Day 210: Selfies My Way

Day 210

green smoothie wreck

7/29/19

Green Smoothie: Spinach, (blah), green apple, strawberry, put butter, banana, whey protein powder, water....blend, chia seeds.

meal complete, sans chewing...

perfect for my nonchalant, sick of chewing attitude.

Sometimes I wish I had someone to take nice candid shots of me...ya know, just so when I'm missing they will find me...

If you were to look on B's social media or phone, or picture history you will find no mention (in pictures) of me.  There are many many pictures of Olive, of himself...his car, his guitars, amps....motorcycles....dog....

not me.

I asked him about this and he said his social media is for work.

Hmmm...ok. are tacos work?

What I believe to be true is that I am slightly under par according to him.

so we will leave it at that.

In return I take many of my own happy selfies...

the best being the "I don't care after workout/ run" selfies

 and leg and feet selfies ( because they are always cute).

They go lots and lots of places.

I have even contemplated a picture book of all the travels and countries I have photoed my feet.

not for anyone...just me....dont worry I won't be gifting those.

candid photos are a luxury because you have to have someone who sees something and who has the care to take a picture.

I take a ton of pictures and my favorites are the ones I take of my friends just being.

They hate it until I send them later.  

I often see them used as profile pics and such which makes me happy.

I'm careful to never post an unflattering picture because I feel that is a bit of a bummer and happens quite often when I'm looking at random shots on media.

capturing people in their form is a beautiful loving thing.

here are a few that make me smile.

 Kris ....old lady cartwheels....yes she was drinking

we call her Betty, and she is always smiling and gives the best hugs.

Photo ops....It wasn't my op, but I took advantage

This kid was funny...dog dish reinvented....

the Litas...I took this, they use it all the time...I'm not in it

my sweet work wife, Heather....ready for radiation

Pictures ....

Don't hate me for snapping so many, If I love you.....

I have pictures.

snap ya later,

m

Learning to adjust a twatty attitude

I had a different topic I was going to write about tonight, but I have had a few things on my mind which I need to address for myself.

As of late I am trying to own my person.  It is not easy because my person, me, is a twat.

Part of this, owning me, is coming down to lots of change that is a bit uncomfortable and extremely difficult because I am not one to give up what little bit of control I have of my fraying self.

I have been attempting to own my mistakes and acknowledge faults which are being pointed out to me. I have told myself there is no excuse for my behavior regardless of my hurt and pain. The way I have started to work on this is by first telling myself that I have made it this far. I have to look at myself everyday and see the faults in the mirror, but those faults, those looks, the features, the glasses, the hair, the wrinkles, the unattractive hands, breasts, vagina, cellulite and feet are me.

No matter how many miles I run....they will still be there.

 I will still feel like the woman who was told she will never be loved like she wants, satisfied, or happy enough with anything....

That I am too much of a problem, too hard to love, even if the person wants to.

2/9/19

Knowing this is hard, hearing it is harder, living it is absolutely soul breaking.

I have so much to say about all of this....

At work the other day I got called to the office for a poor attitude.  

Imagine that. 

This has been on repeat for what seems like too long. The turning point was not when work boss told me to make a correction ( being clear to point out that the patients I care for have nothing but great things to say about me and the people I work around say my skills are among the top)

but it was when someone I love dearly told me I make others the bad guy, and always assume the worst. 

I couldn't take it anymore.

I knew he was right because I felt so hurt, so embarrassed and just shitty.

shitty

I was thankful he called me out...and hurt me hard enough to make me think.

I can only move forward one day at a time and try to do better and to apologize. 

Learning to let go of control is going to be difficult for me. My work ethic is stronger than most and I get irritated when people do not do things as they should be done...

But this is not my position to correct people, my job is to work the way I work and be the person I hope will stand out.

I also cannot assume everyone is out to hurt me. I need to start letting people love me and trust that they actually care about me. 

Control is what has allowed me to survive a rough young adult life, a few traumas, divorce, single parenthood, loss, and my own hatred.

Letting go of control might allow my attitude to soften and to trust that someone will be there when I stumble, because of now, my answer to everything is , " I'll just do it myself. "

And that is not really what I want. 

I really do not

I want to be able to ask for help, as much as I help others.

To let someone lead me.

To learn not to demand, as I was taught as a young girl, but to allow it to happen.

My person is tired of taking care of everything and it needs a break.

That might be the first step to helping this twatty attitude change.

letting go.

why does it take so long to learn this shit?

Write ya later,

m

Daddy Issues....but a beyond perfect Daddy

My dad and I used to take showers together. 

 I'm sure we did until he decided I was too old.  

I'm guessing around 6 or 7. 

 I loved it.  He had soap on a rope, Old Spice, and a loofah.  There was a tiled seat in the shower and I would sit and fold the washcloth over and over again.  That is all I remember except that when I was small he would pick me up and soap me all over and occasionally drop me….on the tile. 

 It never stopped me from joining him.

We were close. I was his Peanut and he was the man who fed me sardines out of a roll top can and gave me sips of Budweiser.

My dad was a huge part of my life, even when he was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's he was still there for me. Even as a punk rock teen he never said a derogatory word, he always built me up and felt pretty confident in my intelligence and abilities.

About the time I was 14 dad was at the pinnacle of the downside of Alzheimer's. He had to give up driving, he was often mean, and was also often found wondering the golf course in his underwear in the gated community we lived in.

None of it really bothered me, except for when he would be outside in his underwear , watering the driveway, smoking a camel unfiltered when I would arrive home from high school with my friends. Luckily my friends were pretty understanding...but it was still somewhat embarrassing to explain what was going on.  Once explained, it was pretty comical. 

