needed: mad love

okay. i am still waiting on my sexy punk rock lumberjack poet.

speaking of lumberjacks, i am totally built like a lumberjack…or a linebacker, if you will. seriously. i have “man hands” and size 11 feet. my ideal weight is 150, anything under 145 would probably be too thin for my frame.
as an adult, i have only been that weight once, briefly. historically (before children) i was around 160. which was comfortable for me.
recently i went through my journals of that time in my life when i could have been called skinny (2002 to be exact.) i mean, i was eating well & exercising…but most of my life i eat well & exercise. plus, i was still drinking somewhat actively at the time…so….
i could not figure out what was different, but around the beginning of 2002, i lost a bunch of weight, it just fell off of me. i was super sexy & healthy. i worried that people might think i was doing drugs–that’s how fast the weight came off.
the reason i am obsessing about it right now is because i am all of a sudden at my heaviest weight ever. even heavier than i was during my pregnancies.
it’s disturbing.
okay, so i’m perimenopausal & that apparently wreaks havoc on one’s weight.
but holy fucking crap. i could feel fat rolls on my back today & my thighs are all of a sudden extra chunky.
so i’m kind of freaking out.
i am also cutting out dairy, simple carbs, and (sob!) beer.
i am doing yoga every day (i always do) and am starting to do a cardio exercise daily as well.
so
i was out walking today to get back in the habit (i used to power walk at least 2 miles a day back in the day but have fallen out of the habit since coming to rural illinois.)
& while walking, i remembered what happened just before i lost all that weight.
i fell in love with johnny shipley, an adorable punk rock muppet-looking bartender in lexington, kentucky.
head over heels.
& we dated for like a week before he dumped me for his rich little lesbian friend. however, i continued to stalk him for months. months. when someone tends bar in a pool hall down the street from where you live, it’s really easy to stalk them. & i still get a little tingly when i think of him now, so many years later.
sigh.
but i had just come out of a long & miserable (okay, year & a half) marriage where i felt so ugly & unwanted. proceeded by a two year relationship with a narcissistic & abusive fuck named travis. proceeded by being dumped by someone who said they would love me forever.
falling in love felt awesome.
& apparently, it triggered my body to become smoking hot.
love.
it makes sense.
mind over matter. hormones. all that.
i even dreamed it recently. i literally had a dream saying that falling in love would help me lose weight.
so
i need to fall in love.
it’s been a long & miserable time–17 years this time–17 years of dealing with my 2nd husband & being manipulated, rejected, cheated on, & treated like crap.
i need to fall in love & remind my body that despite it all, i am still young & lovely.

i am re-posting my version of “the kiss” by gustav klimt because i am too tired to ink something…it was this or a picture of mikel jollett looking super sexy (that’s redundant.)

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i struggled to lighten some of the darker bits with white ink.
struggled.
but i think it worked out…ish.

just my second ink in six days. february is off to a very unimpressive start. my horoscope says that my career will boom this week…for my sun sign & my rising sign. so perhaps the rest of this month will be more impressive.

and i am working on an illustration project. something i need to start spending more time with. i meant to work on it more than i did during my minion-free time…however, i spent too much of that time thinking about getting laid. and trying to figure out how to get laid. and then realizing my best option for a little sex was not an option at all because i really did not want to go there after all.

then i start wondering. the world is falling apart…should i really be this concerned about love & being loved & finding someone to love?
but love is all the time.
i mean…sarah connor managed to fall in love while being chased by a kill-happy terminator.
people fall in love during war & famine & plague.

right?

so looking for love during this god-awful time isn’t completely unheard of…right?

i’ve got two ex-husbands willing to come to my rescue. of course, their idea of rescue is mostly self-serving and has very little to do with me. i have to assure the two of them that i do not need rescuing…while i secretly hope that some strapping redhead will come to my rescue.
i have some weird viking/lumberjack fetish going on.
i really don’t know what that is about.
this might all be some perimenopausal hormone explosion.

or maybe after a lifetime of crappy relationships
and always having to rescue myself
i’m finally willing to be swept off my feet.

and then i just want to make fun of myself for being a silly romantic.

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