Getting Over It

I think I could end your life and not regret it tomorrow.
It would be easier than missing you every day.
My hatred for you hurts in places I didn't know I had,
Because I love(d) you just as much.
One year apart is not nearly enough
To forget the sound of your voice.
I would put galaxies between us,
If I could,
I would reshape history and erase you from it,
Like a misspelled word or a poorly drawn face.
I want to open the window of my soul,
And empty you out of it, completely
Air out all the mildew and charred remains,
The sunshine finally touching all of my cold veins.
But you clog my arteries and synapses,
You take up space in my memory.
You won't let me let you go, like
Your existence depends on me.

Absence So Strong

Sometimes I feel like my heart is breaking
Aching, taking out my pain on me.
Sometimes I can't abide the missing of you,
Wishing of you, your absence so strong in me.
Tremulous memories of you like a breeze of blades,
Shades over everything I know to be true of you.

 I think this pretty much sums up how I've been feeling lately, about multiple people.  I definitely tend to have rose-colored hindsight, and romanticize relationships/friendships gone past.
I tend to selectively remember only the good, the lovely, the reasons I loved them, not the reasons I left them.

Sometimes I miss people that have no right to be in my life. Sometimes I miss people that I've outgrown. Sometimes I miss people that have redeemed themselves, but have outlived their place in my life.  Sometimes I just miss people, good-hearted people, that I've lost contact with.

What's hard for me is and always has been knowing who gets to stay and who needs to be left behind.
 A big part of that has to do with my own self-respect, and recognizing what I shouldn't stand for.
I've gotten better at it over the years, thank God.

But sometimes what's best for me isn't always the thing I want. Sometimes, the best thing is the hardest. Sometimes the best thing means letting go of someone I've grown dependent on, or worse, letting go of someone genuinely beloved.
And that's heart breaking, because I do still love many of the people that have been phased out of my life, and probably always will, for the rest of my life.  Some have gone merely because we have gotten older, but I know that I can always count on them to be there, one quick text away.  And that's reassuring, because I know that these people deserve to be in my life, because they have always been there for me, giving and loving.  But some have gone because of specific choices that they or I have made, and choices that have become permanent.

The hard part is recognizing that it's a good thing.

Because sometimes all I want is someone that is bad for me.

Learning to Walk Again

I realize that it's been about eight billion years since I've posted.

Between a massive falling out with one of the most beloved people in my life, excruciating self discovery and loathing, life has been massively chaotic lately, and I didn't want to post all my melodrama and come across and a mega whiner.
So, after taking a few months to recover and heal and come to terms with stuff, I'm back!

That said, I have happy news!

I'M BEAUTIFUL.

That's right.

Thanks to The Nearsighted Owl and several other fat positive blogs, I can totally look at all my chub and go, "Ya know what? Sexy."

 Look at that.  That's not so bad.  I mean, it's not THIS:

[Source]
Original source unknown; found on Pinterest.

I mean, oh my GOD. Look at that. Holy shit, dude.

But still.  Here's my little corner of inspiration and encouragement in a world of bony women.

[Source]

This blog post was titled Learning to Walk Again because that's what I've had to do these last few months.  Pick up the pieces of a broken heart, a broken ego and a somewhat broken mind and keep walking.  Stay tuned to see how it's been turning out.
<3-Rhy

Confessions from the Neurotic

Hello, all.

So, I've been attempting to maintain my workouts, and be at least a little active every day. My friend Courtney and I are doing cardio during the week, every day but Wednesday (which is swing dancing!).
She makes me do these things called "fartlets" (?!). Basically, you walk the straight part of the track, and jog around the bends. We do these for 30 minutes to an hour, depending on how lazy I am.
To be honest, I don't see any difference in my body at all. Like, I've even gained weight.
Probably because The Boy and I haven't been able to afford to eat super healthy lately, and it's really hard for me to say no to second helpings when he asks for more.

I do the best where I can, though. We only have soy milk in the house, and turkey bacon, and I use plain greek yogurt instead of sour cream. I do what I can with what I have.

But you know what?
I'm trying to accept myself for where I'm at.

I went shopping yesterday, and could not fit into the dresses at Forever 21. My own dress that I was wearing was a (snug) Medium, but their Large didn't even come CLOSE to fitting.
But this time, I didn't cry. So I was disappointed, because their clothes are so damn adorable
But they are made for a type of body that I don't have.

That doesn't mean I have "the wrong body." It just means I need to go somewhere else for equally adorbs clothes that fit me. I'm trying to tell myself that it doesn't matter what the size on the tag says, as long as it fits and looks good on me.

Because you know what?
Every single person in my life, that I love, think I am beautiful and smoking hot.  Two hundred pounds or not.
And if they think I'm fantastic, why shouldn't I?

