1Q update

smalltits
And now, a joke about small boobs, because sometimes they fall off. I totally got harassed into this but I have a couple things to clarify and an odd grocery store encounter to tell.
First, I was training for about the last eight months to do a NPC Bikini show and up until last week, I was ready and I was pretty excited. I wasn’t super sure about my look yet but was trying to trust the process. When I realized that I wasn’t going to be where I wanted, I decided not to do the show and give myself more time. That was less than a week ago and now I’m not certain I will ever do it. Going through this process makes it easy to be hyper critical of yourself and forget all the good stuff you’ve done. I’m quite sick of people telling me I’m getting too skinny and to “stop losing weight–enough.” I thought about countering this with telling everyone how much I weigh and what size I am so here it is: nunya. I certainly don’t think about how much you weigh or what size you wear, so leave me the fuck alone. 🙂 I started taking pleasure in telling people that I carefully weigh and measure all my food and then I throw it up.

I’m taking a vacation day on Friday to get my hair did and need my nails done (this was supposed to be for show prep but beauty is fun so I’m still doing it) and they are long and clicking on the keyboard and making me fucking nuts right now. This is a real sacrifice for me.

A few weeks ago I was at the grocery store getting some food and I needed a couple of greeting cards–one for Captain in his care package and a birthday card for my heterolifemate. I was looking through them without a real giggle yet and from my right someone side “Oh, to be 13”. I looked up and there was a woman, I thought in her 60s, walking toward me with a birthday card. “Ha, yeah, no responsibility. That was nice.” I try to keep stranger interactions at a minimum lately. I went against all better judgement at work and wound up with a creeper then couldn’t get away from Chatty Kathy at the gym one morning so I steer clear now. “You just don’t appreciate it when you’re young. I’m going to be 80 {STFU!! She didn’t look that old} and you just don’t appreciate your youth until it’s gone,” she kept going. “Well I’d say you’re doing pretty well!” I was trying to be polite here. Maybe she needs a friend and her family doesn’t visit her. It wouldn’t kill me to humor her for five minutes. I don’t know how we got here but soon she was telling me that she was in the Marines during the Korean War and wiped out her wallet to show me her military ID and her official USMC photo. She was beautiful, like a propaganda poster to recruit nurses or something. “I still get to go on any base I want. Still have military benefits.” “Wow, that’s so great of you. My grandpa is a Korean War vet–Army–and he’s going to be 80 this summer. What did you do?” Now I was super interested. In my head we would become friends and I would go to her house on Sundays and she would tell me tales of the war and being one of the only women around, strong yet feminine busting balls and falling in love, and I would ghost-write her autobiography and it would be a hit! I would get it on the New York Times Best Sellers list and finally launch my career as an author. “I was a weather tracker for the pilots. Did their routes and tracked the weather balloons.” I got a SERIOUS aviation boner at this–a minority female weather observer in the Korean War in the USMC. God was finally answering my whiny prayers. For some reason I throw this tidbit in, “I’m actually waiting for my boyfriend to come back from Afghanistan.” And this is the part of the story where she turns on me.
“No, no more of this boyfriend-girlfriend nonsense. When he comes back, you lock that down. I married the commander, that’s what I did. Then when they die, you get all their benefits. No more nonsense.” And then she paraded around the corner and left me standing there, slack-jawed and dazed. At this point I realized I couldn’t breathe because I was doubled over and laughing hysterically, the kind where you don’t make any noise. I was also concerned that I would pee my pants. I already had to kind of go because I was drinking two gallons of water a day for training and this wasn’t helping. That’s pretty much it for that story. I made a fabulous connection to start my career as a slacker writer and then it slapped me in the face and chastised my singleness. Standard day at the grocery store.

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1Q update

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