Bride of George


Disturbing fact: I’m now fit enough that when I raise my arms and move them quickly, I can feel my back fat jiggling. *shudder*

Sliding back out of the fat suit always takes time. It’s so easy to put on, so easy to zip up and feel semi-comfortable in. Only semi-comfortable, though. Fat suits are most comfy when I’m alone, and don’t feel like I have to try and suck my gut in that extra half inch ALL THE FUCKING TIME. Yeah. I catch myself at that every other damn minute; holding my stomach in – like THAT would make a difference. Pffft. The half inch I keep sucked in can’t balance out the MEATINESS of my torso. Just large proportions.

But yeah, I’m taking it off. Slowly. Like a fat suit striptease. If I was really all ambitious, I’d get a picture of myself every other week or so in the same pose and then string ’em together in video – zip! Look at me shrink. If I was a smart shameless promoter, I’d be taking those pictures to exploit my tell all book: Keep the Beep at 50. Make up a great secret to tell everyone how to look like me and live like me when you’re all fucking 50. Then sell it, at $13.95 a pop. Do the talk show circuit; put Oprah to shame – whatever size she is. Get doctors to authenticate that no, I haven’t had any plastic surgery so when that smart ass stands up and says something I’ve got proof to shove down his/her throat.

But the weight coming off.

Bought another €2 pair of pants (such a big spender!) at the same size I did before EXCEPT this new pair has some elastic in the waistband. And yes, they’re a bit big on me – particularly around the waist. So happy that shop is there. I don’t feel bad trying the next size down when it’s only €2. It’s fun, even. The place is too small to have a changing room, though I COULD use the WC in the hall. I don’t. I want to get home and try the pants on. It’s like I have the whole metro ride back to think ‘Will they fit? Will they look as good as I think they will?’ It’s a little excitement, like playing the lotto.

My party girl – she’s been in da house, in case you haven’t noticed – is rather excited and this morning I’d like to beat her around the ears with a rolling pin. Because she’s being fucking RIDICULOUS (hear me, bitch?). *sigh* Here’s what’s setting her off: There’s this dude, one of the instructors/helpers at my Wednesday class. He’s younger. And kind of handsome; I didn’t think much of his looks at first, but he’s been growing on me. And he keeps making a point of talking to me. Not just talking WITH me, which he does as well, but talking TO me in a kind of flirty manner. Oh, yes! The party girl thinks she’s being flirted with so she’s all excited. She does so enjoy being the center of attention. I am grumbling more than ever at her this minute. Because I don’t really think he’s flirting with me; he’s just prompting me a bit in a teasing manner. He’s now joking that he’s gonna lay a bet down that I will speak fluent Dutch within 1 year. When he said that yesterday I put my ‘fucking hell!’ response to the pressure aside and just kind of took the scene in…his smile, how close he stood to me…I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. I’m more annoyed over being excited by the POSSIBILITY than I am over whether or not it’s actually happening. What are you thinking, party girl? That you’re gonna get a boyfriend of 20 something? Yes, you could do it; we all know that. You don’t have to keep proving it over and over, bee-yitch. And what the fuck, exactly, do you think you’d do once you’ve GOT that 20 something cutie by your side? Let me answer that for you, because I know the answer: you’ll run. Run, like you always do. Tell them thanks, the chase was fun and they’re really cute and if you were ONLY 10 years younger, you’d plunge right in and then – vamoose. Can we try to handle this better? How about we agree to enjoy the attention, WHATEVER the source, and just let the rest go. Concentrate on your damn studies, woman! And if you’re really fucking curious, watch his pupil dilation. You know what to look for.

Shut that bitch up. She’s been rampaging for a while now, and when Steph from stephellaneous said that she’d let the idea of coming over for a visit simmer….Well, party girl got up, found an old pair of boots and has been tramping around in my head – complete with big hair and 80s style makeup – ever since. Invitations have been extended to a few people, and it seems the Season of Partying has begun. I have GOT to put a leash on this one – and won’t that S&M loving freak just get wood on THAT idea. What DID I do with those handcuffs I had?

