Health and Beauty

I went into the waiting room and only waited for around 5 minutes until my name was called. I wend down a corridor and to the right where I was weighed. The lady, who was kind despite her lack of a personality, also took my height, blood pressure, pulse and also tested my eye sight. I was then put into my own room down another hall and to the right.

She asked a few simple questions and told me to get into the hospital gown and the doctor would be in within a few minutes. I had forms with me for college which she set down for Doctor Verre to fill out when he arrived. I hadn't seen him in forever. He was Korean and pretty amusing. He seemed pretty typical, and somewhat wealthy.

He came in and I was all set and ready to undergo routine maintenance, like a car or something.

First he asked if anything had happened as far as in my family history. Of course not. I mean, not that I would be aware of. He went over question after question. I responded truthfully on my part, and ideally on his.

He then used what seemed to be a remote control with a frosting tip on it with a light inside to check my ears.

I had cleaned my ears extra throughly to minimize the risk of embarrassment. I know Doctor's Offices are 'judgement free' but let's not lie to ourselves. I know that it's just unspoken judgement. On that note I also did all of the usual maintenance. Shaved my legs, chest, stomach and under arms. I'm courteous, and not to mention proud of my body. I'm sure he looks at fat, smelly, hairy eye-sores all day. And when have I ever been like anyone else anyway?

I then sat up straight so he could listen to my breathing. A lot of things have changed since my last visit. One of them being that I became a smoker. I thought for sure he would know. I was wrong. He then said that my breathing was great and everything was fine. I had to tell him myself toward then end of the appointment when he had asked if there was anything that we didn't 'go over.'

I then was asked to remove the hospital gown, and did. My body looked divine, I can't even attempt to be modest because if I did I wouldn't be giving myself enough credit.

One time, one of my co-workers, Mr. Piggy himself, did have the nerve to call me a pot-belly behind my back. I would go to work in my underwear (because I'm sure people would only be drooling) to prove him wrong, but I'd rather not get fired (or arrested for indecent exposure).

I then laid down for that part of the exam that was most inspection like. Doctor Verre had felt along my abdomen and lower stomach pressing while he had his other hand on my back, also pressing. He did something similar with a hammer on my legs. This was the part of a physical that I never understood. What was he checking for? And he wasn't using enough of his hand for it to have been considered sexual harassment.

Then, what people know what the most shameful or un-manly aspect of the physical was next. Like I said, I have a lot of pride in my body. This should explain why I wasn't nervous or scared of judgement here. Nudge-nudge.

While Dr. Verre may have been Asian, he certainly didn't wear FLAT-front khakis from GAP. He was more of a STRAIGHT-fit kind of guy. I defy American stereotypes by being thin and he defies Asian stereotypes with his endowment (which I only know by careful observation because I have NEVER seen his dick; he is my Doctor).

I am currently in the best physical shape of my life. I've lost weight and I was informed that my BMI signifies that I am riding the border between a healthy weight and being underweight.

This new outlook seems to be helping my current mental issues. So here's to a fresh beginning for Spring!

Rebirth

There was a day when I loved who I was. I loved who I was becoming. I love every thought I had. I was so preoccupied and naive.

My friends and I were people of a very specific genre. As their personalities sharpened to fit an increasingly more specific genre mine did not. I woke up and I smelled the roses.

They were beautiful and nothing like anything that I'd ever experienced.

Usually when people test themselves they never follow through. Not I. I was going to carry thought. On January 7th (which was the day, last year that Ronnie and I started dating), I bought 7 tee shirts. I also shaved my head. I put all of my beautiful clothes in storage, and took my old Adidas sneakers out of storage. I was going back to a time when life was simple.

I have dressed up a small handful of times since then. I don't wear makeup, and I only shave once or twice a week. I've been building up a COMPLETELY brand new wardrobe. I needed to do this so that my new, revamped, not-so-fake personality would be fitting for an equally refreshing wardrobe.

I know it doesn't make much sense how this could fix my rude demeanor.

Fashion and beauty were everything that I relied on. So far in life, they had gotten me everywhere. They got me my job. They got me attention. They got me noticed. Now is a time in life where no one is rating your picture, and they don't even know what shoes you're wearing, let alone care.

I'm growing up. I'm an adult now. I may have appeared to have not changed, and my humor is still the same; I have changed. Inside I know what is real. I know what is fake. I know when to be casual and when to be reserved.

I'm a people person. Whether I chose this path, or a more lucid one, I'd still be adored. I'd rather be adored for the right reasons though. Don't get me wrong though--I love Lindsay Lohan.

I've been fixing problems in my life. I've been fixing every person I've wanted to fix things with. I've been demolishing the people who wouldn't support this side of me.

I want to be out there and in the open. Really though, I don't want that. I'm taking a new approach with people. I'm so good at reading people and reading between the lines that this new way of life has been a great transition from what was.

I'm going to be myself for what it's worth,

and it's worth the world to me.

The Bathhouse

The girls from my lunch table and I were breaking CDs into small pieces in order to make something magnificent. At first we thought we were breaking up mirrors. For what we were working on, the only thing that would work would be mirror shards. In some time one of the girls pointed this out to me.

