What We Were Thankful For

of course, the last few games have seen multiple women exposed to the joys of hockey--
but that doesn't change m.p.'s hetero-crush on sammy.

The Return of Stretchy Pants

m.p. has been called fickle by the best of them. she is still chasing the red ball, but the pursuit is getting old. i think they'll have come to some sort of decision by the end of next month. but look at my past predictions and make your own decision about how much you want to wager on that.

so, there will a be a (how ever brief) return of stretchy pants. the fact that she knows about the stretchy pants reference and keep good humor about it is reason enough. there are, however, plenty of other qualities that make her one of the few to be recalled from the minors. the fact that she is very pretty helps.

she's still no red ball. that particular object of desire will be out of the country for a couple of weeks.... and then m.p. can start chasing again. game on.

a side note:
right now, flix is playing DIVA, an 80's movie that is one of the most underrated ever made. it is the sammy of movies. if you can spare the time, i highly recommend seeing it. there are some great 80's moments included with the price of your netflix.

Divorce Works on Her

We Love You Sammy

samuel pahlsson is the most underrated player in hockey.

the guy dominates in faceoffs, is defensively sound, and can throw the shoulder like nobody else.

deals like the pahlsson trade help make up for picking up porn stars.

Today

today marks six months on mf.
mp is currently 227, which is 73# less than what she started with.
more importantly, it's 173# less than what she weighed at her largest.

mp cannot deny that she feels the loss should be more rapid. it feels weird to have something she is so intimately linked to (her body) fight her at every turn. clearly, mp's ass feels the need to hold on to every ounce of lard it can. i have spoken, ad nauseum, to her thighs; one day, they might listen.

in the mean time, we just keep hoping for the best-- and not eating the worst.

inside, mp still feels like she weighs 400#. i don't know how, if that will change. it kills me sometimes. the body issues, are (of course) compounded by the new enemy: sagging skin. she has it. her thighs look like they are melting. her stomache is getting weird lumps in the middle where the residual fat is gathered. it is depressing and humiliating.... but, it is ours. we purchased this body through years of neglect. it is my hope that constant rennovation will leave this structure inhabitable once more.

We Needed the NHL Pornstar, Why?

the ducks, up until recently, have been fantastic this season. but, to be honest, we love them even when they suck... and, in past seasons, boy have they sucked. sometimes, though, it's the moves made off the ice that make us cringe more than the ones the on ice.

remember that stupendous trade anaheim made with san jose in 2001? teemu selanne for jef friesen and steve shields. yeah, they gave up teemu for steve fucking shields. it was truly a moment of brilliance.

trading away todd fedoruk (injured or not) and wiggling around to get george parros is a bit like dropping johnny depp and replacing him with ron jeremy. yeah, i'm sure the product will be just as good. seriously. the fact that fedoruk could fight, AND skate, AND even find the back of the net once in a while should not detract anything thing from parros. after all, the guy moves with the agility of a hippo and scores as often as screech did on saved by the bell.

oh, yeah, he can fight.

don't get us wrong, fighting serves an important function in hockey, but the days of the goon are over. players are rennaissance men. they can do more than use their faces to block the fists of others.... look at shawn thornton's admirable performance while he was called up. thornton has game. parros has a mustache that calls for tube socks, gold chains, and "bow-chika-bow-bow" music in the background.

Let's Pretend We're in Jr High

mp has put out a survey for those (subjectively) lucky enough to have gone out with her. the results have been fascinating. really. i was so busy laughing at the way women called mp on her bullshit that i must have gone 4 hours without a single lick at my ass. don't worry, i made up for lost time....

so, anyway. mp continues to chase the red ball. it is very colorful and bouncy, but i'm pretty sure she's nering her limit. the irony, of course, is that the ball is the most amazing toy mp has ever come across-- even though she hasnt gotten to play with it yet.

they did a mini golf date last night. that's right! straight from the archives of junior high come-on rountines: putt putt.

it was actually fun and kind of sweet.... and (just like in junior high) nothing else happened. well, the ball was fun to watch as she lined up her shots, but that was thanks to a low cut shirt and... being well inflated. that is one tight, red ball.

i'm just saying.

the problem with mp is that she has been scarred so badly she is afraid of reopening them with someone else. it makes sense, really. i mean, if you eat the peking duk one night and spend the next three days peking in the toilet, you don't hurry back for more. this explains the multiple survey respondants (some of which i will post here at a later time).

but this red ball.... when it bounces in the street, mp just has to chase it.

after mini golf, mp introduced her to the art of a good mosey-- complete with an explaination about what differentiates a mosey from a stroll, a jaunt, and even a saunter. the red ball was a fantastic sport-- particularly when they decided that "i let you pay for miniature golf, so show me your room" had the potential to be a good line. unfortunately, mp just can't find the nerve to invite the ball to play a game. and the ball keeps bouncing. since this is part of her appeal, it creates a terrible sense of ambivalence in our reluctant, horny hero.

but, my god, it's fun to watch.

and, seriously, "i let you pay for golf, so you should show me your room" really is a great line.

Victoria's Secret...

is that when you take the bra off, your boobs go with it.

