A New Do

I don't really know what sparked this...

But, I want a hair cut.

Like, one with bangs and shorter than my shoulders. Something new and frisky and different.

I don't even know which kind.

I may want to color my hair, too.

Maybe red. I've gone strawberryish red before--I'm naturally a brunette.

I don't like myself blonde, but I think red--not like a fire engine...more of an auburn, I suppose--could be good.

What do you think?

(Minus the slightly druggie look)

(I THINK she has clothes on. If not, well, then, rate this post R. )

Still And Quiet

Firstly, I want to say that I appreciate all the comments and care and concern. I don't want to seem ungrateful, or bull-headed, or anything of the sort--but trust me, this is definitely a day-by-day thing--this processing of my life.

I've been crazy busy the past few days--when I finish this week, I'll have clocked over ninety hours at the hospital. A very good friend of mine had her baby--the most beautiful little girl I've ever seen in my life. :) I get to meet her tomorrow morning--I'm super psyched. Plus, I had my nursing entrance exam this afternoon.

Stupidly, I planned that well before I started working night shift, and this whole sleep in the day time thing meant it felt like I was waking up at midnight to take a test.

So. Yeah, it's definitely been a week of it.

Some days, I really feel like I'm ok. I laugh and goof off and go about my day like I did before. Perfectly fine; I change the cat litter, feed the dogs, do laundry.

And some days..well, some days are a little rougher. Today, I spent a good hour or so on the phone with my best friend. I've mentioned her in passing on here before--her husband is his best friend. Normally, she's all about pulling for us.

Today, she said she was really struggling with being furious at him. She said when her husband talked about him, it made her angry. That she felt I was being very manipulated. She wants me to leave...like, told me she'd hold her peace until I was ready, but she was watching the clock. It makes me feel very burdened somehow. Dead tired.

I know how you all feel, but I want this to work. I know it seems silly, stupid, at this point, but I want it so badly I can taste it.

And, yet--I asked him if he'd spoken with her again. He said no, that he'd deleted the number.

I believe that.

But, I believe it was the name he deleted. I think they still talk.

I feel paranoid.

And my best friend wants me to bail.

And you guys agree.

And, I don't want to.

And, I know I should.

He says I'm not being myself tonight. He says that I'm not being playful. He keeps asking me what's wrong.

I don't have anything to say.

I want to be still and quiet--this is a feeling I've not had since I was a very little girl. Since my first step-dad. When he'd get angry, or he'd cheat on my mom, or anything, Mom always told me to be very still and very quiet, and maybe it would go away.

I always went to the shower to do that. To sit under water hot enough to scald, and let it make all the noise for me.

He's been sweet today. Very nice. Very affectionate. Very teasing, and very like it was before.

And, all I want is to hide in the shower.

Fool Me Once, Shame on You...Fool Me Twice..

Shame on me.

Trick me three times...I'm a fool.

And, I'm still here.

More the fool.

I keep holding onto this dream that I should have let go months and months ago. The first time he cheated, I should have said goodbye. The second time, I should have had him out that door.

Now...God, what else is there? It's too much to leave, it hurts too bad to stay. He was sick, so sick. A fever well over one hundred. His phone buzzed--he was expecting a work related text, and I didn't want to wake him unless it was important.

I checked it.

It wasn't work. But, when I clicked out of that text and all the recents came up--a girl's name. One I recognized from May. One that, when I'd asked him about her then, was assured didn't exist. I was stupid. I believed him. On a whim, I clicked into the thread. Texts upon texts, some as recent as two days ago. And not "hey how are ya" texts, either.

He says he's sorry.

I say I've heard it all before.

Some time ago, I was waiting on a table. They were discussing cheating and what the best thing to do when it occured was. The woman was all bluster. "Oh, buddy, I find out you cheated on me, I'm gone. Just like that. Gone, gone."

The man looked at her, dead in the eyes. Then, they slid over to mine. His stare was scary intense; my eyes dropped.

"She says that," he said quietly, sure as sunrise, "But I own her. Body. Heart. Mind. Soul. All of it. She's mine." When I glanced back up, her face had flushed, but she'd fallen silent. "And, think of this--everyone has a reason for all that they do. And, you think you want to leave? Imagine the next morning. And the one after that. When there's no one to hold you. No one to love you. When you're all alone. Was it worth not just sticking through it? No. If you stay, even once, he owns you. Sure as I own her. You belong to him. Don't forget it."

I stayed once. I love him. I hate him. I hate the insecurity of it. I hate that they have something that I don't. I can't keep his attention, and since I'm the one fool enough to stay, time after time, maybe that's what I deserve. I stayed twice.

I woke up this morning, spitting, cussing mad. I pushed him, I screamed, I cried. "We were doing so well! So much better! Why?"

There was quiet. He kept trying to touch me, to hold me...what kind of safe place is that? One that finds his comfort, his fun, someplace else. I finally caved, falling into the only place I know, that soft spot right between his arms. Fell into that familiar "dance" as Rogue calls it.

"Text me," I pleaded before I left for work. Too needy, too close to the floor. Too weak to stand on my own.

He did. To tell me he found the gun he wanted. That the pawn store puts it on lay away; that maybe the check after next we can get it. So confident I'll still be here.

Probably because I will be.

And, more than him, I hate myself for that.

Fool me once, shame on you.

Fool me twice, three times....

Leave Work....At Work

My restaurant is a training store. Every manager anywhere close to my area comes to train through us. Some are fantastic and very popular with the staff. Some, not as well liked. And, then there are those that are universally loathed by the other managers, the servers, the hosts, the bartenders--everybody.

Many months ago, we had one; his name was Ry. He was definitely one of the latter. In addition to treating his employees like something the cat drug in--after it swam through a muddy river and rolled it in dog poo--he refused to go to bat for them at all. If there was mistake at a table, he pinned it firmly on the server's head. There was no discounts given, no excuses, no apologies.

He was rude to the guests and appalling to his servers.

Last night, he was transferred in to our store as a legitimate manager. I know of three servers who are not returning, simply because he's our manager now. I had thought that perhaps now, since he wasn't in training--he'd get off his little power trip, and maybe he'd be something I could deal with.

Last night alone, we had three hot run-ins. I said some things that were definitely NOT good ideas to throw up at your boss.

He  told me some incredibly rude, atrocious things also.

By the time that I left, I was smoking mad. Unfortunately, I carried that over into mine and Steven's trip to the grocery store. And, I carried all that disrespect home and dumped it right in his lap. I was angry--not so much at him, but more at my day in general--but there's no question that I took it out on him.

And, there's no question that he took his not-gonna-be-treated-that-way out on my backside. But, I fought him. Physically-I stood up, put my hand back, kicked up my feet. Verbally--I cussed him up one side and down the other, flatly told him no...

And mentally--I shut down.

For my trouble, I wound up with the worst kind of spanking. The kind that starts in the corner and ends OTK, not being allowed to say one word or so much as twitch like I'm going to protect my bottom or stop him from hitting right where he aims.

Afterwards, though, I can admit--I feel much quieter, in my heart and in my mind. I feel an easy sort of peace that, unfortunately, really only comes at the expense of my backside.

Hopefully, this will stay with me...long after I can sit comfortably again!