I Was That Girl

We went to Disney World on Monday. I have a friend who works there, and he got us in free. And…it wasn’t worth it. He has a new fiance. They’ve been together for 6 months or so, getting married in 3 weeks because she’s pregnant. I spent the whole day hearing about her infertility, gestational diabetes,  lupus, cancer, PCOS, fibromyalgia, chronic pain, and extreme social anxiety. None of which she’s been diagnosed with, but she researched them online and has all the symptoms. She’s 12 weeks pregnant, and was being pushed around on a wheelchair the whole time because she’s just “so big!”. Brad and I spent most the drive home trying to make ANY sense of anything she said.

Her and my friend also spent a large amount of time talking about not shopping at Target because of “everything going on”, abortion (I always pick Disney as a good place to have this conversation) God, judging others, etc. Brad and I said little, but certainly never agreed with them.

What finally did me in with her was when I was stumbling while I walked and she was like “well, I guess you can use the wheelchair” and I said no. She asked why, and I said because people like you judge. I don’t want to just be the fat girl who can’t walk. I don’t look broken, you can’t see basically dead spots in  my brain, and that my nerves are eaten all the hell. You got all pissy because you saw someone who didn’t look disabled come out of a handicapped bathroom stall, and I don’t feel like being judged today.

And with him…Disney has a policy not to let people over 14 wear Disney costumes. My friend went on the teacup ride with the boys, there were 6-8 girls on the ride. The girls were each dressed as a different princess. So, I watched as Belle, Jasmine, Alice, and Cinderella posed for their teacup selfie. I watched Ariel, Aurora, and Anna beg one of their mom’s to take one more photo. These girls were having a blast. They got out and Barb (the GF) says “they are too old for those costumes”. They were tall, I will give them that. But, they all looked very young. So, I said I thought she was wrong. She says maybe, but Belle is definitely older than the other girls. I say I’m not so sure, and even if she is, all her friends are dressed up, she wanted to too. So, phil (my friend) gets off the ride. He is made about these girls. He is going to report them, they are obviously older than 14. I’m still fairly certain they are 11-12. I tell him, if my 10 and 12 yr old walked through the front door holding any of these girls hands, I wouldn’t bat an eye. He’s going “look at them! They are not 12, they have boobs and hips and asses.” Now I’m mad. “Look up a little higher then! Their faces are kids’ faces! If you’d stop creeping at their boobs you’d see their faces and they can’t be older than 12.” and he’s still arguing with me. Brad is agreeing with me. Phil is like “12yr olds are not 5’7”. I’m almost shouting, yes they are! My 12 yr old has a 12 yr old female friend who makes me look like a 12 yr old. She’s closer to Brad’s height. And, she’s not the only friend who makes me look tiny when she’s here.

Phil finally says “they didn’t make 12 yr olds like that when I was 12”. And, I said “yes they did dumbass. Because I was that 12 yr old. I was the D cup who couldn’t fit her hips into anything smaller than a woman’s size 8. I had an hourglass figure at 12. And, I spent all of 6th, 7th, and 8th grades being told I wasn’t old enough to act/be treated like i was 16, but, if I did what my 12 yr old friends, who hadn’t hit puberty, did, I was inappropriate. And, it was bullshit.”

I didn’t say this, but I should have. And just because she makes your penis happy doesn’t mean she’s an adult, you are still responsible for yourself,so, your thoughts are on you. Don’t look at a 12 yr old you think is hot and say SHE’S the problem. When you would notice she is 12, if you just looked at her. As a person. You are the problem here. Because we looked over and saw a child playing dress up and having a fun day with friends and their moms, you looked over and saw boobs and said she was inappropriate. These little girls had on knee length dresses, they had no cleavage showing, they had on Converse high tops, and you looked over and sexualized them and saw adults where there were none because placing the blame on these little girls makes YOU feel better about yourself.

He finally threw up his hands and went “well, i guess I hit a sore spot, I just think the rules need to be enforced and 12 yr olds aren’t your height.” And, I stopped, because I was honestly furious. And…I’ve been this tall since I was 11, but short of calling my parents, I couldn’t prove it. And they’d be on Phil’s side anyway, because men can’t control themselves, so, women need to be modest and chaste.

I’m a Klutz

  
Isn’t this a pretty spot? 

