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While No One was Looking . . .

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Kindergarten MJ

Everything made sense in my life at this age. Every day was the same, and so were the people around. Occasionally, my mom would attempt to introduce me to new environments, with varied results. What I remember about my life at this time, was all positive. I don’t think I understood any negative things in the world. I just wanted my rabbit (security blanket) and my Mommy. This was a Happy Ass Lil’ Girl. Everyone used to tell me how smart and pretty i was. I was always the teacher’s pet. I was friends with everyone I encountered, because I presented well. I was a very articulate, polite, well put together, petite little girl. I didn’t understand that any of the “isms” even existed.

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Middle School MJ

My grandfather introduced me to Pork the summer before 6th grade.  I know that sounds random, but most girls in my family can tell you when they started gaining weight.  I spent that summer with my father in Pittsburgh, and it was spent at my grandfather’s house. He had a freezer full of food in the basement, and every night he would cook some kind of greasy ass meat.  Joyce didn’t cook like that, we had baked chicken every night.  My grandfather would let me eat any and everything while I was there.  I gained so much weight that summer my cousins in Detroit didn’t even recognize me.  I wasn’t ashamed of my weight, I just saw that people looked at me differently.

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College MJ (I looked like an Auntie)

By the time I got to college, I was used to being fat. I was used to being the fattest person in the room, and used to chairs being uncomfortable.  I still lived my life. Just slower than most people.  I went to parties and danced my ass off.  I made friends of all sizes, but my main ones were smaller than me. I started hating going to the mall with them tho.  Because we didn’t shop in the same stores.  When I was with them, the staff in those stores looked at me like I was beneath them.  Because I was fat. So I stopped shopping for clothes.  Everything came from Lane Bryant anyway.  I had brief moments of “Feeling Myself” but it was mostly because all my friends were gay men Junior/Senior year and they made me stop wearing turtlenecks even in the summer. I started wearing colors other than blue and green. I started buying sexy bras and showing off my chest.  It wasn’t all the time, I grew into my body.  I stopped thinking it was this thing, and realized I could control how I felt about it.

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Post College MJ

I lost my virginity at 26 years old.  This matters.  Boys in college weren’t checking for the Big Girls, they just weren’t.  It was already weird I was a virgin in college, the conversations were just so damn awkward after college.  A Grown Ass Man, 11 years older than me, was the first person I slept with.  It was the 1st time I had felt pretty in a long time.  Desired or wanted. It was a one time experience, but it gave me hope.

I was just gone have to find more men who knew I was fly regardless of my size.  That was the goal.  I started trying to be cute on purpose.  I wasn’t trying to lose weight, just look better in the clothes I had on. Then I went to a conference in 2009, and meet the most beautiful BIg Girls.  They were well dressed, wore makeup, and looked GOOD. There was no shame in their game, they knew they looked good and were HAPPY being Big. What if I didn’t let my weight make me sad? What if I stopped thinking I could only be loved by men who liked BIg Girls?  What if, I just lived my life?

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2012 MJ

This is me at my heaviest and Happiest (until now).  I was in all types of love.  I worked from home, and lived a homemaker’s existence.  That man would never love me back tho, because I couldn’t keep up with him. I couldn’t dance at the same speed he could, I couldn’t join him for a quick run in the morning.  I could barely walk our dog. When we broke up, I wasn’t surprised.  A large part of me felt like I wasn’t good enough for him anyway.  Because I was Fat.  So I came up with a plan.

It felt like my weight kept me from being happy for the last time!  I worked out every day for 8 months after we broke up.  It was the first time I’d ever made an effort to lose weight.  I lost it to prove him wrong.  To show him I was attractive, and cute, and worthy of his love. Thank God I finally realized he was just an asshole. I think I was a Size 20 at my smallest back then.  I lost the weight, but I didn’t learn anything from it.  So I gained it all back, and more.

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2017 MJ

In July of 2017, my mom was diagnosed with cancer for the 2nd time. I was 2000 miles away, and unable to travel freely because of my job/finances. I stopped eating.  It wasn’t a conscious choice, it’s just how my depression choose to manifest itself.  Before I knew it, I’d lost about 20lbs.  People were telling me how good I looked, and asking me my secret.  When I answered, “Depression,” they didn’t quite know how to take it.  Before I took 2 months off work to come back home and see about my mom, my therapist said to me, “What if you actually made the effort to keep losing weight?” It was a simple question, but the answer changed my life.

