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Post 200 and time for a new name……

3 Sep

This is my 200th post!  I can’t belive I’ve written so much and I love to look back at how this weird wonderful love story has unfolded.  I started out sad and stuck but full of excitement and lust for this man who is unlike anyone I’d ever met.  I was torn, knowing what I was doing was wrong by my standards.  Torn about whether my relationship with Dick was worth saving or it was just too toxic to exist.  I look back and I can see my lust and curiosity with Tom turned into caring and loving.  My desire to have him in my life changed from a rescue me with your solid hard working sweet ways to knowing I don’t have to be saved that he will enhance the life I will build on my own. 

I plan to write more, once I can access my home PC or buy a lap top (Dick password protected the home PC and now I cannot log on).  I’ve been trying to be more focused at work however now I have a bunch of side things to do with courts, bills and child care.  So my writing and reading time is low but I intend to come back and write more because I love being able to look back and see how things have changed.  To read how I’ve felt about Tom and myself and even Dick.   

So now I’m not torn.  I feel sure of my path whether it is with Tom or not I need to build a good life for my kids, my dogs and I without Dick.  I will have some set backs and confusion but I won’t feel torn like I did when I started this blog.  I’m thinking I need a new name.  I was hoping to get a fw comments with suggestions.  I have not yet put any thought into it other than my name no longer fits my situation.

Might as well be tattooed on my face…..

10 Apr

I’ve been quiet lately because I’ve felt like I’m just running in circles.  Sad, hopeful, hopeless, angry, sad…nothing changing…even worse nothing sexy happening.  It all seemed to redundant to write about.  Honestly whether you comment or not I feel like you all know me. Everyone that has given me their opinion, that I totally appreciate and am humbled that you’ve taken the time to read my life and comment, is seeing that I’d be better off without my fiancé. My distress seems to be oozing out of me.  I mentioned before that my boss told me in my review he’s behind me if I need to take a week or so off to set up child care and he would be flexible going forward if I need to take time off for the boys.  My mom and dad are always asking how I’m doing. 

We spent Easter afternoon at my moms house.  After dinner everyone was lounging arround at different areas of the house.   I wandered into the game room and was setting up a game of pool.  My step-sister came in and asked how I was doing.  I glossed over that I’m filing bankruptcy and that I’m trying to get my shit together.  Some how we started talking about my fiancé, she asked why I stay with him.  She told me that when the family gets together and I’m not there they talk about how to get me away from him.  That they would all help, I could stay in one of the two houses the family has as rentals and everyone would love watching the kids and helping me in anyway I need.  She talked to me like I was such a good normal person, I reminded her I’m not like everyone else.  I’m still a bit of trouble.  I couldn’t find a nice husband like she has now, he’d be scared of me.  She said that he likes me a lot and he also can’t see why I stay with my fiancé. 

She told me about leaving her first husband (they married when I was 18 and my fiancé and I were both at the wedding) she had an infant and only made $15k per year.  She didn’t take state assistance because the idea made her uncomfortable.  Her family helped, my family helped…her son is heathy happy and well adjusted.  Her ex never looked back, no child support, no visits he just disappeared. 

It was really touching to coming from her.  I’ve always been a wild child and she was always a bit more for lack of a better word “preppy”.  We weren’t close, sometimes even at odds.  I wasn’t one of the family that was there for her when she needed support.  I was too busy fucking off.  While we talked there were some tears and lots of hugs.  I was left with the feeling that I can do this, I have to do this and everyone knows it and is ready to help.

Can things change?….

19 Feb

We’ve started to open up a little.  He says we’ve got a bond in blood and he wants to keep our family together.  He says I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him and he loves me with all of his heart.  That I’m sexy, smart and amazing.

He knows I’m not happy and I want him to do more.  He sees that I’m sad, disconnected and stressed.  We discussed again that I need his help and not that I want him to do what he is unable to do but I want him to do what he can.  

 He keeps getting stuck on that I want him to work and don’t care about his injury.  I remind him I just want him to contribute. Whether he can find a job that can suit his physical limitations, get disability, start an E-bay store or find a work at home prospect anything that shows he is trying will help.  I remind him that I’m ticked off more because even before he was injured he wouldn’t look for a night job as his unemployment ran out.