We were infuriated that all the time we spent on the platform was wasted on something completely inadequate. The girls disappeared into thin air, as they always seem to do. We're never together very long so it was probably a good time for them to vanish.

After this moment I found myself in the bathhouse, I was naked and just freshly bathed. I passed another person entering into the showers as I exited. It was Aaren.

As I was half-way through the main area that preceded the showers I had an overwhelming feeling that I shouldn't be naked. This wasn't until after I had passed Reg who was on his way into the showers, butt naked. He stood there in all of his glory, perfectly toned. We exchanged words for a minute in a flirtatious way yet it wasn't uncomfortable even though we were both naked.

As I passed him my clothes came on me, naturally. The exit had no door, and exited in what seemed to be a school hallway or maybe a corridor to the community center. I saw myself walking out and exiting to the left into the empty corridor.

I ran into Monsieur Colt. He had been previously involved in other chapters of my life, but had yet to specifically victimize me.

I have never seen his face nor have I ever seen the aftermath of his visits. He stabbed me in the lower stomach. He knew what he was doing since the whole world seemed to stay silent. He dragged me across the floor with my head under his arm and his hand over my mouth. He promptly came up behind Reg and dug the dagger into his lower stomach.

The man that Reg is, was not the Reg that I saw here. He was weak and helpless. Monsieur Colt didn't want to kill his victims. I think he wanted to keep them, but that is unknown to me. He had dropped me down, lying on the floor disabled next to Reg.

He headed into the showers where Aaren would make his first encounter with him. I couldn't do anything to help. I was even too emotionally paralyzed to cry or scream. I only frowned in misery.

The ending may have been reluctant. Perhaps Aaren escaped and we were all rescued. Or maybe I'm just naive.

William

I met William a few months ago. For a while I questioned if he was worth giving a name since I never had the desire to write about him. But now I am writing so that his name wasn't one wasted.

He and I weren't really friends for very long. It was apparent from the beginning that we both saw more in one another than that.

In the beginning we couldn't get enough of one another. Well, I couldn't get enough of him. After a period of time, William realized that I was seriously interested in him. After this I then became the needy one. Now it's not that I was needy in a bad way, but I was needy in the way that made him feel in control.

For the longest period of time he refused to talk on the phone. He was trying to build curiosity. He was building up my excitement. And for what? To let me down.

Every morning for the past few months I would text him before I went to school, and work. I would always clue him in on what I was up to. He did that less and less. It turned into me texting him all the time. I was always desperate to try and keep his interest in any kind of conversation.

Some time passed still and I went silent. Things had only gotten worse.

At one point I asked him why he talked to other boys. He seemed confused. I questioned why he called other boys baby online and flirted with them out in the open. He then denied it. He began to question my fidelity which was perplexing to me. He would ask why people like Alejandro are posting on my wall. He knew full well that I thought Alejandro was obnoxious, along with all the others he accused me of being interested in.

Now that we don't talk, he only flirts harder. He only shows more interest. I knew I was an afterthought. I knew no one would ever genuinely put me first.

William said that when I text him first in the morning it made him feel like he was being thought of. I thought to myself, I never get texted first. It pained me to know that I wasn't being thought of. It didn't make him feel thought of, it made him feel powerful.

I confided so much in William. I told him so much, I let him in on things that I felt uncomfortable sharing. He wouldn't even show me his new haircut. That's how little he trusted me.

When these many feelings collided, it started a series of arguments. The only way I could get his attention was to be rude and confuse him with my expansive vocabulary to which his was inferior. From there I would take my time carefully explaining his contradictions, and how I felt. He never saw my point. He never once said he understood nor did he admit to being wrong.

Every argument ended with: "I don't wanna do this any more."

I didn't know how he felt then, and I don't know how he feels now. He's a sealed envelop that's lost in the mail. Some letters take some time to come around, and others never do.

Familiar

I was walking down a busy road in a populous city. There was the back to what seemed to be a factory to my left, with a large fire escape with several turns. Aneta and a few other familiar people were walking to my right and behind me.

A loud and disconcerting noise plagued the air. I could feel it getting dark. I could feel the world caving in. I looked to the sky for an answer; that was when I saw it approaching. I ran to the fire escape as quickly as I could. Climbing several steps at a time, I headed for my escape. Familiar and unfamiliar faces followed as the shadows quickly swept in. I hurtled over a locked gate leaving everything I knew, and everything I had yet to know behind.

The powerful wave touched down and cleaned the streets. I couldn't hear it, nor could I feel it. When the iron door shut and I was considered safe I began to walk around inside the dark, seemingly empty building.

I came across machinery for stuffed animal assembly. I thought this seemed to be random since the building advertised that a new aquarium would be coming soon. Despite the irony, there were no signs of an aquarium. Inside it was dry, and safe.

I had been removed from the building without my knowledge. I woke up in a neighborhood that was forested despite it's many homes. I was clothing-less, walking up a steep curved road.