I had stopped making an effort to do anything.  Because my weight was a burden.  I stopped going to public events, because I didn’t want to have an issue with the seats/bleachers.  My body was my depression manifested.  I got to Michigan, joined a gym, and worked out for 2 hours every day. I lost an additional 30 lbs in the 1st month.  I made an effort, and I didn’t let myself make excuses.  I held myself accountable, and let others do it as well.

I figured out so much shit, released so many traumas that were attached to my size/weight/body along the way.  3 weeks ago, I bought a pair of pants at were a 14/16.  My original goal was to be a size 18 jean, so I can buy jeans at Walmart. [Because cheap}

While no one was looking, I lost a whole person. 

While no one was looking, I figured myself out.  I found out who I loved, and why I loved them.  I see this new girl in the mirror, and she’s so damn cute. I was so used to looking one way . . . I didn’t even notice when I stopped looking that way.  It’s only when I put on clothes that used to fit I realize how much I’ve changed.

I’m this . . . sexy girl, with a Phat Ass, and everything is real.  Imma BAAAAAAAAAAAAAD BITCH, and proud of it.  I can walk up stairs without running out of breath. I can park at the end of the parking lot and not be sweating by the time I get to the door of Target. I don’t have to ask for a seat belt extender on a plane. People don’t move over if I sit next to them.

Society sucks.  The fact that fat people aren’t accepted as “normal” is bullshit.  People who never used to pay attention to me, talk to me all the time. I’ve lost friends because of this weight loss. I’ve also gained relationships I wouldn’t trade for anything.  My size has been part of me my whole life. It’s not anymore.

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While No One Was Looking, I became the best version of myself.

You’re Welcome.

 

 

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Dear White People . . . I Have the Right to Be Angry

*If you are my friend and you are White, – if this offends you, contact me.  Have the difficult conservation with me.  If you aren’t willing to have a conversation with me about this, we aren’t really friends.*

I’ve started to see every white person I don’t know as the enemy/a threat.  I’m not exactly sure when it first started, but it was probably around the time that Mike Brown was murdered.  I didn’t grow up afraid of White people. Even though my mother made sure I knew the history of the United States, I lived the first 32 years of my life believing in the goodness of all people, regardless of their skin color.

I THOUGHT I understood racism.  I thought racism was dying out, and racism was just based on old ideals, in the south. I thought as we spent more time conversing and getting to know each other, racism would die.  After all, “Some of my BEST FRIENDS ARE WHITE.” They love me and I love them. They’ve never treated me any differently because I was Black*.

Racism is the herpes of -isms. Sometimes you forget it’s even there. But then, there is a flare up that very lewdly reminds you, “Oh Bitch, I NEVER Left.” It’s been there, lurking under the surface just waiting to ruin your whole got damn day. Be it the random white dude who won’t let you over on the freeway, to the lady checking your math, right after you give her the total, about money She Owes You. Or even, The News.

Before Mike Brown, I felt like the bad apples would eventually see the error in their ways, and we would all live together in harmony. Post-Ferguson, when people I’ve known my whole life wouldn’t stand up and speak up, I was . . . lost/hurt/angry/frustrated/devastated/other words that mean angry.

Why aren’t you fighting for me and my people? Why aren’t you in the streets, and talking to your family members about what is going on in the news? How could you even let the words come out of your mouth, “Well if he wouldn’t have . . . “

Strangers were livid about the collective rage coming from Black Millennials. They were livid that we were standing up for ourselves and being vocal about injustice. I’d never seen such ugly comments on internet articles. The wave of unarmed children, women, and men, killed by police officers, that followed Mike Brown’s murder has done nothing to illicit rage in some my White Counterparts.

They keep killing my people! Even children in the park aren’t safe! My skin color puts me in immediate danger every hour of every day! I’m afraid when I drive at night to get pulled over by a cop.  Help Me! Speak Up for Me! Can’t you see my pain! HELP ME!

It was at this point I realized the real issue.  The ROOT of Racism, is WHITE. PRIVILEGE. {a term for societal privileges that benefit people identified as white in Western countries, beyond what is commonly experienced by non-white people under the same social, political, or economic circumstances.}

Add to that a sense of Entitlement, and we are all pretty much fucked.  Because YOU don’t want the status quo to change.  You are safe, comfortable, and happy with the way YOU are treated in the world we currently live in.  In your bubble, nothing is wrong.  Because you don’t worry about your children when they go out to play, why should you notice/protest that I have to have that worry?