We started talking about how he makes me feel.  That when I leave the house at night that I need to be in frequent contact with him.  He tells me how do I know you’re not whoring arround.  Sticky question for me now, right?  I tell him that all these years I’ve been faithful that shouldn’t that earn me the freedom not to have to talk to him every hour. I don’t ask that from him.  This opened the door for him to bring up my youth.  Telling me that I whored arround with 60 men before I was 17 and that I fucked a guy I knew for a week after we broke up.  Both of which were wrong (I had just wrote a bit about it in this post).  It also made me think of another post I need to write but I’ll save that for another time.

We got past that and went into name calling.  Recently at a dinner where well he was being less than desirable dinner company he complained that he is always the last person eating.  He has said a couple of things about himself in the recent past that he has a small mouth and a large gut, not both in the same sentence but he has said it.  So, my smart ass said he’s the last one to finish his meal it might be because of his small mouth and large gut he was terribly offended. Looking back I understand and feel bad about it (I’m far from perfect).  So we were talking about how he was calling me a cunt and fucking bitch when he was yelling at me the other day and he compared it to when I said the small mouth large gut thing.  It took a good 15 minutes to help him understand the difference between using words that have no other purpose than to hurt some one than using something that is off color but could be taken in stride since it’s something you’ve said about yourself.  Again I apologised and said it was wrong of me to have said what I said.  I think he said he was sorry too, he said he just gets so angry and that is the only way he can express himself.

Then he went into how the young me would be very disappointed in the current me.  To which I had to disagree. I’ve always been ambitious and resourceful.  If you think about the young me, doing drugs, stealing cars and stuff, working in the mall, my plan for the future was to rob a few banks and move to Canada, then yes the old me would be like, “Why are you working for the man and there is way too little sex, drugs and rock and roll going on here.”.  I told him I’m proud of myself and I wish you would be too.  He tells me there is nothing he would change. He is so happy to have the boys.  I ask are you proud of yourself and he goes, “Yes, I’m not a crack head, I’ve never been locked up, I’m not homeless, I don’t beat you or the kids we have our own house and great boys.”  Good lord he has succeeded because he’s not a crack head.  I guess I should have seen this coming but when you’re aspirations are to rob banks and move to Canada (pronounced by us as Can-a-Duh-Duh-Duh) not being homeless or in jail is pretty awesome.

The people from pain management had him see a counselor.  Where he told them that his injury and pain was effecting our relationship.  The big box healthcare provided offered him meds which he declined since he takes maybe 10 or so different kinds of medication a day he didn’t want to risk a bad chemical reaction.  He told me how miserable he is.  How he has thought of killing himself though he would never do it.  That the words I said to him ring in his ears, how I can’t see a good life with him but I can’t imagine a life without him and that he doesn’t do it for me any more. 

I was as encouraging as I could be.  We talked about going to counseling.  He wants to try to do better.  I remind him that I don’t expect it to all happen at once but I need to see that he’s trying.  That he cares about making things better together and he’s nice to me and the boys.  Now I need to find a counselor that I can afford and line up child care for when we go.

Sexuality rant….

2 Feb

Sometimes I wonder if society’s mores have stifled me as a sexually charged person.  The have forced part of me to exist in the shadows and made me inclined to feel ashamed of what I enjoy doing.  I think back and the curvey body I developed early had my class mates being demeaning to me early on.  Though I had had one kiss and one “boyfriend” by 7th grade I was called a whore and a slut.  There was no way for them to know but I’d already started coming in to my sexuality looking at Playboys and Hustler mags at the family’s home where I babysat after the children had gone to sleep.  Masturbating with the shower massager at home when no one was around. 

When I chose a less than romantic way to be deflowerd it didn’t seem to me like such a big deal.  I already had a reputation.  A few more encounters and I was able to find extreme pleasure being with another person.  Even though sex was a regular part of my life I didn’t talk about it with anyone, anyone at all. I guess I should say outside of the people at the womans clinic.  I went often to get checked and to get birth control.  My mother never knew. 

