I lived in a place prior to the first house. I was told this by my parents but that apartment rests in a part of my memory I don’t have access. The home I do remember was owned by my maternal grandparents. It was a greenish color with 4 levels. You had to walk up a ton of stairs to get to the house. I on the other hand preferred to take the dirt path that was between the railings of my grandparents’ house and the neighbors to the left. I imagine that is because I always wanted to do things differently but that is for my parents to confirm. Regardless I thought it was more fun than taking the steps. To the right of the stairs was a three level bush/tree garden. Least that is what I call it. I used to like to play there. Continue reading
Well yea that featured image blew the suspense but who are we kidding? Hello my name is Stephanie and I have lived life thus far driven byAhhhhh! I have been a walking chicken shit. A scaredy cat. A yellow-bellied fool that coward more times than she can count. Granted some of it was legit fear, but in all honesty a lot of it is a bunch of malarkey. Continue reading
Sweet dreams aren’t made of these
I dare you to disagree!
Recent events happening around where I work have brought back the memory of the time I had a stalker. Yup… big girls get stalkers too… granted this one was 61 at the time of initial contact… but whatever it was creepy. Continue reading
He says to me, “Quit your job.”
Confused I say, “But I need a job. You said I needed a job.”
“Not that one. Quit. Right now. Write an email.”
“I’m sorry but I can’t. We need the money,” I said trying to reason with him.
His voice gets louder. “It’s only part time it does nothing.”
“It’s better than nothing!” I cry.
His face gets angry and his voice even louder as he yells, “I don’t want you working there. You wouldn’t even have known if I didn’t tell you!”
I’m scared now but I still try to reason with him. “I can’t quit I just started.”
He leaps from the bed and tackles me backwards to the bedroom floor. Sitting over me holding a pair of scissors.
“Say you’re going to quit or I’m going to stab you.”
I plead with him: “Please stop I need a job you said so yourself. Please stop.”
“I’m going to count to three.”
I brace for impact.
He throws the scissors away and storms off.
Well this meme… in additional to emotional eating… sums up all the extra pounds on my body! Summer can be rough!
My very first memory of bored eating happened when I was about 4 years old. I came home from the YMCA, was watching a cartoon, and I wanted cookies. I went and got the cookies put them on my table tray and I am almost certain my grandmother got upset with me. That is all I really remember about that moment. For all I know it could just be a dream but I am pretty certain it is the truth. You get the point? Continue reading