Enter All Consuming Rage.

I am WORTH your concern.  How DARE you live a life of blissful ignorance, with my people’s blood running in the street?!?!?!?! My Life Matters.

BLACK. LIVES. MATTER.

That’s not a fucking Slogan. It’s a truth. And the fact that your response is, “All Lives Matter,” is not only insulting, but Bullshit.  The correct phrase should be, “All Lives that Mimic My Own Matter.”

I’ve started to re-evaluate everything I ever knew about the people around me.  I’ve started to look at certain situations, and ask new questions. I find myself assuming motivations, before I start a conversation to actually understand motivations.

Then I’m pissed again, because that’s what YOU do. It’s why I’m angry in the first place. The difference between me and YOU, I catch myself.

I do the FUCKING WORK. I take the next step, acknowledge my hurt/pain/fear and it’s affect on the situation, and try to make sure I’ve done everything to understand your point of view and/or educate you.

I’m tired. I’m  FUCKING Exhausted.

Because I have to do my work, your work, and extra work.  I’m So Damn Tired. Why won’t you do the work? Why won’t you talk to the people in your life that refuse to listen to me? Help Me Please!!! I’m so tried of carrying this burden on my own.

{I went to the doctor because I was feeling off last week.  My blood pressure was 200/148. That’s no hyperbole. This is why I’m tired. It’s a miracle I haven’t stroked out yet.}

And this has caused my current mindset to be, “If you aren’t For Us, you’re Against Us.”

I have the right to be angry.  The fact that I haven’t started fighting people in the street is a testament to my fairly decent upbringing, and my need to keep my job. Stop telling me why I should turn the other cheek.  Stop telling me it’s going to get better, especially if you aren’t actively working to make it better.

I’m done trying to be nice, and quiet, and calm.  I’m Fucking Angry.

Do something, or shut-up. Point. Blank. Period.

 

I Can’t Drink You Away….

This blog MIGHT be all over the place (kinda like my emotions right now) but I promise there is a central theme.

*******Avengers: Infinity War Spoilers********

We all said, nothing can ever be better than Black Panther. I THINK we were wrong. This movie is just….. So first off, FUCK THANOS. His entire existence just ruined my life. For a myriad of reasons. The last 20 mins of that movie are 1000000000 times worse than the Red Wedding episode of GOT.

But what has me awake at 4:30am like I don’t have shit to do in 3 hours, is the relationship between Thanos & Gamora.

He stole her, after he destroyed half of her planet’s inhabitants. He killed her mother, and told her it had to happen that way. He then trained her to be a deadly assassin who traveled the world killing for him. Because he’s an ASSHOLE.

Even though Gamora swore she hated him, when she *thought* she had actually killed him it tore her apart. Like broke her all the way down. Because even after all the abuse, and hate, and self-loathing, that was her FATHER. Every girl just wants a Daddy.

My life is in chaos right now. I reached out to my father, who has more than enough money to help me deal with this situation. It’s an unexpected life altering event, right as I took 2 months (unpaid) FMLA off to help my mom.

I knew he was going to say no. I knew it in my soul. I told my mom he was going to say no. He did. I wasn’t even shocked. I had already been working on another solution to the problem. He has never helped me out in a crisis. He has actually caused the last 2. And yet…..I asked. At 36, I still held an impossibly small piece of hope he would come through for me.

Because that’s what parents are supposed to fucking do – Help their children in times of need. That’s what our relationship was until I was around 12. The spoiled girl who was pampered and NEVER told no until she started gaining weight……she didn’t understand why the relationship just changed. It went from fun to weight control and walking 4 miles a day in the Arizona heat. I didn’t handle the transition well, because I wasn’t prepared for it.

My Hero. That’s who and what I used to think my father was. You couldn’t tell me shit bad about him. And due to his “strict religious and moral beliefs,” he would of course never lie to me or hurt me. Because that’s what the Bible says. But not the Good Reverend. That nigga worked 50 years to push his kids out the house at 18, and tell them to fend for themselves. Because that’s HIS moral obligation. Now, where this supposed code came from, I don’t know.