Saved by the Borat

mp got out and laughed harder than she has in a really long time.
for a while, all the crap that has happened to her over the last several months was pushed aside.
of course, there was more sweaty, hairy, ass crack that any one person should have to endure,
but the company at her side was there to keep her eyes averted.

sasha baron cohen is a freaking genius.

400/300/229.5

The Thin Line Between Love and Weight

mp made an important decision yesterday.
she's had a secret for seven months. seven months as of today.
every time she feels happy, the memory of this secret pops into her head and poisons her from the inside out.
the secret has taken over her dreams.
the secret has shredded her heart.
the secret is coming out.

people who want to hurt others can do so in a number of ways.
they can treat you badly. they can manipulate you. they can hit you.
and sometimes it doesn't end there.

for 2 years, mp was humiliated by how much damage she allowed the ex to do to her.
she was even more humiliated by the fact that, when the ex decided to play martyr, mp stayed mute because of some ridiculous loyalty/love bullshit.
seven months ago today, the ex did the worst thing she could think of to mp, and my person just dropped her head a little bit more and took it. she felt rage, and hurt, and frustration, and disbelief... but she took it.

yesterday, as mp drove home from class, she couldn't get the sounds and smells and sights of that afternoon out of her head.
she found herself crying and repeating "you broke me" to thin air. why?
because she had swallowed the blame and guilt rather than speak when she could be heard.

the ex taunted mp with what she had done to her. repeatedly.
the whole situation was so surreal that my person didn't know what to do.
and then, 3 weeks ago, she was assigned to help someone doing their thesis on this very topic. and as she looked over the statistics, she realized that she was not alone. she was not alone in being victimized; she was not alone in her silence.

she was not alone in the overwhelming pain and constant suffering at the memories.
when mp broke down crying yesterday, she realized that she could speak. and even though it is emabarrassing, even though it is humiliating, it is the right thing to do.

someone asked if my person's choice of cookie monster panties was some sort of weird chastity belt.
the true answer is that it is. for the last 7 months, mp has been completely celibate. she isn't even down with herself.
she can't imagine putting herself in that position again-- the thought of it makes her feel physically ill. the feeling of someone else touching her hair makes her want to cry.

mp stayed silent because she had all of these conflicting feeling. she still felt love for the person she remembered from a long time ago. she couldn't wrap her head around how someone could do something so horrible to her. she couldn't get the weight of embarrassment off of her chest. the thing is, the weight of what happened grows heavier every day. it grows fat on the anguish it causes mp, and it is smothering her alive. my person has to make a choice:
keep explaining away the actions of someone she thought loved her, or be heard to try to unburden herself of that weight.

my person has an appointment to speak tomorrow.
i know it will not be easy.
but it's a step towards getting herself back.

It Really is a Physical Education

this is the time when it all matters. the next two weeks count for almost everything. and even though it can be redone in 6 months, the obvious goal is to succeed the first time around. mp has been busy as hell. there just isn't enough time in the day, and every morning seems like a reminder that time is more valuable than anything tangible.

yesterday, on the way to a study group, mp found herself with a couple of other students, looking at two broken elevators. she barely hesitated before heading to the stairwell and climbing the five flights up. there was no stopping for breath, and she didn't slow down. when she hit the 6th floor, she really wasn't even out of breath.

two years ago-- hell, six months ago-- she probably wouldn't have even tried it.

mp sat down in the conference room and began taking notes... and in the back of her mind, she realized that although she had never taken a p.e. class on campus, one of the biggest lessons she would be taking away from her graduate experiences was that of physical education. people do look at the very overweight as being slow, sloppy, dumb, and worthless. most don't see merely chubby people that way, but the very obese are truly discriminated against. with every extra pound, we are forced farther and farther from the center of life's discourse until we teeter on the edge and, in some cases, fall off into a land of invisibility.

mp realized that she was reentering the conversation. little by little, she has been finding her voice again. luckily, she isn't too out of breath to use it.

Bouncing the Red Ball

i love mp, but good grief-- what a dork.

she got another date with the only person (as of the moment) she wanted a second date with.
everything went smoothly... at first.
when she went to pick up v, she was invited in, and saw that v had put careful attention into her appearance. good sign. she got the tour of the place. better sign. when they were deciding where to go to dinner, v let mp decide, and was elated at mp's choice. great! with everything going this smoothly, clearly it was just a matter of time before mp stepped in something brown and steamy.

dinner was relaxed but playful. after the meal, v went to the restroom, and mp paid the bill (she knew v would object, and she did...). when v came back, she trailed her hand across mp's shoulder on the way back to her seat. this should have been mp's signal that a little hand holding, a kiss, there were options there. walking back to the car on the waterfront would have been a good time. so, what did wonder skills do?

exactly. nothing.

if she'd had no interest in v, she would have perpetrated some ridiculous moves that (in all likelyhood) would have worked. confronted with someone really amazing, she practically dropped to the floor and faked a seizure. it was ugly. and, as was made obvious, it was not apprecited. mp did try to save face on the way home, but it's really up to v. one good point is that my person always "announces" her feelings. "i feel happy." "i feel sad." "i feel nervous." it's kind of cute, kind of sweet, and kind of annoying. mp's got the olsen twins of feelings.

the thing is.... like any other choke situation, it only happens when it matters.
and mp doesn't know if she's ready or even wants it to matter.
there's still a lot of personal work she wants to do; she is still reinventing herself.
but then she hears a voice or sees a face... and she can't stop smiling like a slow kid chasing a red ball in the middle of the street.

