Writing while vulnerable

This week was my turn to submit my work to be critiqued in writing class, which I attend once a week for a 3 hour evening. I told Of personal tragedy, made myself vulnerable again. I’m grateful that it was so well received. I got some overwhelming positive feedback, and of course a little bit of criticism-I am not, in fact a writer.

Everyone is sleeping. I should go to bed, I have to be early tomorrow and have a long day ahead. However, I’m still on a little high from awesome today went and I think I’ll just take a bath while reading the feedback from my peers.

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Hotel Rooms Alone

 

This hotel room feels like a big empty space within a solid object, one of the definitions of cavity.

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I’m on the 9th floor of the tower of this casino hotel. I have a view of another casino hotel directly across from me.  Between is a fake lazy river (really just a big pool), some cabanas and then the large parking lot of the other hotel.   Married At First Sight is on TV in the background, and Jaclyn seems super annoying, just as annoying as Ashley was from the Atlanta season.

There was a time when I loved an excuse to stay in a hotel.  I loved room service and watching a movie.   Sometimes I would sit in a cafe, buy an overpriced souvenir mug, check out the buffet.  The life that was exciting at 29 is not as exciting at (almost) 34.

Today I’m really feeling the emptiness.   I didn’t enjoy today’s work.  It was exhausting.  So much frustrating miscommunication.  It was just a contract job.  Thankfully I’m at the point where I have options and don’t have to accept working there again.  Unfortunately I still have another day in that office, fortunately it won’t be for another two weeks.

Now I’m sitting here all alone in a hotel room with no one to tell about it, and I really miss my bed and my baby. I texted my friend, starting to tell her about today, but then I decided I was too exhausted to talk about it.  So instead I texted her if I should watch the State of the Union.

Tonight, I’m homesick.

Skinny People and Me

Skinny people eating 1,2,3,…half a dozen Krispy Kreme glazed donuts

My scale not budging

My size 2 cousin on her second helping of desert, a slice of kunafa with the cheese oozing “mmmm this is my favorite”

Me cutting out food after 7PM and doing cardio every night.  Scale goes down half a pound after a week.

My sister with her Chinese take out.  She loves Chinese takeout almost as much as she loves Whataburger fries with gravy on the side.  The leftover boxes of fried lo mein noodles now a staple in my parents’ fridge.

Mew topping 200 pounds when I let it go and stop caring.

My sister weight like 100 pounds.

Inscrutable

Rosa Pazza: a wardrobe eulogy

There was a time when I could take pride in my fashion sense.  It’s true, I never had great posture and I was never skinny, but I used to have nice clothes.  Actually I still have pretty nice clothes.  They’re taking up lots of space in big closets.  Some of my favorites include a blue and white pin-striped Prada racer-inspired jacket. There’s a black and white button down Tory Burch blouse I scored at a Nordstrom anniversary sale.  There’s a whole collection of tunic tops. I definitely went through a tunic top phase, from solid colors to different kinds of animal prints. OF course, my maxi dresses, I love Maxi dresses!  Not all of these things are in my closet, some of them are now in other people’s closets.

The reason why I’m all of a sudden reminded, and even saddened, of my lost wardrobe is because of a topic that came up in writing class recently.  A student in the class courageously wrote about her battle with mental illness and seeking treatment in an institution.  She wrote that during this time it was important for her to not look like what her grandmother called a Rosa Pazza (Rose the crazy lady?), appear unkempt to the rest of the world.  So she made sure to always touch up her roots and apply minimal lipstick no matter what was going on on the inside our outside.   She’s always looked great to me!

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Well as we were reading this piece I started questioning whether I was the Rosa Pazza of the group.  I don’t buy clothes anymore because I haven’t accepted my new body size and I keep telling myself it’s just temporary.  I still wear maternity clothes, and at work I’m usually in scrubs, also maternity scrubs.

I just looked at myself with brown flannel pants really hoping that they don’t look like pajamas to everyone else.  I was also wearing a fleece top, it was tan and matched the pants at least.  A little too snug around my mid-section as most of my tops are. My bras are ill-fitting these days.  The straps don’t quite sit on my shoulder and I wonder how obvious it is.

I looked around at the other ladies.  The other lady close to my age works in the fashion industry, so she’s always dressed awesome.  Another lady was wearing just all black.  Another lady was wearing scrubs, came from work perhaps.  I was definitely the only one in flannel, that’s for sure.

Still waiting for tomorrow

Everyday I keep telling myself that tomorrow will be a new day. I’ll start fresh tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll make better choices. Tomorrow will be nothing like today.

Well tomorrow didn’t come today, that’s for sure. My daughter woke me up about 545 AM with her hysterics when my alarm doesn’t go off until 8. By the time we were settled I was too riled up to go back to bed. Although I tried really hard.

The office I was working at today was an hour away. I was annoyed. I Accepted a lower paying job on the grounds that it was easy, and that I would covering for an old friend. Well it wasn’t easy, and I feel taken advantage of.

I was exhausted and had a long drive home. That’s never a good combination. Before I knew it I was at my favorite pizza place ordering a hamburger pizza with extra cheese.

So yea……tomorrow didn’t come today

delete when famous: On Families

Sometimes family can suck, to be candid.  I tend to be pretty confident when going into a world of strangers such as the grocery store or Starbucks.  No issues at work, or writing class.  I can walk in like rockstar, I don’t care that I’m fat now.

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However I can have some major insecurity issues when it comes to large family gatherings.  Family can be really judgmental.  They’ll talk about how big your ass got, how your clothes are fitting bad, or your posture.  They’ll compare you to the other cousins, or to the trophy wives even-despite the fact that you actually have a list of lifetime achievements and accomplishments that don’t involve stuffing a turkey and spending most of your life being pregnant.  They don’t care, they’ll still talk about how you’re the fattest one.  They’ll talk about your husband….why didn’t he come? or if he did why is he not talking to anyone? or talking too much?

Of course, not all of my family is like that.  I have some awesome cousins I’m close friends with, and some aunts that I love more than others.  I’ve hosted many extended family members at my home and it’s been lots of fun. However, when it comes to large family gatherings, a mob-like mentality forms.  Little gangs form and each side tries to rip members of the other side down.  For females, the best way to do that is to pick on appearances.

The reason why I’m bringing this up now is because this is definitely a year of gatherings.  I will literally be attending an event in 3 of 4  corners of the country.  I should be excited, and I am excited about seeing some people, but as a whole I’m also feeling a little stressed about it all.   The first is in less 3 weeks.  I was hoping to have lost a few pounds by now and fit in this dress that I have that’s super snug…….