About 3 seconds after snapping this photo, I leaned down to touch the water, got too close to the edge and found myself on algae covered rocks. Down I went. My hand stared to swell immediately. Everything hurt. I fell hard. My pants and shoes were soaked. This was the beginning of the hike. Went ahead and finished the 1.5 miles to the big waterfall and then back out. 

  
If you look closely you can see my hand bandaged up behind Brad’s back. 

Three hours of waiting at “urgent” care, just to find out I sprained my thumb and wrist and jammed everything. I’m not entirely certain there isn’t something more wrong (maybe a cracked tailbone, Brad said he heard me hit that slab of granite) but, I just wanted to get out. Plus they acted like I was just trying to get pain killers (I wasn’t), so I didn’t want to keep saying things that hurt. 

I hurt so bad. 

It was a long weekend. Friday was soccer practice. While the kids practiced my ex-husband called, asking if he could come down for their game and sleep in the spare room. Their game was in 13 hrs. It’s an 11 HR drive. I said sure. 

I had wanted to go hiking Sat. After soccer. He didn’t know this. He was bringing his gf, and he said “do you guys have plans? Or can I take the kids hiking? Gf would like to see a waterfall.” I told him we planned to hike, the place had a waterfall, they could tag along. 

Everything went according to plan until I fell. 

He took the kids home, Brad took me for X-rays, we told x “if youve got the kids, you do dinner, we’re going to the movies afterwards” he said ok, they’d get pizza. 

I spent so long in the waiting room, then we needed to eat, that we missed the movie. We came home, everybody was asleep. Ex and gf left to go home at 9 this morning. 

I have friends who think him staying here is weird, but it works. Basically, he comes down, gets to see the kids, we lock everybody in the basement for the weekend. We don’t really have to see him unless we want to. The basement is finished. The kids sleep down there already, so he does too, there is a tv and an Xbox, he generally orders pizza or takes them out. It works. It’s a bit weird, but it works. 

Slow Going

I won’t post a lot, but I want to post a couple pictures. I’m up 10 years and down 75 pounds in these pictures, and I’m proud. I don’t have many people that knew me back then left to see how far I’ve come, but here it is.  

     

  

Feeling Loved

Love is…him buying you the red leather journal and the black, because you asked for the black, not knowing there was red and he knows you like red best.

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Love is…thai food at 3pm on Valentine’s Day because he knows you don’t like crowds.

Love is…driving out of his way to get you Starbucks.

Love is…taking you to the golf course to make sure you’ll be happy walking around it before he gets a membership.

Love is…taking your car, and filling it up.

Love is…going to bed at 9pm, even though he’s a night owl.

Love is…starting a fire, tucking you in to your favorite chair, handing you a book and a glass of wine, then keeping the kids quiet for an hour.

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Love is…tying your shoes for you.

Love is…taking a progress photo everyday, because you want to see the weight loss, even if it seems like no one else can. (21 pounds since Christmas!)

Love is…sitting and watching you write out tomorrows to-do list in rainbow colors, and in order, and smiling while you do.

Love is…getting out of bed early to get your coffee going while you get dressed in the morning.

Love is…chasing you across the rope bridge at the top of the cliff, even though there is a sturdy stone bridge as well, and he’s afraid of heights.

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Love is…lying in bed, kissing on you, caressing, trying to put you in the mood and asking what you are thinking. And, when you say “I’m trying to decide if I have a good reason to ask you to stop, and I think that map of the US looks like a teapot without my glasses on” and he stops and laughs and tells you he can’t see it, point it out, then he holds you tight and tells you how much he loves you.

it becomes more and more apparent as I get older, that my love language is “acts of service” and he has worked very hard to learn my language and he speaks it very well. I know he adores me. He’s been saying it a lot lately.

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The Wrong Day

We celebrate Christmas on the wrong day. We have for years, and that made it easy when we wanted to move to GA. My ex-husband wanted Christmas Day. Ok, not a big deal for us.

It started because I have a little boy with terrible social anxiety, and all the Christmas stuff on that day was just really bad for him, he was always sick. We couldn’t convince anyone else to have their celebration on another day, so, we moved ours. Every year, we have it before the 25th. We wake up early, we do presents, we have a nice breakfast, the kids play with their new toys and then in the evening we do something fun. Previous years it has been go-karts, or a hockey game.