Struck Out Looking

there are days when you are sorry that you decided to wear cookie monster panties.

a date that was supposed to be casual and fun ends up being casual and really fun. kissing leads to touching; touching leads to spooning.... and just before spooning can lead to forking, you remember that you decided to wear cookie monster underwear when you left the house. then you have a problem, because it can go either way. she will either laugh and ask you to wear your bert and ernies for the next date, or she can back away and wonder if you have a bedroom decorated straight out of highlights magazine.

so, while you may really want to make the run from 3rd and slide across the plate (the beautifully waxed, slippery plate), it is often a prudent move to wait and see what the next at bat will bring. wear adult underwear. at least for the first time. then bust out with all the "cheeky monkey" 3D-eared chonies you want. there is no shame in waiting with a good lead off base.

other times, it's just better to strikeout looking.

just hold steady, and watch the date fly by. don't blink; don't move, lest it be misinterpreted. hold very still; play dead. she might nuzzle you a little to make sure you don't need to be eaten-- but as long as you don't flinch, she will probably walk away. scenarios where this is appropriate? anytime she shows up for a date wearing stretchy pants. combine stretchy pants with sneakers, and you are allowed to fake your own death.

another situation that warrants a purely defensive position? overt hypocracy and sloth. girls that have had a bypass and proceed to wolf down more food than an nfl linebacker are disturbing because of the complete lack of self-awareness. seriously, it's ok if you're fat. it's ok if you aren't. it's ok if you diet. it's ok if you don't. but it is never acceptable to have a bypass surgery without making an attempt at changing eating habits and then continuing to eat like a rock star. rock stars at least have the added benefit of meth. perhaps that combo would have been better than having your stomache stapled so that you could see if two pieces of birthday cake really would fit in the pouch... hold your swing; you've been matched against someone who plays in a different league.

Stay Focused

And She Declared...

all of a sudden, i could just be myself-- the real me, not the me hiding a huge secret. and, it turns out the real me is a very confident (but very gentle) alpha femme. i lost sight of this under all of my blubber. hey, if it can hide your feet, it can hide your personality. i can see them both again.

400/300/235

Who Needs Piddle Pads?

last year, mp told me a story about a shopping trip she had taken with the ex.

they had gone to ontario mills to do a little shopping, and the ex was trying on clothes in the gap outlet while mp watched. yeah, my person is pervy like that. anyway, all of a sudden, the ex announces that she has to pee. mp told her to change and she'd have the fitting room girl hold the clothes for when they got back. the ex said that she doubted she would make it, and proceeded to piss all over the floor. yeah, that's right. she pissed all over the floor.

i haven't peed on the damn floor (without being locked inside for more than 14 hours) since i was a very young pup... yet there was the ex, standing in her own filth, looking at mp for answers. luckily, the floor was linoleum, and not carpet. mp, being sensitive and empathetic to a fault, went out into the larger fitting area, told the attendant that she had been clumsy and spilt a soda (must have been mt dew, huh?) and asked for a handful of towels. she then mopped up the ex's urine, rolled the towels up, and carried them out to the trash (concealed in a purse. when she came back, she kissed the ex's forehead, said, "everybody makes mistakes," and cleaned the floor again with a damp towel.

i would have rubbed that freakin' bitch's nose in it. i know that some of my people need piddle pads, but that is ridiculous. and it is far from the only time that mp cleaned up the ex's mess-- of the same and other varieties. too bad it takes so many people so long to realize that you shouldn't shit on the people who treat you well. if you do, you will eventually be left knee deep on your own mess.

mp is so close to the new life she has dreamed of for years. everything is right there. she can touch it, she can feel it, she just needs to hold on and bring it close. either way, i will love her, because i know that she loves me even when i make mistakes... and that is why i try not to make them.

we want to know that someone will eventually love us enough to protect our dignity and feelings no matter what the risk to their own. we want to know that someone will love us enough not to crap on things indiscriminately. that's where the real balance of happiness lies... knowing you can, but caring enough that you don't.

Bundled and Muddled

m.p. inherited a wool, 3/4 length, london fog coat from the ex last year.
it's a size large, and i remember thinking how tiny she was getting when we bought it. it's double breasted, so there is a lot of extra fabric in the front if you leave it open. last year, she gave it to m.p. and told her to wear it open (it still wouldn't close in front).
m.p. tried it on today.
the damn things fits, buttons, and looks good.
a large coat fits.
i seriously remember how proud we were of the ex when she bought it. we just thought she looked amazing.
m.p. can't see herself as being that same size. but the same coat fits. we stood there in front of a mirror, and stared at this buttoned up coat...
and m.p. couldn't recognize herself anymore.