My fiancé and I met in school.  We had been together a whole year before I chose to pursue him.  I was falling out of lust with a 25 year old man I was seeing at the time I was 17. I got my future finances attention by inviting him to cut school and smoke weed.  We waited an entire week before making love.  I surprised him, I don’t remember how it started but I do remember pinning him down and riding him until I came.  He hadn’t been with someone so forward with their own pleasure before. 

After being together for a while he found my vibrator I had bought it when I was 15.  I walked down to the Adult Book store on the outskirts of town and bought it cash.  I was so embarrassed when he found it.  Again why should someone be shy about fulfilling their sexual needs?  Not to long after he found my diary.  It had accounts of my adventures sexual and otherwise.  The back the the list of all the 100 boys and men I’d kissed and the 30 I’d fucked.  He destroyed it while I was in the shower.  He was very unhappy that I had such a past.  I was very upset, to this day I’m upset about him destroying my memories bad or good they were mine and I wrote them for a reason.

I for a long time felt un-loveable.  That only the good girls deserved real love that I had to take what I could get.  Keeping my secrets to feel a little more normal.  When my future fiancé told me how disappointed he was, that I was a whore and the people I chose to sleep with were disgusting.  I took it hard.  Sure they weren’t the best of the best but I had found beauty in them and I enjoyed myself with them.  We moved forward but it still is something he will throw in my face when it suits him.  I’m just a whore.  A whore who was faithful to him always, until now.  My question to him is how dirty are you to stay with someone you think of like that.

Would it all have gone differently if someone had told me wanting to have sex is normal and to choose wisely and be discreet but not ashamed? Was I destined to be different? Am I different or is everyone else hung up because that is what the group chooses is right for everyone?  When I tell any one about this that has young girls they are shocked.  Better to find out early and help than have to clean up later right?  I’m reading so many blogs that are exploring sexuality in many diffrent ways.  Thank you to all of you for putting your pleasure out there.

Boobies!….

28 Jan

I’ve been following the blog of Ms. Titty and she has recently posted a request us bloggers write about our experiences with boobies.  I would like to say right away I love boobies!  I’ve had big ones forever.  I’ve grown into them becoming a woman and a Mom so now they are not so outrageous.

The first time they caused a stir that was out of the ordinary was the summer that I graduated grade school.  I was turning 11 at the time.  My friends and I had gone to summer camp for a couple of weeks and it was right on the river.  It was the first day and I was wearing a modest one piece swimsuit.  I had never had attention from the boys I’m guessing because I was a little chunky and didn’t really dress in the most popular styles.  The girls I was with were used to having signficantly more attention than I.  The girls were already picking out which boys were cute.  They noticed most of the boys wanted to talk to me or were checking me out.  They equated that with my boobs that were definalty large possibly a C cup back then.  They proceeded to try to hold me under the water.  Not drown me or anything just keep my tits hidden. 

Another very boob centric part of my life and maybe a reason why I never thought much of the extra attention my big ol’ boobies drew as a problem was my relationship with my best friend and later on boyfriend in middle school and the beginning of highschool.  He was very tall and insightful beyond his years.  He wasn’t attractive in any normal sence of the word but there was something about him.  He was very interested in titties.  He would encourage me to free them and he made no passes at me and was never rude.  We spent a lot of time together and he truly valued me and respected me.  We got to a point we we argued about whether my titties were more than a handful he had really big hands and we disagreed on the definition of a handful.  He put his hand on my breast closed and showed how my tittie didnt come close to fitting in his cupped hand.  I had him spread his fingers and he could trap the whole thing in his big hands.  By then I think I was a 34D.  He talked about how titties should be free and I bought into the whole idea and for most of my sophomore year in highschool I ran around braless.  That attracted a lot of attention but it never bothered me and didn’t seem to get me into anymore trouble than I would get myself into anyway.

The bottom line for me is I’ve always liked them and if I didn’t want to attract attention to them I would cover them up and wear a bra that held them back a little.  Since I’m a bit thicker they are easier to conceal than on a tiny girl.  I’m now up to a 36DD (you should have seen them when I was pregnant!).

