Fly on my wall...

Four candles, two flanking each side of me. All other lights are off. I have my radio playing as I light each wick. I start my usual night-time, pre-shower dance; one that I've always done on the other side of the room, away from my reflection. My hips sway, awkwardly at first. My fingertips find the button and zipper of my jeans, and I quickly release them. As my palms push the fabric down, the silkiness of my top meets my upper thighs. I shimmy out of my jeans, stealing a look at my toes.

hmm... I should've given myself a pedicure...

I look back at my face as I stand up. Then quickly skim down to look at my exposed legs.

If this tunic were just an inch or two longer, I could wear it as a dress.

I can barely make out some of my more favorite birthmarks. My freckles and childhood scars are hidden by the lack of direct light. My tattoo stands bright against my pale skin. My strong calves flex as I turn, showing off the soft, feminine curves of my legs.

I continue to dance, slowly lifting and lowering the edge of my tunic. I run my hands through my hair and let them float down my body. They cross at my waist, each hand grasping at the loose fabric. I look at my face, and notice I am nervously biting my lip. I dreamily close my eyes and sweep the top off of me. My eyes open, and immediately gaze at the tunic as I let it drop to the floor. I stand, in nothing more than undergarments.

Just breathe.

I gaze at my face, the familiar span of skin I see every day. The eyes that never lie, even when I try. The lips that convey my passions, both verbal and non-verbal. My face was always the part people would compliment me on, especially when I was larger. "She has such a pretty face..." Few ever finished the thought verbally.

Just breathe. Focus on the music, when it becomes too much.

I slip my gaze down a few inches, seeing the hollow of my neck as I straighten my stance. The roundness of my face gave way to angles of my bone structure. I note that my face shape is no longer simply an oval, but a mix of heart, square and oval. I take a deep breath and see something new. My hands instinctively rise to meet the bones I've never seen beneath my skin- my clavicle. My right arm rises and I flex it. I see that I still have a bit of muscle to my bicep, and realize a saddening fact. My young skin was stretched too far in my heavier days. Loose skin will be a problem, hiding some of my future accomplishments. But that's ok, for two reasons: it will keep vanity in check, and I can do good by donating the excess.

I stare at my chest, and giggle at my choice of bra. Leopard print, and push up. I remember when my breasts were fuller, and turn in profile for a moment. A full cup lost, but that's ok. It's what's beneath the skin that counts; my heart.
Just breathe.
My stomach. It still has a fullness to it, but much smaller than in years past. I can see how my body is bringing it in, slight curves at the edges of where my abs hide beneath the softness of my belly. The half-moon scar from my surgery blushes as I trace the almost hidden line. My hands roam my natural waist and ribs. Perhaps a few more months, and increased reps of sit-ups. I smile as I think of one day wearing a bikini. For a moment, I imagine my hands as not mine, but those of a lover. I let them run over the exposed skin, from shoulders to thighs and back again, memorizing the sensations and newness to my body. I turn to view my back and am pleasantly surprised to see it smoothing. I imagine where my next tattoo is likely to rest, the blank canvas of my skin begging to be inked. I turn to face myself and step toward the mirror.
I look into the eyes that never lie, and quietly whisper... "Hello, Beautiful."

Confessions and promises

A year ago, I had gastric bypass.


I had tried almost every diet, was classified as fit, but was obese. Most times, I would lose up to twenty pounds, only to gain it back. I had to do something drastic, something to literally ‘reset’ my system. I opted for bypass versus lap band because, at our current understanding of the two, it is IMPOSSIBLE to develop diabetes when your anatomy has been reworked (bypass), versus normal absorption of food (lap band). If I never lost a pound, I would be overjoyed that the misery my mother had with her diabetes would never be a shared experience. Two days after her surgery, she was completely off all diabetic medications. Though her neuropathy is still present, it will not get worse.

The x-rays, 15 tubes of blood drawn, breathing tests, cardiac scans, required psychological evaluation and counseling were nothing. I drug my feet when they took my “before” weight. The scale… it was a giant metal disc, used to measure cattle weights. I barely qualified.
When I awoke from surgery, it was a short success. My family took vigil for the first day, doping me on morphine to keep me asleep. I had to have two more surgeries because of complications- the outlet for my new stomach was too small and had to be opened up a bit each time. The promise of weight loss was icing on the cake, though not being able to tolerate even water for a week did drop quite a bit.

It was not my holy grail, but a tool to help me get healthier and avoid a path I seemed doomed to walk. My diet changed slightly; my tastes changed a bit more. I had to cut out tomatoes… OMG, I miss them. But my tummy gets so angry when I have raw ones. I can eat almost anything now, just in smaller quantities. I crave the foods my body needs. When I get stressed, I want meat. I eat more NOW then I did before. I consume more calories and more fat now and lose weight. Talk about confusing. Though, I admit... I need to tone and exercise more. I think it would be great to rock a bikini next year. For now, I try to not draw much attention, as I am not accustomed to it.

