Category Archives: truth times

Headline: Santa hands out boobs in old ladies’ stockings.

Santa

(would make a very good headline)

This time of year is my favorite. Always has been and always will be. Its a bit different this year.

Okay, its different in the way that the Louis Vuitton purse I just got from the Thrift shop is a total STEAL and yeah… the scuffs, but I know how to polished those, No probs!, occurs as brand spankin’ new.

Christmas music plays loud in the background, the candles lit give off cinnamon and spice and warmth, the left-over strips of Christmas paper lay in piles on the floor, and the dregs of cold tea …not worth the sip… sits waiting, slippered feet stretch out on the coffee table taking a needed break, Happy Gilmore Kitty from Hell, crumples and cuddles up inside the shoe box of wrapping scraps, “awe” iSNAP!, while ringed fingers browse online for those last gifts, egifts – aren’t they the best! and, and the songs and the vids bring back some old, …very old, Christmas memories…

I was a first grader and it was raining. (Christmas was usually rainy.) We had to perform for all the parents and the entire school and I was shy. But I had grown tall enough to finally, finally fit into mybigsistersmaxidress! The dress I had wanted for YEARS, secretly of course! It was a little long, but it was mine now! I couldn’t wait to wear it!

It had a beautiful white top part and a long, very long black dress part with tiny white lace on the bottom and red ribbons. It was mine and I knew I’d be beautiful, SO Beautiful!

It was the dress. I don’t remember much about the rest of the night, but that dress made me feel big and wonderful and I wore it proudly that Christmas show, standing there with my barely healed broken arm and the rest of the first graders. ‘Look at me now, I’m the new owner of mybigsistersmaxidress!’ I loudly spoke out through my eyes to all the flashing cameras.

New. Looking at my life in a new way, a new perspective, new whatevs. So what do I look like to me, wearing the same skin, the same clothes, doing the same things every year, nothings changed, not that much and what’s different this time?

What I’m seeing is me, Me. Newly.

Me with Love, and Kindness and Tenderness. Loving me, all of me as I’ve not ever done. Making myself right, instead of wrong, giving me power and success and freedom to Be Me, everywhere, all the time!

What I’m creating is a new view of me, of who I am, seeing me fresh and radiant and loving life, filled with joy and inner beauty. I’ve taken a 6 month journey of self exploration, discovery, of treating myself with all those things I wanted deep down, like qualities missing from a relationship or just what I’ve been looking for and not finding.

Sexlessdetoxathon. Abstinence from sex, coffee and alcohol. (Coffee is the Big One!)

Its begun.

There are a few women jumpin’ on the wagon with me and we are out to create who we are, being powerful women, whole, complete and free to Be. Beautiful, Amazing, Loving, Tender and Kind, wearing our big girl panties.

This Christmas is different in that it is me, filling out myownbeautifulmaxidress and wearing it newly.

Spoil Alert: The package may still look the same on the outside. (No gift-wrap option, however I did hear Santa is handing out boobs for Christmas!)


the pleasure of living ~

The question hung in the air between them, like a cartoon cloud with the words in bold.
‘”Why did you marry my Dad?” There was pain and anger in his eyes as he looked at her with his fists at his sides.
She looked at him, love and tenderness sparkling in her smile as she said,” Oh honey, it was the War! All of us girls married the soldiers going off to War. We knew they wouldn’t make it! It was the least we could do, to carry on their name.” She smiled and opened her arms. He hesitated and walked in, wrapping his arms around her waist, burring his blond head in her apron. Bright teary green eyes looked up and he nodded. He finally understood why his Mom was so happy.
“Every day is a reminder of our freedom, because of what your Dad did. And I would dishonor him and his sacrifice, if I didn’t live my life as happy as I could and loving every minute of it!” She wiped tears off his face and kissed his forehead.
He was looking like his dad more every day, she had said, and that made it ok now. He would never know him, never see him, but he would live every day, with his Dad’s name and the love and respect his Mom had for the man of valor, going off to war. It was ok now, to smile, to laugh, to live.


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