P.S.  I love boobies.  I try not to gawk like a guy but when I see a nice pair I just want to put my face in them.  When the bra’s are off it’s not the size of the boobies that count it’s the shape, for me anyway.

Pre-class jitters….

9 Oct

I fly out tomorrow.  This trip is sales training.  I’ve been so nervous about the last half of my trip I’ve completely forgotten to worry about the first half.  I’m gathering reports, following trends for opportunities and trying to think of how I can balance my sales approach.  By the way I’m not in sales.

My class list shows I’ll be with some experienced folks and I don’t want to make an ass out of myself.  Most of the people I work with are papered.  They have degrees, tons of experience and well, they dress really nice.  I always feel like I’m trying to sneak in.  Reality is no one knows and no one cares.  I wonder if I’ll ever stop feeling this way.

Way too much info, a long story made as short as possible…..

14 Sep

I think after all my blatherings you might be curious about how this came to be.  I feel like my problems now are due to my life of borderline dysfunction.  I know it could all be worse.  As I cry to my self thinking how could I have committed my family to this fate I think back on how I got here.

I was a wild kid, smoking and drinking by the age of 11.  I lost my virginity on a bet.  The bet wasn’t to me but to a kid who had a nice body and hair but not so much in the face.  All the boys called me a whore anyway so why not like have sex.  I told him I would do it if I got half the money and I did.  I was 12.  I ran around with the “bad” kids in the neighborhood.  Pulling runners for booze and selling and smoking weed.  By 13 I had done Acid and Shrooms for the first time.  I met boys and kissed them and the ones that got me hot I fucked. 

 My best friend at about 15 was this guy he was really tall but not good-looking.  He was very spiritual and thoughtful.  He had already gone through AA and told me that the age you start doing drugs is the age you get stuck at emotionally.  I kinda thought of him as my sage.  I really looked up to him.  Eventually he became my boyfriend.  I slept at his house one night, he lived in a room in the garage of his Moms house.  I tried to have sex with him and he wouldn’t saying he wanted it to be special that now was not the right time.  We ended up breaking up because he caught me kissing another guy.  He became a pro frisbee freestyler who owns a dental lab and takes time off to travel the world. 

My Mom tried to keep me close so I was not allowed to go with the good kids who were well off enough to go to vacation homes and sking for the weekend  so all my normal friends stopped talking to me.  I was just hanging out with the other kids who stole cars, did drugs and stayed out all night. 

By 17 I’d slept with 30 guys and kissed 100.  I kept it in my diary.  By 15 I was doing speed on occasion and Xtacy.  I think what kept me from really going off the deep end and getting stuck forever was I played tournament soft ball on a team that traveled since I was 12.  I loved the traveling and independence that came with being on the road.  I also worked at a store in the mall since I was 14.  I could party all I wanted but practice, games and work were important to me.  I had to be available to work.  Sometimes I worked when I was high but I made work a priority.  School was not a priority, it was a good place to meet up with friends and get drugs.

  I got myself kicked out of school at 16 and the continuation school I went to so I could keep my work permit is where I met my Fiance.  The first year I was there we didn’t talk much.  I had a boyfriend that was 28 and I was 16.  He was a couch hopping tweaker who hung out with the Hell’s Angels.  Thinking back he might have been older and was lying to me.  We broke up.  Then I started dating a 23-year-old cook that lived with his mother his sister sold weed at my old school.  He started to gross me out.  We broke up but not before he had me do a run for him.  I drove up to his tribes reservation and drove back with 3 pounds of weed in my 1965 Mustang.  All I got out of the deal was a Marlboro box full of weed.  So here I am, my Mom always pissed at me for running arround and doing drugs.  Dating and fucking deadbeats.  Everyone thinks I’m a fuck up, I’m skating by at work and soft ball.  My parents were sick of my shit.  