Who the fuck needs meds to feel zoned out? I was up at fucking 5:30 AGAIN, even though I kept telling myself to rest a bit more, class is early today and I’m still tired from swimming two days in a row. The auto pilot kicked in; my body raised itself off the bed and sought out a pair of socks in the dark. Once it got coffee in me, well, I was fine (FINE = freaked out, insecure, neurotic, and emotional. Comes from a film; my brain can’t remember which one, but I LOVE that definition.). Been walking around feeling like my head is wrapped in cotton for days now. Fogged out. Tired, but unable to sleep. And when I’m up I just wanna GO! My GP told me (as did anyone and everyone else I talked to about bipolar) that times like this, when I’m able to get down for 6-8 hours, I’m not really manic. Really? Really really? So far no one has listened to me when I talk about factoring in the exhaustion from my RA. When that kicks in, I’m guaranteed to sleep an extra 2-3 hours every night. Take away two to three hours and I’m looking at an adjusted sleep time range of 3-6 hours. Now THAT falls within your fucking graph, doesn’t it?

Not to mention my aggression issues.

Tender feet on the ground. I’m walking my life away….that’s what it feels like. Like every night I go and walk another 10 miles. Ow. I must be doing it; I must be moving while standing still. I can feel it – in my feet, in what’s happening in my life. I don’t know how I’m doing it; don’t know how I can juggle and keep my balance and still crack a joke, but I am. I am shit proof lately. Just sliding off my back. Like a duck.

Maybe I’m Bride of George. Whadda ya think?


19 thoughts on “Bride of George

  1. Body dysmorphia huh? Autocorrect suggested dystopia, which I thought was rather wonderful. Beeps, write something else, I am not a fuck reading a self help road map for the next 5yrs. And re the handsome man – yesssss! Of course he’s into you, stay (I can’t believe I’m gonna say this) positive about the fact that he’s attracted to you. And fuckem if they can’t make a graph 😀 And I suspect that you might be less Bride of George and more Slave of Swimming Pool these days, which reminds me – subs shouldn’t have to supply their own cuffs.


    Liked by 2 people

    1. ROFL! Oh, Blah! Are you SURE you don’t want to buy my book just to learn it’s all drink water, get some exercise, and take vitamins? ;-D I’ll include plenty of pictures.

      Oh, don’t get me going!!! I got it under control today. Not that it’s difficult; I only see him Wednesday so my next face to face is MILES away. No. Gonna concentrate on my studies. NEED to. Maybe if he asks if I want to have a coffee after class, I’ll say yes. To chat. Not to flirt. To chat.

      Am I justifying myself enough yet?

      Liked by 2 people

      1. Well now that you put it that way, it sounds like a very good investment indeed. I’m practising my astonished expression for when I read it.

        Want some help with the justification? You should absolutely spend as much time as you possibly can with native speakers, it’s a very important aspect of learning a language. Being uh, interested in a native speaker is also an excellent motivational um, tool.

        Liked by 2 people

  2. The Italian Job – I hear it every time someone says they’re FINE. And when I say that I am, I’m secretly referring to it as the acronym! (It IS the Italian Job, right? Fuckin’ hell, this is what google is for, but I can’t be bothered!)

    Simmer. Simmer simmer. So. Fucking. Hyper. this morning. It’s a good thing I’m not visiting at the moment, or I’d let you get me in all sorts of trouble!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. YES! BOO-YA!! You nailed it! Forgot the title, ’cause it’s one of those rare films I don’t own yet. FINE. Gotta fucking LOVE it. 😀

      Ooooo! *and the party girl steps up* Bring the trouble on, bee-yutch! 😉 I be SO ready to tear this town up with you…and maybe Amsterdam, too.