It took me way too long to understand this code of ethics even existed. [Partially due to my mother’s parenting style, because she’s the best mom ever] I was used to having a need, telling my primary parent at the moment, and getting what I needed. Some people called it spoiled…not sure why. Some part of me still felt, even after all the times he had disappointed me – if I can just explain why it’s so urgent that I need his help, he won’t say no then. I keep banging my head up against this emotional wall.

Always leaving a door open, or a window slightly cracked hoping he will be different this time. Because I never felt more loved and appreciated than when I used to go visit my father in Tucson and Pittsburgh. I still crave that….feeling. I write about wanting that all the time. Thanks to therapy, I know the root of that. But this blog isn’t REALLY about my daddy issues.

I know, insanity. The kid inside of me always feels so less than when dealing with him, because I’m still trying to get him to:

  • Acknowledge that parenthood doesn’t end when your children reach 18.
  • HELP ME GOT DAMMIT

Back briefly to Avengers.

In order for Thanos to reach one of his final goals, he LITERALLY threw Gamora over a cliff, and killed her. I started crying right then. Because GOTDAMN! Gamora’s face as she was falling, throwing out her hands and hoping by some miracle he would save her in the last minutes…….

It was like seeing myself on screen. (This conclusion is why I’m still awake right now) Every time I call my father specifically for his help, I’m hanging off the cliff holding on for dear life. He reaches down, and lifts each finger off, while telling me something about budgeting for unexpected events.

That’s how I see my dad. I paid the mortgage on a house that was in his name for 4 years, for him to tell me if I didn’t let my DEADBEAT ASS SISTER move in (and pay no rent or contribute to the household….did I mention shes is 22 years older than me) he would sell the house, and I would be homeless. This was of course about a WEEK after I had a Grand Mal Seizure at the gym and dislocated my shoulder. And my mom was already staying there to help me recover FROM A FUCKING SEIZURE.

Did Thanos love Gamora, yes? But he – and by extension his agenda – was still more important to himself than his child. I just don’t understand how that is. I try really hard to look at everything from both sides. But my dad….

Seriously tho, Fuck that Nigga Thanos.

I just…. I can’t wait for the day when I can not have “daddy issues” flare ups. This shit is worse than herpes. I might be done tho…because exhausted. Also, I might have already said too much. I had to edit like 4 times before I could post this. Because feelings.

Fuck Thanos So Much

Dangerously In Love….. a Forever #Mood

Soundtrack to this Blog:

It seemingly takes very little for me to fall for someone.

The Convict: His lightskinnedness (It was the 90’s! JUDGE👏🏾ME👏🏾NOT👏🏾

TBTLNY: His voice/accent

MM: Our friendship

TOTGA: His hood ass mentality

Bono: Conversation

The Unicorn: Conversation/His accent.

I share this NOT to call people out, but to say it’s never something exceptionally deep at first. It’s usually simple conversation or likemindedness. (Is that a word?) But after I sat on my best friends couch stressed as all the hells this weekend, I realized I’ve never had an issue falling for people. I have an issue letting them go.

If I’ve looked at you as a potential mate, if ive seen that vision in my mind’s eye, I will hold on for much longer than I probably should. To my own detriment, in most instances.

The Convict was my first real crush. The first time my lady parts reacted to a dude. I was 12, he was 17, and I was IN LOVE. Fast forward to 2010, I sho nuff satisfied THAT curiosity. Even though I knew it wasn’t a good look for me.

I was in love with TBTLNY for like 10 years. We ‘met’ June of 2000 and I was attached until August of 2010, when he acted a complete ass and I gave up. Only for me to almost IMMEDIATELY fall for MM (formerly known as HotNeighborGuy).

MM was 2010…he broke my heart. Like DEVASTATED me, and I didn’t know if I was ever going to be okay. But when he showed back up 6 months later….I just took my happy ass right on back. Only for it to fall apart 6 months later. To the point that I left Tucson. And yet……I’m 36.87% sure if he called me today, I’d answer. And smile. (Becuz I’m an idiot.)

TOTGA were college…….and yet. If ever they would like to roll on back in my life…I’d probably let them. (Yes, there are 2 of them)

This brings me to my point. I’m FIERCELY loyal, even to people who’ve hurt me on multiple occasions. For most of my life, I’ve just accepted that. That’s who I am, I’m always there. Part of it has been attributable to my zodiac sign…the other I’ve just assumed was Daddy Issues. I’ve just…….lived with this character flaw.