So soon, soon I will look at my body as a whole… and will share it. Until then, I will work on my writing projects and sneak in some stretches.

How much?!?

Money. It makes the world go 'round. It buys the pretty things we crave, the food we eat, and the shelter we seek. If we make not enough, we strangle every penny. I've lived at both extremes, the former causing the latter. Yet, in both, I've always had a problem spending it on myself. Especially when it comes to things that I have developed expectations on.
When I buy food, I expect it to be palatable. Clothes, I expect to be sturdy enough to last. The price I pay is rarely the true worth, as I usually try to bargain shop.
My highest expectations stem from my belief that there should be no price tag for the thing that is bugging me. Education.
Nowadays, with all the technology and ease of information transfer, learning should not be so expensive. Why did I (or in truth, mostly my parents) pay so much for a piece of paper that I have not even bothered to frame and hang? It's not guilded in gold, or carved into the ivory tusk of a mammoth. Yet for the same price, it could have been. This piece of paper was supposed to open doors and net me a higher paying job. It's done neither.
I took two classes through work, simply because I knew I would never see a bill. I tried to be more social, but my classmates found the work so hard, or their lives too busy to schedule study times. I did my work, and collected my grades. Passing them was supposed to guarantee benefits in work I have yet to see. Though it did help me in personal matters-as in contract law.
My opinion is that education should not carry the hefty price tag that it does. If you're smart enough to take the classes, you should be able to without taking out loans. The price for college should be adjusted to accomodate the minimum wage.  Or vice versa. Too often are people graduating with the hope of a large paycheck to pay off their loans, and are stuck in lower paying jobs. Or bright people who didn't get formal education, are denied advancement because of a lack of a piece of paper.
I feel like I am in a massive casino, gambling more money in hopes of a big payoff. And I partially refuse to pay the tens of thousands if they can't give me some sort of guarantee.
Yes, my expectations are high. It's not like I can return a faulty education. If they can't open the doors, why should I open my checkbook?

I will name him Squishy, and he will be my Squishy...

I'm playing mad scientist today. Be afraid... for instead of Frankenstein.... I am creating an amazing person (and stealing stuff to enhance myself). I just need all the peeps from my list on the right. Muwahahaha... cough... cough. I'll try not to embarass any of you.

• Febtober: I'm yanking your voicebox and tweaking it a little. I find it hilarious when people refer to your vocal range as "the brown note".  Also, the part of your brain that knows Chinese so I can have my dinner ordered properly. Ears too, because you ask me to sing for ya. Oh, and your "faulty engineered" (double jointed) thumbs. I think it is so cool, but dislike that it enables you to beat me at every video game!
• Spazette: I'm stealing your chest and putting it on myself. I'm borrowing your ability to invite yourself to friends' events.
• Itty Bit: Your sense of wonder at the world. Ah, to be new(er) to the world.
• Three: Your ability to draw the stuff I describe, your ability to find whatever I lost in nanoseconds, your lack of fear in playing paintball against our Sniper Brother.
• Spaz: Your ability to keep secrets (for myself), your 'come what may' attitude, your ability to hang with us girls in HS and take all the shit the guys gave you.
• Dawg: Your car buddies, lol. Your secret desire to be one of the girls and gossip with us, your willingness to eat all the leftover cake just in case my feelings would be hurt if you didn't (cute, but not needed).
• Monkey: Remember going on vacation? The way you felt when you saw the Castle... I'm copying that. I'm stealing your ability to tell my sister 'no'.
• Irish: Your knowledge of chemisty. (That reminds me, I have a video to re-find and send you). The way you look at Red (sooo cute), and the way you blend in to whatever group you're in.
• Two: I'm taking your hair for myself. I'm gifting your desire to be around me, even when I am cranky. Your willingness to try whatever weird restaurant I find, to embarass you in public on your birthday, and your awesome hugs.
• Mr THS: Your dance moves, your comedic nature, all of your family's recipes (for my eventual cookbook).
• Penguin: (Suffice to say, you raised my bar) Your knowlege of the stuff we have in common, the lightening bolt thing, some physical attributes, your calming effect, the secrets you just seem to know or weasel out of me.
• Baby: Your patience, your 'mini-zoo', your sweetness, your blackmail knowledge of me, your DIY skills, your ability to make friends anywhere.
• Red: Your ability to juggle so much, your staying power as my bud, your ability to crawl in my head (along with the above 2... dang you!), the fact that I 'amuse' you, not embarass, and your ability to push me when I need it.

After I build an appropriate body, and transfer the brain, the wedding announcements will go out. Hey, I took all that time to mesh my fave bits of ya, why not?  LOL

Can you see what I see?

A good 95% of the time, my mixed up wiring sees this world in a never-ending slideshow of images that are not necessarily right in front of me. So today, I closed my eyes, thinking of the last couple weeks.  Enjoy!