      1. This is probably where I’m supposed to tell you I’m a semi-recluse. (Only “semi” because I have to work. Stupid work.) And the very idea of partying…like out in public and shit…scares me to death!

        But damnit you get me all revved up and thinking I can do it!

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Ah, then we’ll take baby steps. Party in da house. The closest bar is on the ground floor of the building, so we don’t have to go to fancy places, just downstairs. And if you DO feel like being someone else for a night and really going for it, we’ll find the right venue! 😉

        Liked by 1 person

      3. It’s okay. I hide my panic well “in the real world.” So it probably would have gone something like this in reality:

        You suggest we go out.
        I kinda hem and haw with a lot of uhm and eye contact aversion. Then kinda squeak, “okay.”
        We go out.
        I get a drink and hide in the corner all night.

        Ahaha! Yep. I think that about sums it up!

        Liked by 1 person

      4. Naw, see it wouldn’t go down that way ’cause you’d be with the party girl. She’d DRAG you into conversations, introduce to you EVERYONE: Oh, no, I live here but my friend Steph is on a visit – come here Steph, they want to meet you.

        Party girl can be very full of herself.

        Liked by 1 person

      5. In some ways, that’s what I’ve needed. Maybe in more measured doses at first. It’s very hard for someone with social anxiety and deep-seated issues with self-worth and rejection – it’s very hard for someone like that to peek outside the bubble without a catalyst.

        I’ve wished for a friend or friends that would push me, pull me. Ya know?

        So it sounds scary! And fun! 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      6. 😀 Here’s the PERFECT solution: come for Halloween. Not this year, obviously. But build it into your simmering process. That way, we can get all dressed up and look NOTHING like ourselves and go out and be entirely different people for the night. Sound like fun? I got a wig you can wear! 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      7. Holy fuck, woman. I’ve dressed for Halloween twice in my life..both times as a kid. Everyone is parading around up here today (at work) in costume. I don’t participate partly because I don’t want the attention a costume would bring. Funnily enough, they think I came as a hacker. Because of the show Mr. Robot. And I’m in black jeans, my docs, a tee, and a hoodie. Those stupid fuckers think I did it on purpose as some last-minute costume! AHAHAHA!

        Good god I digress…but I suppose dressing up THERE would be different. Because I don’t have to live up (or down) to the expectations of anyone. Because those fuckers don’t know me! 😀

        Liked by 1 person

      8. Exactly! Best thing about holidays: no one who sees you will EVER see you again. Freeing.

        I’ll be honest here: I have NOT seen a shit load of adults out in costume. Maybe I’m not looking in the right places, so I’ll keep my eyes and ears open, now that both understand a bit more Dutch. However, I have NO problem walking around fully dressed in costume. Wigs and make up and who’s gonna know it’s us? Only us. Time to be gutsy!

        Liked by 1 person

      9. No no no no, I had costume on the brain because of Halloween up here. But wigs and make-up…NO one on earth would recognize me. This chick has never even dyed her hair! And makeup is eyeliner and soooometimes mascara or lip balm. Ha! A wig and make-up oughta fool the world!

        Liked by 1 person

  3. lol! Excellent use of ‘arse’. Sometimes that extra ‘r’ really makes a difference, doesn’t it? 😉

    PARTY PARTY PARTY! Don’t YOU start now. I still don’t have that bitch on a leash yet…and she still gets wood thinking about leashes, damn it!

    *brr* Don’t keep reminding me about stopping with the herb! I’m not there yet, not there yet, and happily toking away right now. *puff, puff*

    Some animals LIKE getting high; some don’t. Just like people. I had one cat who used to bite me every time I lit up and one cat who snuggled so I’d blow my hit his way. So George would need to make up his own mind. If he avoided it, I wouldn’t do it around him because he’s such a civil duck in general. If he got into it, I’m sure I could whip up a batch of herb bread to toss at him and the group – now THAT would be an interesting video! 😉 (seriously. no ducks will be harmed in the making of any videos.)

    Liked by 1 person

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