The Beginning of the End

Read Part 1 here

Anyway, Sunday night “Good nights” were crap.

While I was in the air on my way home from my first trip to see him, TC had been reading my blog. He read the table of contents – more precisely the “Other ‘Other’ Men” page (which was temporarily removed… Too little too late. I know. The damage had already been done…). I went to bed completely hating on myself.

After such an awesome weekend with him, I wanted to have some time to swoon. But instead, this.

Therefore, Monday morning sucked. To make it worse, on top of my hating myself, TC avoided me all day long. He didn’t respond to my messages on Facebook and I think I even sent him a text. I tried to stay positive, though. Reminding myself that he has two jobs and a daughter; eventually that all has to factor in. I got used to his attention daily when, in reality, he has much more important things to deal with than me.

I felt so yucky Monday afternoon that I almost called to cancel a job interview I had scheduled for Tuesday morning. But I didn’t.

Second Sunday Good-Byes

(This was my first Sunday in Houston, back in July. I’m finishing it because I said I would. The Facebook conversation-parts have all been deleted; I still have the text messages.)

Very early Sunday morning, after sharing some very special intimate moments, I grasped TC’s resting cock and held him in my hand. As we were drifting back into dreamland, he mumbled, “Yours.” In response I squeezed a little tighter for a moment and whispered just below his earlobe, “Yes, Papi. Mine.”

I wished I could have slowed time completely for that single moment. It was so comfortable there with him, nestled into his shoulder. I was warm, sated and felt adored.

We slept until about 8AM and then TC offered to go out and get us coffee again. This time I didn’t object as I had the morning before, understanding that he needed and wanted to be able to do this for me. Also, it’s possible that he wanted some time alone.

Did Weight Loss Cause me to be an Asshole?

I read an article that stated “going organic can make you feel smug about yourself — and act nasty to others”.
Here it is: http://news.yahoo.com/does-eating-organic-food-jerk-150500363.html

It made me look at myself because I have just lost a TON of inches (I won’t say I lost weight, because I have only lost 30 pounds). I went from a size 20 to a size 14 and I am extremely proud of myself! But now I look at the way people dress in a totally different way. I’ve become quite intolerant of fat people who are completely unable to see how bad their clothes look (thank you to What Not To Wear for that, folks…).

I used to look in the mirror and see myself as a fat person no matter what I was wearing. There was nothing big enough to cover the rolls I was seeing – there were pantylines in ALL my jeans… So, I can’t stop asking myself when I see these people:
“How can they dress like that and not know what they look like?”

By the way — I have an agreement with both of my daughters that if I EVER look inappropriate when I go out in public, they NEED to tell me! I sure as hell would tell them!

And, to top it off (pun intended), is it too much to ask that a girl puts on a bra that FITS, or just to put one on? Goodness gracious! It’s like some females want them to just pop out when they lean over to pick up something. I’m sure you’ve seen some of them (and I really don’t mind looking at a pretty set of gazongas)!

I DO understand that it’s inconvenient to get fitted for a bra (and apparently clothes that fit properly). There’s really only one person on this planet that I feel comfortable “poppin’ the titties” out for, and it’s definitely not the stranger working in the lingerie department at Sears! But, does it really hurt to go in and have a few measurements done to make sure the “girls” have a comfortable and, in some cases, reinforced home?

And, I totally understand about not having enough money to buy new clothes! We go to the thrift store instead. My friends are astonished at the awesome things that I wear – most of it for under $5.00. For Example: my 17-year-old daughter got a beautiful prom dress there for $8.00 and she was more than proud to wear it to her Junior Prom – in fact, bragged to her friends about where she did get it! And it fit her just fine (glamorous is a much better adjective): no “muffin top”, her boobs were totally reigned-in, and she didn’t even look like a hooker! I was such a proud mother!!!

Deep down I know that it’s not appropriate to tell people that they look scary, or to tell them they can get a new, clean, decent-looking outfit at the Salvation Army down the street. So, I just keep telling myself: if those people aren’t out there wearing bad clothes and looking hideous, I could very well take the place of the worst-dressed person in the world! So, I will be happy with what I wear and use the others as my What Not to Wear version of every day life.