I was comfortable. The air was soothing and the breeze wouldn't be noticeable if it weren't for the trees swaying. I came across an older woman, who came off eccentric yet easy to talk to. Nothing about the way she looked was familiar but the way she felt was very familiar.

She and I walked very slowly to the end of her driveway, which was of moderate length, and back. She did all of the talking. Her words were heard although I cannot recall what any of them were. She spoke with ease and elegance. It were as if she were reciting something she had kept inside of her for eternity.

I was in her home sitting in the couch for a period of time. I was in clothes that were my own, and that she must have found and given me.

She was later standing in the dining room, which was also the kitchen, with me. A tall young woman came in. She was wearing a long cloak-like coat and large, rounded sunglasses. She was looking in the direction of the old woman in a way that felt evil. The old woman looked through her thick spectacles at the woman in a way that indicated she was notorious for her all-around good reputation.

The naive old woman was unable to make the connection to who the woman really was. I found myself eye-to-eye with her as she held a large staff in her left hand that stood as tall as she was. It had a round top, with a sharp, pointed end.

She raised her staff to me, going in for the kill. I gained complete control of the weapon with threatening vengeance. I raised the tool and guided it into the middle of her forehead that was completely exposed by her pulled-back hair. With that I pulled the staff down the middle of her face. She was without reaction through disarming her and experiencing her demise.

The old woman had disappeared. I was alone. Her sunglasses were removed through the ordeal yet she still remained unexposed.

I released all of the demons inside of my soul in one swift swipe yet I could feel them still running through my veins.

Le Sigh

When I woke up this morning my room was colder than expected. On top of this I have been having odd dreams almost every night. Waking up physically and emotionally uncomfortable.

I went upstairs to get a cup of coffee to find that Aneta and Madame Dupont had already woken up. Antea let me know that it was snowing and blah blah blah. She said she shoveled some of the driveway and the back deck. I didn't really care because I knew I would be doing the majority of the driveway alone.

Today was also payday so I had plans to get my money and go shopping. When I went to go start on the driveway I noticed that she hardly shoveled. There was a 5'x8' space that was shoveled and had already accumulated a lot of snow. It wasn't even close to my car, really.

It took me a little over an hour to finish the whole thing. I hauled ass, and it really did take a toll on my body. I didn't complain to her one word. I shoveled it for me, and she didn't need to know that. I knew I was free to leave after completing what she knows is never a very fun task.

I said to her, "It's cool if I go get my check and go shopping right?"

She replied, "King Arthur called and said the roads were really bad, especially by the malls."

I thought, of course it's the worst by every local shopping center. I had replied, "I shoveled the whole driveway for you, because I knew you couldn't do it. I've had all week off from school and this is my only day off to have any fun."

Of course she caved. I'm broke, and I need my money.

My car was all over the road on the way there, and it was kind of fucking awesome.

Anyways, I got to the mall, and to no surprise FedEx had not arrived with the checks. I waited at the mall for 5 hours and although FedEx had delivered packages and such to other stores, none to ours.

My day is ruined, and Aneta didn't feel bad at all. I'm sure she thought to herself that I was getting some kind of karma for traveling in the storm.

I feel like Jennifer from Jennifer's Body when she hasn't eaten in a while. On top of that I feel unpopular, lonely, and poor.

I'm realizing my inner loser.

Paint

My house was on the corner between Delightful Lane, technically the road I lived on, and Prodd Boulevard. Prodd Boulevard was on a steep hill. A few friends of mine lived at the bottom, while I lived on the top. A few of my other friends lived nearby on Delightful Lane.

There was a house that my friends and I would always hang out at. It was my friend Jenkins' house. He was a good friend, or so I thought.

Now, I can't tell you how I met Jenkins but that's only because I can't even recall our first encounter myself.

His house was a two-story apartment. It had a porch with a large stoop, as well as a balcony. It had one door to the left, and in the foyer, you could choose to go upstairs to Jenkins' apartment or you could go in the door to the right into some cat lady's apartment. Once you reached the top of the stairs you could go into his apartment.

Jenkins was the center of our group of friends, although none of us saw him often. He always hung out in the other room, in the back of the apartment. A few of us would talk and hang out like kids do. I don't remember what the conversation consisted of but I do remember that it was never of my primary memory at the apartment.

We would paint at Jenkins'. The walls were white throughout the whole entire apartment. It had mediocre generic furniture, and had a distinct, clean smell.

Of the few times I visited over that long summer, I remember painting. We repainted the whole entire living room white. The walls were bare and untouched so I don't know why we would have needed to paint, but we did. I don't recall the smell of paint, or the feeling of it, I just remember the cleanliness.

I can see myself, so young and stupid. I was on the opposite wall of the apartment toward what would be considered the front of the apartment. I was painting, alone. In my content, I was called on upon, by request, into the bathroom.

The tragedy took place here. My most embarrassing, traumatic memory took place in that bathroom. It had a plain floor and plain walls, just like any other part of the house. I had no idea that such a disgusting and degrading event was occurring, yet I proceeded with Jenkins encouraging and comforting words.

Oh, please believe I said

Baby, there's a shark in the water.

Or at least there was.