Because that’s what it is, a flaw. I can cut off a female in a heartbeat if she does anything that violates my personal code of ethics. I’ve cut off family members, CLOSE family members when I felt they’ve violated my trust. I stopped talking to my mom for like a month when I started college, just because we got on each others nerves on the drive up.

But I always seem to leave a window open and a light in that window for the men in my life that mattered. There is always a part of me who knows I’m going to let them back in, if they want to. This knowledge makes me feel weak. Because I’m a strong independent black woman, so I shouldn’t have these issues at all. But I do…and some of those listed above have been let back in.

TBTLNY and I….he’s still around. We figured everything out, and he’s still one of my best friends. I’ve known him half my life. We’ve matured together, laughed together, cried together, and everything in between. But that wasn’t because I stayed….its because we both wanted to do the work to fix everything.

MM changed my life, and I miss the intimacy of our relationship. I think I was so open and free with him because I KNEW we weren’t going to end up together. I risked my heart, 3 times, because I wanted to experience him. I don’t regret it, even though most of my friends would probably say I should.

Bono is so much of everything! Straightforward, no guess work, just fun. Weekly dining experiences and amazing conversation. No want/need to label anything or answer to each other for what we do outside of the time we spend together. It’s basically the best relationship ever…..that’s NOT a relationship!

Both TOTGA……yup they are still around, yay #Friendship.

Usually I try to give people advice about how I’ve coped and the steps I had to take to get there. I can’t give that advice today. Cuz ain’t shit changed. I’m still making dumb ass decisions about dudes. Because when I love, I Love HARD.

Because Stubborn & Aquarian Daddy Issues.

Dear Depression……Thanks

I need to take a few minutes to talk about one of the benefits of MY depression. I talk all the time, about how Depression has seemingly taken over my adulthood. It makes things HARDER to accomplish. In order to be fair, I must now share the good sides of Depression. So without further ado, I present…..Thanks Depression!

I’ve lost 30lbs since July of last year. I went from 363.2 to today’s current weight of 334.8lbs. I can write those weights with pride, as it’s the smallest I’ve ever been (since I started actually weighing myself). The only time in my life I lost weight like this, was when I was working at the Tucson JCC. I was working out 5 days a week (for at least 40 mins), and eating kosher.

Which is why I have to say, Thank You Depression!

Because I just stopped eating food. That’s how I’m losing this weight. I have no appetite, at all. I forget to eat during the day, and I barely eat at home. When I do eat, the portions are so small it’s like being on a diet. 9 times out of 10, I always end up feeding the rest to my dog.

I’ve been dealing with my mom’s health issues and living 2309 miles away, so food intake has been the least of my worries.

People come up to me, and ask my diet plan. Usually, I lie. Cuz it’s kind of weird to be like, “Worry about your mom on an hourly basis! The pounds will just melt away!” I feel like, that wouldn’t go over that well.

FitBit reminded me today, I’m just 9lbs away from the initial goal I set for myself 3 years ago. I got a lil bit happy, knowing that goal is on the horizon. Then, I got sad again. Because I know I’ll make that goal. And it’s not because I’m doing it on purpose. It’s because I’m so stressed out about other things in life, I won’t be focused enough to try to stay at this weight. Depression is still there, I haven’t figured out how to get rid of it…..yet.

I sometimes miss when food was my happy place. I miss being able to eat my feelings. Because when you can just eat them, you don’t have to process them. You don’t have to sit with them, rolling around in your head all fucking day.

When you can eat your feelings, you also end up weighing 378lbs at 30. So clearly that wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism. But as I looking at the numbers getting smaller and smaller on the scale, my new fear is that once I’m back in Michigan, the weight just comes back.

So I’m planning already, how to keep this going. Joining Lifetime Fitness again, and cooking healthy food. Actually going for walks on the trail behind my mom’s house. Maybe I can get to my ultimate weight Goal, size 18 on the bottom, and a 14/16 on Top. The numbers never mattered to me, the way my clothes fit did. And 2 weeks ago, I bought a pair of size 24 jeans….and they are already too big now.

Thank You Depression, for being a catalyst to a lifestyle change I needed. I wasn’t gonna do it myself, so I appreciate the help 😁.