I decided I wanted to start hanging out with my future Fiance.  I lured him with weed.  We hung out often.  He worked at the same mall so we took lunch together often.  He was really close with his Mom and his 3 younger sisters.  His Dad had kicked him out of the house so he was renting a room, working and going to school.  He had no car so he was taking the bus to work and school.  I thought he has things together pretty well here.  He urged me to be better to my Mom.  He didn’t tolerate speed and was always very nice to me.  He did improve my relationship with my family.  After a year of dating his landlord kicked him out.  He slept on the couch at my Moms house for 3 months and we moved out together.  Shortly after his not paying half of the bills started to be a problem.  He kept me away from my friends.  We had a lot of fun.  We had parties all the time.  After a while we just blended together.  Our friends were the guys.  Being a hard partying chick I was one of the guys.  Concerts, camping, house partys and festivals.  We were baked all the time getting fucked up almost every night.  I got my current job about 11 years ago.  We’d party untill early in the morning I’d try to get at least 2 hours to shut my eyes before going to work.  There were nights where I would go lay down and wake up to the party still going on as I was leaving for the office.  Our best buddy was a coke dealer so we’d have piles of blow, we’d drink and get high all night.  Finally it caught up with me, the same thing over and over.  The partys were never classy we were seeing some people who were really strung out some times.  My fiancé was getting mean often.  One day I told him he needed to get it together or I was leaving.  So I left. 

 I footed the bills for about 3 months.  I lived with my dad who had also gone through a break up.  I started loosing weight.  Saving money.  Not doing blow.  Drinking a lot.  I was going to a dive bar with my step-sister often.  I had kinda a crush on one of her friends.  He was a big boy, fat even but cute.  I tried my best to get him to make a move and he didn’t.  I met a dude one day at dinner with my Dad he was the chef where we were eating.  He was a high-grade large-scale grower.  We made fast friends.  I had intended to just be friends but my dreamy ways romanticize him.  He went to a lot of concerts, was an avid hiker and camper, rode a motorcycle, lived in a beautiful area on top of a mountain, he traveled often and of course grew great weed.  After seeing him for a few weeks he invited me to Hawaii.  He said he would pay for the tickets I just needed to pitch in for the house.  Him and 2 of his buddys were going to play a frisbee golf tournament that they attend yearly.  He asked me over and over and said even if we break up he would still want me to go, so I agreed.  He turned out to be boring.  He was good at oral but had trouble keeping it up.  The friends and events he said kept him busy weren’t there.  I missed being out partying.  I started to talk to my fiancé more.  I told him I was going to Hawaii and he was mad.  He needed me to bail out our buddy the coke dealer.  I gave him the $800 to get him out of the hole.  He then has his mom book him a flight home for the holidays.  The airline went under and they didn’t have the money to buy another ticket.  I footed the bill for that too.  I think January was when I went to Hawaii.  We were broken up by then I told him I didn’t love him.  I reminded him that this was just for fun and I was trouble.  He took it hard but held up his end.  We went to Hawaii and had a good time.  He slept on the floor.  One night we got fucked up and tried to fool arround and he couldn’t get it up.  Fuck that!  He was 41 he seamed healthy but I was not in for it.  I was maybe 28 at the time. 

I got back I saw my fiancé.  We talked.  Shortly after I got a DUI.  The DUI classes brought me close to his new apartment.  He worked across a field from me.  I gave him a ride some times (he still had no car).  He told me about the big houses and fancy partys he was going to.  All these new friends and made it sound like a great time.  His new place was better than anywhere we ever lived before.  It made me miss him.  I gave him a box of chocolates for Valentines day.  I got nothing.  He berated me for seeing this other guy.  He said I broke his heart.  Even though I left because he was a dead beat druggie that was often mean to me I started to fall back into a relationship with him.  Since my friends had been pushed away long ago I didn’t have my circle to hang with.  I was lonely felt like a looser.  Even my sisters fat friend didn’t want to fool arround with me.  We went to a concert together and cried about how cute our kids would have been when we got home loaded.  Before I knew it I was staying over all the time.  Partying like crazy and finally just moving in.  Before I knew it I was knocked up and we were looking for a house to buy.  He had a job, he promised he would help and I was sold.  That was 4 1/2 years ago.  He kept his job for about 6 months after I bought the home.  Hasn’t worked since.  He started partying without me since I was pregnant then a nursing Mother I would not party.  He started being mean, un helpful and having one medical issue after another.  I should have known better I blame myself for this mess.