This year, we had our Christmas yesterday. We woke up early and did presents. We all climbed in our bed and watched the Grinch. Then Brad and I fell asleep again. When we got up, everyone got to enjoy their presents. I made a big breakfast. We had a nice lazy afternoon. Then, Brad got tickets online for Star Wars last night. We went to the theater, I dropped them off, and I went to target,  I bought a book, then I went across the street to Starbucks and read quietly for a couple hours. After the movie, I picked them up and we headed home. The kids were asleep just a couple miles in to the drive. We got home and everyone went to bed.

Everyone always apologizes to me when they find out I don’t have the kids for Christmas. But, honestly, I love OUR Christmas. I love that the gift stuff is over now, and we get to enjoy two more weeks of the holiday season without having to rush around to finish our mile long to do/shopping list. I like that when I need to get something from the store for the holiday, it’s still there. I like that now long lines aren’t really bothering me. I can go to the store, or not. Or I can go at midnight, or I can go to a store that just has groceries…and shorter lines. I like that we can go do that fun activity, because places are open. And, we don’t have to feel bad about contributing to making people work on the holiday. The rest of our holiday season is stress-free. We went out for lunch today, and the waitress asked if we were ready for Christmas. We didn’t figure we needed to give a long explanation, so, we just smiled and said “Yup, all ready” and she said “Wow! You are the only people I’ve asked who have said that.”

On the actual Christmas day, Brad and I will have our own tradition…we will wake up and turn on the Christmas parade, and we will undecorate the house. We’ll pack away ornaments while watching the parade. We’ll probably fall asleep on the living room floor, in front of the fireplace like every other year, but it may be too warm for a fire this time. And, maybe we’ll make new traditions. I’d like to go hiking, if we can. And, my in-laws invited us over for dinner. Christmas eve we were invited over to a friend’s house to eat junk food and watch Christmas movies. And, since we have no other plans, or things we must do, that means we actually do get to spend time enjoying our friends and family and not stress about it.

I’m at the point now, where if my ex offered me the actual holiday, I think i’d turn him down.

Not Completely Broken

I believe I’ve mentioned a couple times on here about how the MS has effected my sex life. My libido has been tanked. Most the time, I’d much rather sleep. If sex isn’t hurting it is because I’m completely numb and can’t feel anything. More than once Brad has decided to play with my breasts and about gotten punched in the face because it is so uncomfortable. He’s had me almost in tears from fingering me…And, he isn’t doing anything I didn’t used to enjoy!

The other day though, I was sitting at the kitchen table, and he walked around behind me. He kissed that curve where my neck meets my shoulder. And, I about slid out of the chair. Holy shit…I was getting turned on. This hasn’t happened in SO long. How have we not thought of this before? I know it isn’t the first time he’s done it. but, i guess he hasn’t done it in awhile.

Later that night we went to bed, and he started kissing and biting there again. It was working, again. Probably a little out of habit by now, he saw I wasn’t cringing and decided to hurry up before something went wrong. So, he fucked me, and it was good. I haven’t enjoyed this in so long, I can’t even begin to describe it. He finished, and got up to clean up. He was standing by the bed when he asked if I needed anything. I said “you, to get your ass back in bed. I’m not done.” He was pretty happy about this, because, seriously, I haven’t let him do anything for me, in months. We’ve had sex, but it’s been very focused on him and his pleasure, because I had, literally, no interest. When he tried to do anything for me, it was uncomfortable and just ended up irritating me.

So, he climbed back in bed, and he was careful, and slow, and was understandably unsure as to what I wanted, could handle. I finally said “Brad, I’m feeling really good right now. I’m enjoying the time with you. You do whatever you want. I’ll tell you if it isn’t working for me.”

You’d have thought I just told him we won the lottery. He got to playing…spent probably the next half hour, 45 minutes touching and playing and making me orgasm over and over again. He even did a couple new things, including one thing I loved, but never asked for, because I was so certain he’d never do it. I don’t think he would have, previously, but that night he was in to whatever he thought might make me moan.

I woke up the next morning with bite marks all down my neck and shoulders. And, very, very satisfied. But, the best part is, I’m still wanting sex and it’s been a couple days since that. He left for work yesterday, but he’ll be home tonight, and I want him. For the last…6 (?) months or so, the best I could do was wanting to want him. I missed wanting sex. This is nice.