So yes, I'm continuing with my workouts. And yes, I'm eating healthy where I can, and should probably cut down on my portions (and the amount of butter I put in my mashed potatoes, yikes), just for the sake of my health.

But I'm not going to beat myself up and make myself feel like shit in the meantime.
Because I have better ways to spend my time than being totally miserable.

[Source]

I'm Dying!

...My Hair!
Bet that got your attention, didn't it?
Just messin' with you. Okay, so for the past several days, my hair has gotten a hardcore facelift. One might say a HAIRlift....teehee.
Okay, so first, I got it cut.

Then, I dyed part of it purple!

Yes, I promise that it's actually purple, not blue.
Then, the fun REALLY began!

 And finally, the obligatory cat lady picture:

I love it so much! I finally got my hair to dye the colors I've always wanted!!

Used: Special Effects Atomic Pink and Punky Colors Violet.

Fear

Things that terrify me, in no particular order:

• Toddlers in heels/lipstick/makeup. Come on people, stop sexualizing your six year old. It's scary as hell, and kind of inappropriate.  No anecdote for why, it just creeps me the hell out.

[Source]

• Birds. They scare the ever-loving bejesus out of me.  Once, when I was very small, a goose bit me in the stomach, and then chased me. I've also been bitten by pigeons, chased and attacked by a swan, and chased by chickens.  I don't enjoy birds.

For good reason too!
 [Source]

• People on the bus. Not that there is anything wrong with them as individuals, but I've had people on the bus say some pretty terrifying things to me.  Like this one dude spend like five minutes telling me how beautiful I am, then asking if I can sing/model because he was a "modelling agent." Hah. I wanted to say, "Dude, I have a friend that is a model. Modelling agents DON'T hang out in dirty sneakers and ratty polo shirts at bus stops, and they DON'T speak Ebonics. Go find some other gullible white girl."

• Hobos. Not because they are hobos, but because I have serious social anxiety and an inability to say no.   The other day, this woman (hobo status unknown) came up to me with her crazy eye (which were legit crazy, not being rude) and asked me for two quarters. I don't carry cash so I told her no. Then ten minutes later she came back, asked AGAIN, and when I repeated myself she said, and I quote, "Every one is dead because of you, you fat ass son of a mumble mumble..." as she walked off. Ruined my day.

Except this guy. I would give this guy all my money. [Source]

• Having kids. This is a biggie. Not because I don't like kids in particular, but for several other multi-faceted reasons. I'm terrified of what it will do to my body (stretch marks, even BIGGER boobs, etc) and the fact that I think I will be a terrible mom.  Plus, women in my family tend to gain like 60-80 pounds (!!) during their pregnancy. 80 pounds for a 6 pound baby?? That's nuts. And I know for a FACT that my skin is not elastic, as I ALREADY have stretch marks from weight gain. Call me selfish, but I'm just not ready to devastate my body in order to bring a screaming poop machine that will turn into a screaming teenager into the world.  I'm not sure when I will be, but definitely not before I turn thirty.

This is birth control. [Source]

Confessions from the Neurotic

As covered by my last post, I am about the most neurotic person ever. Hence the title of this little series.
But yesterday, was especially hard for me.
Nick, Alex and I went out on the town, mostly searching for a place that would cut my hair for under $30.
We headed to the mall, grabbed some lunch, and I convinced the boys to let me scurry over to Forever 21, in hopes of finding a cute dress for swing dancing in on Wednesday.

I wound up not buying anything because of my Buyer's Guilt (which is an entirely different issue), but later that night went on to search for dresses online.
I looked through Dorothy Perkins, Modcloth, Shabby Apple, Asos, Romwe, all the super cute places that my enamored bloggers buy their adorable duds.
And guess what I found out.
Apparently, according to these websites, my measurements mean that I range anywhere from a 1X to a 2X. What the fuck is that??

I've never been bigger than a size 14, and am currently sitting at a relatively decent size 12 in the jeans department (depending on the jean).
But a XXL?? REALLY??

How about that for total ego annihilation? Dude, I think I'm pretty fat but jeez.

So, I cried my face off, naturally.

Not just because I literally can't wear what I would like to, but because it's not for a lack of trying.
I work out.
I eat as healthy as I can, considering I'm not a vegetarian and I can't afford to be (not that I would really want to, I love meat).

After talking to Holly and The Boy about it, I felt a little better.
When Holly comes down in 18 days (!), she and I are going to Forever 21 and I am GOING to find a dress, dammit.
And I promise that I will not cry.

Hypothetical Readers, do you have debilitating body images issues too, or are you right on with the body acceptance movement?

Rhya

Edit:
So right (literally RIGHT) after writing this blog, I farted around pinterest and found a new blog. And several pages in, I found this video.