Sunday, September 5, 2010

The Freaks and the Beautiful - poetry


I feel so obvious right now
and not in a good way
I feel I'm in the way and
too hard to miss.

Only standing out
because I am so boring and plain
the odd one out
amongst the freaks and the beautiful.

I hate feeling like I'm competing
Like I'm competing and losing
falling behind, unable to keep up
with the freaks and the beautiful.

I cannot compare
and have no right to stand
shoulder to shoulder
with the freaks and the beautiful.

I don't want to drag you down
hold you back, taint your soul
with boredom and routine
you should be having fun
with the freaks and the beautiful

Sunday, August 29, 2010

mirror mirror on the..... floor..

my throat is itching and I haven't even written anything.... that's how much this stresses me out...

Last night, laying in bed, I was thinking about my life and I came to the sad and sorry realisation that I have spent most of my life (not that it's been all that long, only 29 years) hating myself. Now I'm not talking about the odd "fat day" here and there, the rogue pimple that makes you want to hide for days, the frizzy hair days that cause you to stand in the bathroom with a hair straightener and a bottle of vodka for 3 hours. I'm talking about full blown, burning, fuel filled self-loathing. A hatred and disgust and such soul deep repulsion that I have spent a great deal of time willfully desiring to destroy myself. Rip myself apart, hack and slash and tear away the pieces that displeased me (which was about 98% of my physical being).

It's not easy being plain, or unattractive, in a world that is so hyped up on beauty. EVERYTHING must be beautiful at all times... your home, your clothes, your accessories, your jewelry, your car, your partner, your children, everything. So when something as major and important as your own self is lacking in that department it can become distressing to see everything else around you as beautiful. It becomes habit that you start fearing how badly you taint the pretty pictures around you.

I have spent so much time running away from the beautiful things around me, afraid that my being there would end up being so obvious and so out of place. I have destroyed my relationship time and time again in fear that I would be "found out"; that people would notice how out of place I looked next to Mojo, how far from his norm I was. I was terrified that someone would point this out and that suddenly HE would notice and recoil from the repulsion of suddenly realising how awful I really was, and how bad I made him look.

I grew up being taught that women are objects of beauty, accessories to make their partners look good, and not much else. They were sex objects, used by men for their basic urges. Women were SUPPOSED to be beautiful at all times. They were not supposed to be ugly, or fat, or not blonde. So I grew up being the chubby, plain, brunette girl that was ashamed of everything I was and everything I was not. I haven't been able to let go of this 'truth'. As much as I logically tell myself that it cannot possibly be true society tells me every day that it is in fact, common knowledge and societal FACT that fat chicks = satan's idea of a joke.

Fat chicks are not Mojo's women of choice, I am in a unique position (I guess) in that during the 10-odd years that we've been "together" I have seen him flit from woman to woman all of the same cut... all tiny, all gorgeous, all kinky, goth, and the absolute polar opposite of me. This kind of information doesn't do well for a woman's self esteem.... okay probably not all women, just me, but whatever. Yes, he always comes back to me... and yes, perhaps these cookie cutter goth beauties are his "rebound type" but never in my life have I ever - EVER seen Mojo even smile at a fellow fatty. This poses an unusual conundrum for me.... am I just so amazingly and fantastically awesome that Mojo just cannot help himself when it comes to loving me. (this is, of course, the right answer) OR have I made life so comfortable for him that he can just laze about (slum it) with me until Something Stunning This Way Comes? Whence he sits bolt upright, takes notice and puts his groove on.

I know Mojo is a flirt, and a damn good one at that. It is one of the things that I love about him, funnily enough. I know he will flirt with almost any woman who happens to be in about a 10 mile radius, lol. The flirting doesn't actually worry me. Actually nothing HE does, per se, worries me. It wouldn't matter if I was in a relationship with Jesus himself, I would still fret about my existence in his life. Fear that my position will quickly be replaced by a pretty little thing who makes him look good.

Mojo once said to me that Guys want a girl that will make their mates jealous, and if Im being honest - my lasagna isn't THAT good.

I would hate for my daughter to be sitting at her computer in 20 years time writing something similar to this. I don't know how to instill a positive body image in her when I don't know what it means to have one myself. How do I teach her things that I don't know myself. How do I teach my son that all women are beautiful when the most important woman in his life doesn't think she is beautiful. It is frustrating and scary to think that I am bringing children up to love and respect people when I'm not sure I do a very good job of doing that very thing to my own self.

I try very hard to be cool with myself, but being critical and cruel and judgmental to the girl in the mirror has become second nature. Being horrible to myself is like breathing. I don't even realise I'm doing it unless I really concentrate on it. And even then, the messages are so deeply ingrained that I don't know how to counteract them. I don't actually know what it's like to be with a guy who LOVES my body just because of how it is. I have no idea what it would be like to be with a guy who wants to touch me everywhere (and not just on the girly bits) because he actually LIKED those parts of me. It is completely shallow and awful but there is a small part of me that would love to be with a guy who has a pure, unadulterated fetish for fat just to experience the sensation. Mojo can tell me he thinks I'm beautiful all he likes (I believe him on some level) I've never found him looking at BBW porn.

I'll quit moaning for now, because the kids are hungry and I need a coffee. I may or may not post more self loathing at another date...

