TRUE CONFESSIONS: ILLUSTRATED

I'm finally sharing with everyone something I haven't even admitted to myself.

It's sort of shameful and I really didn't want to tell anyone. But it's become so obvious to ME that I'm sure people have taken notice. Even though they haven't said anything about it.

OK. Here goes.

ONE OF MY BOOBS IS SMALLER THAN THE OTHER.

I suppose it's okay to be deformed. We have a tolerant society. It's politically incorrect to laugh at people with handicaps.

It's really okay to have one boob too small. It's not like I use them for anything anymore. I breast fed four babies and entertained a number of husbands & boyfriends and made less endowed women jealous. Alas, those days are over.

I only wear bras to keep my boobs from jiggling when I walk and from getting stuck in the waistband of my pants. (Even though I think bras were invented by sadistic misogynists to sell them to women who never knew they needed them. Or to squeeze the breath out of us so lack of oxygen will befuddle our brains and make us more docile.)

I was wondering how I ought to go about fixing my smaller boob. I'm disinclined to get a boob job like the young hot girls. (It's really hard to let go of my big boobed hot years of long ago. << Sigh >>)

It's doubtful I could find a plastic surgeon who'd be willing to shorten the other one to match.

I'm not sure if I should look around for a bra that's padded on only one side. I could look around the house for an old shoulder pad that used to come with blouses and dress jackets. I bet most of you all are too young to remember them. I'd worry that A shoulder pad would fall out at an inopportune time and splash into my soup. Oh yeah. That's another reason I wear bras. Some soup is steaming hot!

Should I just forget about fixing it? If someone actually notices I should be glad that they still think it's worth looking in the direction of my breasts?

I don't know.  

I'm glad I got that confession off my chest. So to speak.

I'm not ready to talk about my other deformities. The real reason I wear pants with elastic waists. My stomach is too big; it sticks out too much. On the other hand, keeping up the interest in my different sized boobs does detract from interest in my potbelly.

Me at age 14 in the olden days when both my boobs were big enough.

I sprained every muscle in my body Saturday night. Listen to this (without laughing).

I keep forgetting my nighttime medications make me off balance. I went into the bathroom without my cane to use the "facilities" when I'd already been dozing off. I felt kinda like I was walking drunk (tho I forget what that was like because I quit drinking after my wild 20's.)

So before I knew it, I lost my balance and tipped over backwards, I grabbed at the handicapped bar beside the toilet. I missed!

I then kept tipping over so I grabbed at the smaller handicapped bar beside the tub.

I sat down on the side of the tub, relieved. Next thing I knew I was still tipping over backwards. I slid into the tub still holding to the bar. It was a slow motion fall. I wasn't hurt in the fall. I just sort of slipped in.

Eventually (i.e., not suddenly) I found myself in the tub, with my head leaning forward, on the far side of the tub and my legs sticking up over the side into the room. I was sideways in the tub, not lengthwise. 

I still had my shoes on.

I wasn't hurt in the fall. I just sort of slipped in.  

I have yanked myself out of the tub when I take a real bath, so no problem, right?
 
I realized I had to pull myself up with my arms by holding the handicap bar but I couldn't do it with only one hand. I had to go straight up because my legs were pretty much higher than my head, if you can imagine. 
 
However, I had the shower chair in the tub and it was pulled up closer to the faucet so I was wedged into the space between both faucet and chair. No wiggle-room.

My first thought was, "I hope there's no spiders in here." Then I noticed my butt was getting wet from the tub floor. I reminded myself I had other pajamas. Then remembered I didn't and what was I going to wear to bed? Dismissed that idea. I'd find something.

I knew I had to get out. I would have been too embarrassed if someone found me in this un-ladylike position. Especially dead--no telling how long it would have taken to find me. Besides I didn't want my dogs chewing on my toes. 


I contemplated my dilemma. I had to turn and get all the way into the tub before I could get out. So I swiveled around in the small space available. Oof. Groan.
Now my knees were bent up in front of me. Nearly touching my chin. At least I was facing the right way.

My left knee hurt when I tried to bend it enough to get my feet under me or push myself up to standing, so I couldn't do it. Ouch. 

I then had a hold of both handicap bars, one on each side of the tub. So I tried to pull myself up with my arms. Ugh, what a job that was.

I finally lifted myself up, moaning and straining and finally sat on the edge of the shower chair. It was a tough maneuver. But I did it!

I couldn't help but think:  I wish I hadn't gained 20 lbs. the last couple years. I thought next that if I were really really old (instead of just moderately old) I never could have done it. No time to worry about the future at this point.

So, I'm glad I wasn't hurt myself in the fall. I just sprained every muscle in my body getting up. Probably serves me right. If I ever fall again I hope it's in-love not bathroom fixtures.

So. The next day was Sunday and  "day of rest" has taken on a new meaning.

 

WHAT DREAMS MAY COME...

The people in my dreams are having more fun than I am! 

NOT FAIR!

I had a dream this morning (I sleep late) about my teen-aged years boyfriend Bill Reilly whom I dated when we were sixteen. He was so amazingly handsome -- dark curly hair and beautiful blue eyes. And he was the most amazing kisser.

In this dream he was living with a wife in a house with tenants that wanted to rent my childhood home. After we recognized each other, Bill came to see me. 

We had, in this dream, the most wonderful making-love-session. Make that sessions.

