Tourette's

How much effort would it take to convince you all that I have acquired frontal lobe damage or a rare symptom of Tourette's? "Oh, so sorry, that's the coprolalia speaking." I can already feel the warm satisfaction that would come with allowing a stream of unrestrained word vomit to pass my lips. I experimented some last week; calling one of my captors a "fucking bitch." It was immensely fulfilling in the moment, unfortunately I possess a conscience that holds me to cleaning up after my verbal leakage. Not all that I have to say is malicious. I'm also fueled with words of inspiration, useful suggestions, and tempting propositions.
Sadly, everything comes with a price. Good triumphs over evil; I'm a decent and self respecting human being. I know right from wrong and I'm not out to hurt or embarrass anyone. I'm going to quarantine the potential for a communicative outbreak and swallow my words.
But, before I do, just let me say this:

"Try me, I'm a damn good lay."

and

"Fuck you. You're a joke."

Not a Pretty Girl

I've been thinking a lot about my ultimate goal in this weight loss, health movement I've taken on. My thought process has been stimulated and sometimes challenged by those around me.
A friend recently asked me if I ever fantasized of "waking up skinny." Without hesitation, I was on my soapbox and running. Ha, running. That's a loud and clear, "No." I have no desire to be skinny, thin or any other synonym of that nature. I'm currently working toward dropping those words from my personal lexicon. To me, they hold as much negative connotation as the word fat. In all honesty, "skinny" evokes images of weak, helpless "maidens" who lack the ability to fend for themselves, "kittens" who need protection and rescue. Skinny would be a completely unrealistic goal and the desire to be so would only set me up for crushing failure. I am aware of my desires and limitations; my mind and body are not designed for "skinny."
So what do I want to be when I grow down? My fantasy: To look like freakin' Jordan O'Neill (G.I. Jane) or Ellen Ripley (Alien). Keep in mind, I said fantasy. Realistically I simply want to be healthy, athletic, fit and confident. However, the capability of kicking someones ass when necessary would be pretty sweet.
Today the same friend mentioned that she belly danced un-inebriated in public. I love that. She too struggles with self confidence and she expressed feeling empowered and free for doing something so outside of her comfort zone. So what empowers me? Obviously running, but also, blurring that line separating what are thought to be feminine or masculine activities. In the past few weeks I've spent a bit of time with the boys in the Industrial Arts classroom. It's hugely satisfying to demonstrate that, in fact, some girls actually know how to handle a hand-held router and know the difference between a cheese grater file and a rasp.
Today, I spent at least a half an hour hacking away at an 8ft long, 2ft high block of ice with a forty pound ice chisel. Why? Because my father unfortunately is no longer capable of that type of physical labor. Because he suggested that the job wait until the Other Half came home from work. Because, "I'm not a maiden fair and I am not a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere."