you're thinking...."join the club", right? I've decided that I am going to help pay the country's debt one way or another. I just need the whole amount of the population to help out. I mean, think of it this way: If everyone everyday put a dollar into someone's banking account, making it a consecutive and constant motion, eventually the debt will be paid. I mean, think about it: BILLIONS of people depositing $1 into someone's account. Their debt is payed off, then they have enough to go and help pay the rest of the country's debt. It becomes a group effort and a cycle. Hey,...you never know....it could work. I guess what you could assume about me is that I am a vicious dreamer, and what I mean by 'vicious' is that while my dreams are big and fantastic, they always have one or more flaws. Take the debt idea, NOBODY would want to just give a dollar of their money away unless it was to a starving child or homeless puppy. We hate to give a dollar to someone who is undeserving and will waste their money on booze or gambling. Which, hey, I don't blame them. In a perfect world, society would WANT everyone to be happy and content with their lives and therefore, help each other out so to live harmonious lives. Nope, instead, we live in a cracked and burning world, filled with greed, destruction and anger dripping with the puss of hatred, peering out the side of our eyes waiting for our next contender.

Phew, let's step away from that before I lose you. Okay. Where were we? Oh, who am I? Still no clue, huh? You and me both, but I'll tell you this much: I can sing. I draw. I love writing, both words and music. I dance, quite marvelously actually for a girl of my....dimensions? Did I mention I'm a heavy-weight? :-) Have I made you uncomfortable? Trust me, you could not be more uncomfortable than me in a pair of jeans, or an airplane seat, or my bathtub for that matter. I am in the process of handling that actually-only took me 27 years. I guess.................sometimes it really does take a large clicking sound to go off in your head for something to make you want it bad enough that you'll do something about it. Then again, to be honest, before this, I was never able to, I couldn't afford it. Ugh....going BACK to money. DOESN'T IT ALWAYS GO BACK TO MONEY?? GEEZ!

OK, okay, I'm calm. I will stop here for tonight. I know that there is good in this world, and I want to talk about it too. In fact, there is so much more I would love to write about, but I must pace myself. That is always my problem: I want every thing NOW NOW NOW. If I can just let it come with ease and leave with grace, I think we might be okay. Okay...so. If there is anyone out there tuning in, tell me how you feel. Please? I want to know that I am not the only one, the only one lost, scared, scraping by, wishing and hoping and praying, peering behind corners, still dreaming big but scared to jump...... I know that I am not only one, but am I misplaced in feeling all alone in this world? Talk to me, World. Let's be alone together. Goodnight.

Lee

Join me.