It turned out Bill was as wonderful at this dream sex as he'd been at kissing back in 1960. 

He arranged the rental and the people in his house moved into my parents' house. Of course, it was in my old hometown Cheverly. 

His wife became suspicious and then jealous. We met at at a seminar someplace and she was very angry at me.

I found out later that Bill was having sex with a whole bunch of women and was, as a matter of fact, a sex addict. And he didn't go to Sex-Addicts-Anonymous. My gain. 

After the tenants moved into Mom and Dad's house and Bill went someplace unknown  leaving me AND his wife, I realized I was driving around Cheverly all alone. None of my old friends were there anymore. I had no place to go to discuss my broken-heart! Not even a relative.

I drove past my old house and saw the new family having dinner in the front yard. No place for me there. I drove up Dewey Street hill but saw no one I knew.

I went to a crowded restaurant on a second floor in some building that never existed. It had low ceilings and was filled with round tables. The place was full. No one knew me. They sat me behind a column facing a wall. No one came to take my order so I picked up my cell phone and left, indignant.

 ~~

When I woke up after this dream, I loved and full of joy. I regretted that I'd never had this wonderful a time when Bill and I were teenagers. My loss. Believe it or not, I wanted to, but he didn't. It had something to do with religion.

Last time I saw Cheverly it was still eerily unchanged. The houses and well-kept yards are all the same and full of different people. The older generation have all passed away. And the young people who passed into adulthood are old and someplace else. 

Bill was swept away in the VietNam war.

I still miss him. 

THE WRITING MIND

I'm one of those writers that wants to write. I write and write all the time. I'm very wordy and I know I overdo it. 

Many people have a zillion ideas but can't write.

I can write but I have no ideas. 

I'm stuck. 

I'll get back to you later.

LESSONS, LEARNING EXPERIENCES OR STABBED IN THE BACK?

Bolt out of the blue?

The main difference between Lessons and Learning experiences is obvious: "Lessons" imply you were screwed by the universe.  And "Learning Experience" implies you screwed yourself using your own stupidity. 
 
You know the difference between dumb and stupid, right? Dumb is when you don't know anything. Stupid is when everything you know is wrong.

I really don't think some higher power running the universe is on the lookout for me just waiting to get me (if so, where is he when people are shooting at each other?) If I'm supposed to have a lesson, would the lesson be "Some people are out to get you" ?

A learning experience is equally ridiculous. I'm 68. I have, thank you, learned things my entire life. I've learned enough wisdom to write a book. 

I suppose the basic lesson to learn is "Be careful"

Just how careful can a person be? What's the difference between a little careful and a lot careful? And how do you know when it's enough careful? I can't see a differentiation. Why would anyone be non-careful? Even the people who are recklessly uncareful think they are careful.

I've been hearing "be careful" since the day I stood up and took my first step. (Gee, thanks for that lesson, Ma.) Frankly, I don't see much of a difference between "being careful" and being afraid." Neither of which will get you very far in life.
   
I want to see our society stop this awful fad of "blaming the victim." 

Sometimes the situation is that bad and sad things happen regardless of you being careful. Things are not always the result of something you did or didn't do. Not even a result of what you believe, think or feel, or intended. These things aren't "unfortunate" or "lessons" or learning experiences.  They're just unfair, undeservedly tragic or horrid occurrences.

For example I had a friend who got cancer when she was 26. She did everything she could to get better--medical, mental, emotional and spiritual. And she died a year later. It wasn't something that she did or didn't do.  It was something that happened to her. Not a lesson, not  something she caused, and not something it was in her power to undo. It was just a fucking horrible thing to happen to her and her family and friends.

What's the learning experience of fatal diseases? That fate randomly stabs people in the back for no good reason now and then? 

Another example: I called a plumber and gave him a deposit to fix a leak. He didn't show for the appointment to repair it, nor did he call and explain it, nor did he attempt to reschedule. He wanted $5000 to dig a humongous hole under my house.)

When I saw he wasn't going to do the job, I cancelled right away in a written fax to his email and verbally in a phone call.  

And I asked for a refund of my deposit. I have yet to see a dime of my money. He, in fact, has neglected answer his phone, call me or even return my calls.  That's seems a bit odd for a "company" that say on their business card "24/7."

I didn't create this; I wasn't "not careful'; I didn't deserve this, nor was I acting stupid. And, dammit, I didn't need a lesson or a learning experience. I just needed my plumbing fixed and expected to hire someone and get it done!

I don't believe that I'm just a broke little old lady that gripes about everything and get screwed over because she harbors a "victim mentality."  If there was any learning experience to be had it's that this "plumber" conned me, lied, hustled & evaded me and stole from me because he's a cold-hearted conman, a liar, a hustler, and a thief. Just how, I ask, is that supposed to teach me anything?

Now that I've gotten over dealing with the major hurt and anger, you can bet I'm out to get this guy!

I want my money back and I want this guy's business license investigated. I want to press charges for fraud. Or sue him (though I now understand that a couple others have sued him in civil court and he never paid them the judgments.) 

I WAS careful to verify his company before I "hired" him. The company came up clean. It wasn't until I ran up his personal name, I found out what a "bad" person he is. Unless he's using the name of another plumber or another company of that name. In that case, he'd be an identity theft imposter as well as being a thief.

If I can't get even with this guy, I want him to go to Hell. Literally.