2 Day Free Write: I miss the Old Kanye

After I cried for an hour at work, I started making a plan. . . .

This is a Free Write, I’m just jotting down thoughts, because the Woman I realized is my mentor, told me to.  And sometimes I obey commands . . . but only sometimes.

  1. My best friend lost her mom at the end of last year.  She had to see her mother become this thing she wasn’t ready for.  She had to see her mother in pain and hurting, because cancer was ravaging her body.  At about the same time, my mother was going through Chemo for Cancer.  And I was in Arizona.  2096 miles away from her.  I have the greatest Best Friends, and my OTHER Best Friend stepped up and kept my mom together.  She drove her to appointments, helped run errands, basically everything.  I don’t know what I would be, without her.  I’m so grateful for what she’s done for my mother.  But it’s getting to me today.  Being away from her, is getting to me.  I’ve been in Arizona for 9 years, and this is the 2nd time I’m seriously considering leaving.  Because THAT’S MY MOTHER. And when I was sick, she dropped everything and came here for me.  I should have done the same for her.  I know all the practical reasons why I didn’t, but I should have.  I think, I feel guilty that I didn’t come home.  I know most of my family judges me because of it.  I had already assumed it, but it was confirmed over the holidays.  I just . . . hate having to acknowledge that my mother is going to die.  I can’t even IMAGINE my life without her in it.  I’ve been her life, since I was born.  I have so many hopes and dreams for my mother.  I want her to live a carefree life, at least 5 years.  So i can see my mother without the struggle.  Cuz it’s been a struggle much more often than it’s not.  My mother DESERVES better life.  I want to give that to her.  Because i couldn’t thank her enough for everything she’s done for me.  IF i wrote it a million times a day, it wouldn’t be enough. I’m almost at the point where I want to beg God, Please Please Please let me have this option.  And that’s selfish.  I understand that.  Everything has a reason, everything happens for a reason.  But Please Please Please God, help me help my mom to live her best life.  Please.
  2. I think I’ve met the person who is going to be my male companion for the rest of my life. Or rather, one of them.  That’s weird.  But he’s . . . . stable. That’s all I’m gonna say about that.  Because . . . . NO.
  3. Drugs are amazing.  LEGAL Drugs are amazing.  They make life easier to handle.  Everything in moderation tho.  I’m low-key worried about my . . . dependence on sleep helpers.  Like, am I going to live the rest of my life unable to sleep without some type of medicinal help?
  4. BIG K.R.I.T. is Life.  If you don’t know . . . now you do.
  5. Have this innate fear of talking about my personal life on this blog and/or social media now.  I feel like there were, in the past, people I thought were friends who saw me happy and wished unhappiness on me.  I know this may slightly appear to be irrational, but it is what the FUCK it is.  I’ve felt like there was someone in my life, who pretended to be my friend, but hated me.  I think they had access to my personal life, and details about it, then very specifically plotted against me.  And because I was just walking around clueless, I didn’t protect myself like I should have.  I didn’t know I needed to pray about people trying to cause me harm.
  6. I miss #TheHim. I miss how he felt, and smelled, and looked at me.  I know I shouldn’t, and my pride won’t let me contact him.  But I miss him sofa king much lately.
  7. I’ve self diagnosed myself as being Bi-Polar with symptoms of Hypomania. This is because of an article I read on Facebook. I’m probably right about this.  Google it, and see if it doesn’t describe me almost perfectly.
  8. I just saw the FINEST black man at the Club House Gym.  Guess who’s going to start working out here. New stalkee’s always bring me joy.
  9. I’m not a stalker . . . . anymore.  I miss that side of me.
  10. IRRRRRRRRRRRNADIMM. INAOTNE. IAEAVFT, ATHTTAFMBASPHHEAUX . . . . I’ll never forgive that bitch.
  11. I miss college, or rather the music of college.  If I had known that I would regret not making up diss trolls to every song that plays these days, I would have probably been in better shape back then.
  12. People keep calling me skinny.  It’s annoying. (This is in response to my recent weight loss.  I’m smaller, but I ain’t nowhere NEAR skinny and never will be.)
  13. This took me 2 days to write, cuz I got distracted by a guy at Starbucks.  I mean, he was there to see me . . . so there is that.
  14. Edibles are AMAZING.  Anyone who tells you different is a Lying Ass Liar.
  15. Thanx for reading!