Cake Wisdom

Water on the Shore

I am one of 25 people in a circle of grown men and women, sitting in a dimly lit room. This circle surrounds a table overrun with treats. There is candy, there are chips, there is soda. In the centre, there is a cheaply-made, cheaply-decorated grocery-store cake. 

I am celebrating with strangers. It’s Odessa’s ‘Cake Day’. I don’t know yet what these people will mean to me. All I know is that there is a gorgeous woman being honoured, and that this woman, despite being addicted to marijuana, has not smoked it for an entire year.

ImageI am a member of what is called an ‘after care’ group. Everyone in the room has a substance abuse problem, has completed a number of intensive sessions, and has committed to either abstinence or moderation. 

My first impression is general: They all look pretty normal. My second, more specific: I cannot believe this…

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P.D.A.

Oh look at the cute old couple! Snuggling and holding hands, that is so sweet! Awe, they’re kissing- oh no. God no! What is that?! Are they trying to eat each other’s faces? That looks like a vacuum!

We all get it. You’re madly in love with whoever this week. But it looks like your puking in each other’s mouths. Your not baby birds, don’t act like them. I know you guys have this deep, intense love for each other, but I definitely do not want to see it.

Sure you want to flaunt your obvious connection with your partner but I would much rather not see your tongue coming out of her nose.

What’s the deal with that anyways? Get a room.

I was at the mall, getting a pretzel, and I saw a couple sitting across from each other eating from opposite sides of a pretzel. It was kind of cute, but when their lips did make contact they began to share already chewed pieces of food, slobber and gum. Maybe I’m a bitch, but your happiness makes me want to puke, and your relationship makes me feel bad about myself.

So the next time your out on the town with your significant other, cut out the P.D.A.

That’s nasty. Seriously- nasty.

 

Body Image

Image

 

No matter how many times you’ve heard the phrase, “All men are created equal,” I’d like to tell you personally, that it is in fact an utter line of crap.

            Some of us are born smart, and others unfortunately are born without knowing how to spell their own names.

            Some of us came out of the womb, wadded up our own umbilical cord and kicked a perfect field goal. And others duck when playing pool.

            And all of our bodies were made differently. And I’m not trying to tell you that everyone was born perfect, because we definitely weren’t.

            But that’s what makes us beautiful. Sure my butt is a little big, but at least I can embrace it.

            Everybody is after this sick, hollow model look. No, you were not born that way, no one should be 6 foot and way 90 pounds. Eat, damn it! Eat I say!

            I am a human being and enjoy feeding my face. I’m not obese but I’m not a stick either. At times I feel self-conscious, but when I do I just think about really fat people. And I feel a lot better.

            I eat healthily, and I can run up a flight of stairs without suffering from cardiac arrest.

            And that’s alright with me. I’ll never fit into a size two jeans (unless it’s the  maternity section) and that is something that I can come to terms with.

            I have the body of a woman. I have curves where I’m supposed to have them, and some dimples in places I should not. But hey, if I want a candy bar I’m going to eat one.

            I’d rather be fat and happy than skinny and hungry.

           However, I didn’t always be able to say that. It’s taken me a long time to accept the way I look. After an eating disorder that almost took my life, I’ve slowly become able to eat normally again.

Sometimes I think about purging, sometimes I think about skipping just one meal, but then I remember how it feels to be so weak that you can’t even get out of bed. I remember how embaressing it was to pass out in the middle of my classes. I remember how worried my family and friends were, and I pick up that damn, delicious french fry and eat it.

I still have problems with my weight, my image, and my overall body, but I’ve slowly learned how to cope with it. And for once, I’m content with the way I am.

Being Overly Emotional

NO, I AM NOT ON MY PERIOD! And if anyone asked me that again, I will rip their heads off and eat their faces for breakfast. I’m pretty sure I’ve cried every day this week, for stupid reasons that I can’t even remember.

I think it’s healthy to have many different emotions, and the display of these emotions is completely up to you. But I have been the unwilling and embarrassed victim of  unnecessary and uncontrollable sobbing.

“Oh my god we’re having tator tots for lunch!” Then I burst into tears. Why? Please, if I knew I probably wouldn’t be blogging about it.

I’m usually not the person who cries all the time over things that aren’t worth crying over, but lately I definitely am.

There is always that one chick sobbing in the corner because her boyfriend didn’t kiss her goodbye.

Why am I so emotional lately? I am suddenly that chick. Hopefully I can stop being a baby and crying all the time, until then, thank you for your kind and awkward sympathy.

And, how did I know this was going to happen?

Welp, she’s gone. It’s been a good ole two months and she decided to move on. I guess it’s best, she had really sweaty hands. I wasn’t too attatched. It still sucks, though. I’d grown accustomed to her being around and now it feels awkward and empty. I’ve gotten over worse, I know. But it was just so unexpected. On the other hand, I’ve been talking to my ex-girlfriend Mad a lot lately. I think I might be making bad life choices.

So, there’s a new development for my family. Not only do I sing too loud and play my bongos in the middle of the night I’ve just come of the closet!

It’s taken a while for me to decide this, but after feeling this way for so long I figured they’d find out anyways. I’ve had secret girlfriends for years now, and I’ve just recently revealed that my ‘best friend’ is much more than just that. While my mom is sure that it’s just a phase and she doesn’t want me telling the family, I feel better. I feel free. After all of the things we’ve overcome as a family, with me being bipolar and suicidal, I feel like I’m finally being true to myself. It’s time to face it- I’m a queer. And, frankly, I don’t give a shit.

Paloma The Boston

Zombieeeee!Well, it is DAT time ob yeer again. Da time wen ghostiez & gobwinz wun fwee in search ob candy and skwapz ob bwainz. Az yoo can see, I make a tewwifying zombie howeberz, dis iz not mai offishul Halloween costoom. Mai offishul costoom iz a Mermaid….Yes, yoo weaded dat wight. A Mermaid. Why wud I furgo da escary Zombie wook fur a siwwy Mermaid yoo axe? Well, it’z all MOMMA’Z fawlt! Momma & Gwammie iz juss owt ob contwolz wif dat sewing masheen ob derz & dey totted dat I wud make a pwetty Mermaid. Dey iz wight, I iz a pwetty Mermaid ob course but I wanted to be sumfing ESCARY! Oh well…Mebbe next yeer. So now dat yooz all know wutt I iz gunna be fur Halloween why don’t yooz tell ME wutt YOO gunna beez? Post a pikkie ob yerself werrin yer costoom & I gunna…

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