Till next time

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

the "joys" of parenthood

I really hate being a parent some nights... most nights. Tonight especially. I am really disliking my children. It's nights like this when I can understand parents who snap and beat their children. That overwhelming sense of frustration.

When I feel like this, and I'm hating my life and I'm hating my children and I'm hating being a parent, it makes me not want to go to Darwin to be with Mojo. I don't want to dump this on him. I don't want to give him two unruly children and a mother who is so frazzled, stressed and unhappy that I'd like to burn my house down.

I hate feeling like this.
I'm sorry love.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

When Family is Toxic

I'm really angry right now. Really, really, really angry.
To make it worse I have horrible stomach cramps that are just making me crankier.

I told my Grandmother on Monday that I wouldn't be staying. I told her as gently as I could, given the circumstances. She was upset, of course, but took it well. This morning she calls me and tells me she's not up to coming to take Little Fish to school. This was fine, I didn't mind. I knew she wasn't feeling well but I couldn't help but wonder if this was a punishment. Anyway I got Little Fish to and from school via other means, so it really wasn't a problem.

Mother came over this afternoon and tells me that Grandmother's friend (who is a nurse) believes she has had a Mini-stroke! Of course, this is all my fault. Mother didn't say that, but she said it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't told Grandmother. Like I said to Mother, what was I supposed to do? Lie? Disappear one day never to return? Send her a postcard after the fact??

Grandmother is deeply saddened because she fears that she is at an age (she's 78) where this may be the last she ever sees of me, the little Fish and the little Lioness. Whilst this may be true, I cannot wait for her to die so that I am allowed to move. That is just emotional blackmail.

Grandmother called tonight, and sounded better, said she would come tomorrow to take Little Fish to school. She still has the flu, but has recovered from this morning. I bid farewell to her and soon after Mother calls. Apparently Father had called her and asked if she knew how sick Grandmother was. Father then proceeded to barrage Mother for not changing my mind about moving.

Father also asked why Grandmother paid for the wood for my fire. Mother explained that my Uncle (who chopped and delivered the wood) turned up unannounced and Grandmother offered to pay him. I would then get the money off Mother and reimburse her. Father was furious and asked why I hadn't given her the money yet, which Mother again explained; because I hadn't SEEN Grandmother since then. I have the money in my purse and I will be giving it back to her tomorrow.

Mother said the whole conversation with Father was horrible, and they left with Mother saying "goodbye" and hanging up without waiting for a reply. This is SO typical of my family. All the stupid inter-fighting and blaming each other for shit. And they honestly think they could talk me into staying.... staying with THAT!

Goddess of Money
and earthly delights
I ask for your help
in my personal plight.

I'm selling my car
I really need cash
my bookcase and furniture
to help make the dash

I ask you to fill
buyers pockets with dough
then send them my way
where their money will flow.

I need buyers fast
so I can make a deposit
on my removalist account
I don't him to toss it.

The tickets are booked
but I still need the money
so I can get all my stuff
to NT with my honey.

So Mote it Be!
impromptu spell-poetry.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

When the Rent is due.

I'm feeling really nervous about the rent situation in NT. The rents are so stupidly expensive. A 2 bedroom unit costs around $350 a week. That's $700 a fortnight - that's $100 less than I pay A MONTH for my rent now. If Mojo's not working (and neither am I) that will leave us $800 a fortnight to cover everything else. Food, bills, petrol, school fees, debts... I don't know if we'll manage it. What's worse is that the waiting list for Dept Housing is 3 years.
I need to get back into study and renew my skills so I can get some work. I'm so out of touch with my workplace skills.

Anyway it's late, and I'm tired. So off to bed with me.
Got a lot on tomorrow.

The Ball Is Rolling

It's all happening, and I'm loving it.
All the family know now, of the move, and it just makes things so much easier.
I can actively pack and talk about my move now and it feels wonderful.

I'm booking my tickets tomorrow. SO EXCITING!!!! It means we're actually moving, and we're REALLY doing it in June.

I'm praying my car sells before the 1st June. I need to book my removalist ASAP so I can secure the date.

The Moving Sale has been organised for May 29th. I'm going to organise some advertising for that this week. I need to grab some more boxes too, for the Garage Sale. I don't have many tables so I'll have to use the book-case, TV Unit, coffee tables, and Dining Table as displays for the other stuff.

I just cannot wait to touch Mojo again. The though of that first hug gives me tingles.

Friday, May 7, 2010

An insecure storm

I'm feeling horribly insecure at the moment. I guess it's all the talk of strippers. ALL THE TIME. How the fuck can I compete with that??? How can I expect a man to be happy coming home to this when he's been out looking at that. Strippers are strippers because men love looking at them practically naked.
I don't know how to deal with that. I don't know how to be feel secure with that. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to poop on his parade, I'm happy for him to be out and about and enjoying himself. I just don't know how to be naked around him after his eyes have been bombarded with actual beauty.

I don't want to be disappointing. I remember Mojo told me once that Guys like to have things that their peers will be envious of. Let's be honest here, no one would envy Mojo for having me. I'm not sexy or sensual. I'm to horrified of myself to go out. I don't dance.

And maybe I've just been here too long and let myself get used to feeling like crap. And maybe I let Father's comments get to me, about how he didn't know if my weight effected my relationship but it probably did. And maybe I've just let all the talk of eating differently and getting fit and doing stuff get to me; like it's some underhanded way of telling me to stop being so damn fat all the time.

I don't know.