Dad would offer my 15 year old friends beer and we would have to kindly decline, knowing we really weren't allowed. He would ask my guy friends how long we were married ( I was 15), and sometimes he would straight out say, " who the hell are you?" to my face as I was getting us a snack.... and I would turn and smile and say, "Dad, it's just me, Myssi/Melissa I live here, in that room over there." He would look at me, look at the door to my bedroom and say, " Where's your mother?" then walk away. 

It was tough at times, but at other times it was hysterical. Towards the end, he would sit in his old green corduroy  chair, watch TV, look at catalogues and talk to himself. One time I leaned over to give him a kiss on his cheek and noticed he was looking at a Victoria Secret's Catalogue. He pointed to some T&A and tapped his finger, gave a little catcall and shook his head. (At that point I promptly announced that he was faking Alzheimer's)

  He liked to eat and drink so we would sometimes water down a Gin and let him chew on a Camel unfiltered while he ate ice cream.He was easy going in those days, barely talked....just sat and looked like an empty shell. We would dress him for holiday parties, slap a Santa hat on him for Christmas and bunny ears for Easter....sick or not, he was in that chair part of the family, proudly propped in the living room. He was loved and respected....even with the bunny ears on.

 One time I came to visit from Atlanta,  I was about 20 and had just bought a little miniature pig, Daisy.  It didn't even phase my dad.  He would sit in his chair and call Daisy..."here puppy...puppy" and whistle....then give her a bit of whatever he was eating and she would sit next to him oinking like a stuffed pig.  He would slip his old slippers off and rub her belly with his foot and she would oink and grunt as happy as could be. We would all just sit and laugh....it's the little things.

here's the question....

Did this, growing up with a sick dad change my being?

Of course I have a great sense of humor and I'm pretty damn loving but my ability to be confident in myself is poor. 

could this be partially due to lack of father figure?   ahhhhhh

is always looking for approval from a man a direct result from no dad when I was in my formative years? It would explain a ton.

just for the record,,,,

my upbringing was great.  My mom and dad were pretty fucking awesome, we were wealthy, traveled and well respected ....even when my dad got sick, they had fun and loved each other.  They cocktailed, loved each other and my mom took care of my dad until he died.  She never locked him a home....he stayed at our home....slept in the same room with my mom....even when she had to put him in a hospital bed, they still slept in the same room.

So, I always saw love.

So how the hell is my idea of self love so screwy.?

Getting Laid on the wrong side of the age gap

The truth of the matter is…I need to get laid.  

There I said it.

If it's too much info for you, stop reading now, because knowing me it will only get worse and I dont often have control over my brain,mouth and writing.

See, I'm 44.  

I make an effort to be healthy.  I eat properly, I work out…I may not be super pretty, but I take care of myself.

I pride myself in being in pretty good shape.  

I even occasionaly shave my legs.

well, if I think someone may touch them or the sun my reflect off the length.

Back to my point.

My other half has lost interest.  I'm pretty sure it is in me, but could possibly in general.

When I asked the other day, he said…Yeah, I'm too tired…. rather just relax.

hmphf.

well…where does that leave me?

Short of getting a house boy, it leaves me to my own devices, which is never good…

or leaves me to finding another non sexual hobby…such as buying new furniture or vacationing.

Either one is fine.

Maybe I need a girlfriend.

well….

I guess I will shop online for some new shoes…

run around the lake and knit some more.

that should fix it.

I'm leaving you with a picture to make you think…it could be worse.

Typhoid…it's what's for dinner

A chore which brings so many people joy, brings me anger and hatred.  I guess the people who enjoy it don't actually call it a chore, right?  

From the minute I wake up to the minute I put the last dish in the dishwasher I feel anger…anger ANGER.

When in time did it become the woman's job to cook dinner?  Someone tell me when, please.  Because I want to go back in time and destroy that rule.

I think back to the history books and yes, my memory often fails me….the only woman I can remember who did a good job for the reason woman should not be the only cooks in the household is Typhoid Mary.  She cooked for everyone and managed to kill nearly everyone of them.  Now granted, I'm no Typhoid Mary, but if it could get me out of cooking multiple unappreciated meals for my family I would consider it.  I seriously would.

I can work a 12 hour day and come home to 3 perfectly capable, all limbs attached, intelligent people standing around waiting for dinner.  

Are YOU kidding me?   I should have dinner on the table waiting for me!  

Let me also say that my cooking skills are very slim.   I enjoy cooking vegetarian meals but as for Bobby…I can't put a meat and potato dinner together if my life depended on it.  I try.  I just can't get the timing down.  

To tell you the truth, even when I do cook an average meal it is so much work and no one gives a rat's ass I never want to do it again.  What's wrong with cereal for dinner?  

Maybe I should consult with the history texts and see if I can find a few of Typhoid Mary's recipes.

Do a little reinventing of the history timeline

Next I'm going to figure out who put us in charge of Laundry.

xo,

m

BACK...

But not 100%.
here's how I know:
Got up at 430 am to get to work and make a few bucks...left the house with my lunch but forgot my work badge, my purse, wallet and everything else. lordy

I don't have the flu, that is good. Just some sort of nasty cold which is going around.
I'm still tired.
I have a huge test on Thursday for Pharmacology and pharmacodynamics (nice word huh?). study study study.

I'm sure by the end of the day I will have something funny and possibly intelligent to say, so stay tuned.
in return...i just want you guys to know I still love you!!!