Showing Less can Actually Be More

I proved to my seven year old daughter who has an obsession with two piece bathing suits that a one piece can turn just as many heads, if not more when the person in the bathing suit is a lady.

I am kinda giddy from the high my daughter just gave me.  She remembered the talk when we bought bathing suits, and actually counted the people that stared at her mom when she came down to the swimming pool.  The actual count was men.  She said all the women that looked hated me on sight and didn't count. (What mom would not love this kid?)

The point of this blog is that my daughter understood that my one piece bathing suit made me more attractive and was flattering, and in a world of high class sluts in Hilton Head, I stood out.  I didn't look like an old lady, nor a prude.  I just looked good.  Without showing my stomach or tits to the world.  And my kid got it.

In your face statistics and Cosmo.

My kid trumped you all.

In her one piece bathing suit.

She's proud of.

Knock-off Versions that People 'Buy'

I have long stated I don't do much on the FB crowd, but I was sorting through my senior group page and had to take a deep breathe because I found out somebody that made a difference in my life died and I didn't know.  His death was in 2011.  He was my principal in High School.

I feel so angry reading comments people wrote about him.  They have no idea how much 'missing him and how enthusiastic he always was' simply disgusted me in cliché shallowness.

These people that are my age now wouldn't understand my anger or outrage because they don't know me.  What they do know they simply looked the other way, judged and pretty much wrote off as teenage liability. 

I was emancipated from my parents in 1990.  My principal took on my mother, and defended me when he could and in court wrote a letter on my behalf to the judge.

I graduated high school alone.  No family. No friends. Only proud teachers and of course my principal.  Even they had to keep their distance.  I was a straight A student whose first job was being a bagger at Winn-Dixie, that went to school, lived in a few not good places and worked 30 hours a week at Shoney's.  I still graduated and received a full scholarship, but that final year wasn't sterling.  Sometimes I don't believe it happened.  But it did. 

I left home in my uniform from Winn Dixie, my Mom got me fired.  I had to wash the same pair of underwear every night for a week and wear the same clothes to school. I still went to school to be safe and because I wanted to graduate.  I felt like everyone thought it was me.  I was the problem.

Not my principal.  I still have his letter.  I still have all my teacher's letters.  They didn't save me, I saved myself, but without them, no judge would have given me my freedom having no home, but I got it.

Mr. Terrel cared about me and whenever he could he always made those snot nosed kids stop hurting me with words.  I never told anyone at school about my home life.  So they just pushed and pushed.

These people probably think that was a phase for them and now they are grown up.  The past is gone.  That's true.  It's behind me.  I feel bad for not knowing he died until now, but I know he knew I appreciated him and what he did.

The point of this is merely a melancholy one... I'm a parent.  I raise my daughter to care.  To see with wide eyes.  To have empathy.  To love.  And I don't use the word Bully except to describe people that use violence.  It's pecking order.  It's popularity.  It's because they can.  I teach her skills to see people coming and anticipate who and what they bring with them to school.  She's only seven, but she listens.

Reading FB made cobweb memories come back.  Some good most bad... and then I think of now... and kids... theirs...I have no enthusiasm for inquiring about my classmates' children.  Case in point: this is what is wrong with our society.

Nobody that's anybody would say they had any part in judging me or how my life at 17 was and everyone else simply would nod in agreement.

How sad.  Not for me.  Children are a distillation of two people... so .. its mind boggling how detached a couple generations from now will be... and how 'blameless'.

The Title is what it means:

People are eager to Buy a cheaper version of an ideal.  They can't afford the real thing because it costs too much... they might have to care.

Packing With A Plan: Rabbit Hole

My serenity collapses under the pressure of my husband Mr. Morpheous. His plans and needs to go specifically designed for optimum vacation enjoyment make me feel like wanting to wake up in my bed and believe whatever I want to believe a much better idea. I'm still sick, and boy I want something sharp and pointy right now. Go.go.go.

I guess I'll eat a green pill instead. Screw rabbit holes.

The View Twotablesnotime has of the Back Yard Realm

And yes, we're thinking of the Matrix movies here.  

Antibiotics and the possibility to Humanly Raise Bread and Pack for Vacation

Great.  Realization that I have to go visit the VooDoo doctor, pack for vacation and finish hacking up really disgusting chest chunks has no glamour.  Oh and by the way, I haven't smoked in a week.  Gained five pounds, but the bonus is no cigarettes.

I tried one this afternoon.  One puff and it tasted like crap.  I'm glad my brief cigarette fetish seems to be wearing itself out.

So I still haven't talked to my family.

I texted my best friend.

At least tethers are good for undercovers (literally) cop-outs.

Can I also say, freak out sesssion?  Pack for Hilton Head... One Day.  Gooody Gooooody.

Thank goodness for amazing cough syrup.

And my kid's butterfly farm is probably going to hatch while we're gone.  That stinks.

Thank goodness for grandma.

and the fishtank guy will take care of my tank while I'm gone.

Let's hope tomorrow I feel up and at them.

This drano antibiotic treatment really sucks.  Bring on the yogurt.  and Probiotics.

Nothing says romance at the beach like yeast.

But Hey, I can get a 'rise'out of something. ha.

Oh not so funny.

Back to my addiction of Netflix.

The Tudors reminded me of medieval Twitlet...only no vampires or werewolves....

So why not Grey's Anatomy.

Man, not watching TV for years has its plus side.

I wish Netflix had House.

Anyway

Asthma Allergies, Netflix Addiction or Simply Hiding?

Today I finally went to the doctor.  I had a great Mother's Day.. and it went downhill from there.  I didn't see my own Mom or call, because well, just being around her or the thought makes me anxious then and then I feel like vomiting.  It gets complicated.  I love my Mom, but .. and then the but ruins it.. and for me, sometimes not knowing is easier than rejection.. if that makes any sense whatsoever.

Anyway, I thought at first I was just tired because of guilt and depression that having my own life is a deadly sin, and fear of other lives clashing with my own lead me to be so tired.

Actually, I came down with a dire case of asthma and allergies that decided to settle in my chest.  Like I need more chest (ha ha).

Anyway, I'm effectively on Drain-o antibiotics and wish I could shower or take a bath, but I can't because the humidity would make me have an asthma attack... a downside to an already sucky condition... and this isn't like the movie Brokeback Mountain...I'm sick of cowboy bathing.

Anyway.. I've been watching www.netflix.com way too much... to the point of addiction.  Netflix opened the doors to catching up on lost television shows like Lost Girl and Dollhouse.  And then because they conveniently emailed me, I watched Season 2 of Borgia.  The fun didn't stop there, I managed to cram in entire seasons of Make it or Break it, Heartland and Dance Academy.  And I loved the original series Hemlock Grove.  Currently I'm trying to make the TV series The Tudors work for me..*cough* wheeze*

For laughs, at the doctor's office, he asks why I'm not using my nebulizer so much, and I told him that Albuterol makes my heart race and scares me.  He tells me I don't have to use a whole treatment at once.  I think he loves my visits due to the laughter.. I told him I used it like a 'hypothetical bong' and 'hit' it when I needed to breathe and when my heart raced, I put it down.

So there you have it... hypothetical bong, Netflix, a hellacious cold that almost landed me in the hospital and me letting the electronic tether (my phone) die...

Oh Sweet Jesus..

I think I just came out of the movie Ted or something.  I just need to substitute a rat for the Teddy Bear.

Anyway.  I know, way too many movie and TV references.