I’ve come to realize that you all must think that life here at the Bold Casa is all sunshine and rainbows because, really, when do I ever say it is anything otherwise?
One thing I’ve kept away from ever writing about…wait. No.
There are many things I don’t write about because, in my brilliant plan to start a blog, I openly told everybody and my brothers…and mom…and friends and extended family and anyone else who knew me ‘in the flesh’ about this little place I call home.
More like a house of glass windows is what it is.
I didn’t realize how making myself *known* in he blog world would limit me at the time. It completely restricts what I can say and what I can talk about. I have to make sure I’m not hurting someone – inadvertently or not. I’m constantly walking on eggshells.
I’m relegated to the sunshine and rainbows.
And I hate being put in a box.
Except…I put myself in this box. I did this with my decision to not be anonymous – no one else.
I can’t, or, more accurately, do not allow myself, to talk about the stormy clouds that go on in my life…and I definitely have stormy clouds.
There will always dark patches and rough spots and hard times in life. If I said otherwise, I’d be lying or delusional.
DO YOU KNOW HOW BADLY I WANT TO TALK ABOUT THESE THINGS?….but…can’t?
There is something completely different about writing in a journal that no one will ever read versus writing something that anyone can peruse. I can’t really explain why it is different. It just is.
I mean, for example, one of my current stormy clouds that I can probably get away with saying and not completely stepping on toes?
Attractiveness and pregnancy and marriage.
None of those things go together.
I realize some women feel more beautiful than ever in their whole entire lives while they’re knocked up.
To those women, I say: Suck it.
I feel like a big, lumbering hoss who isn’t desirable to anyone. At all.
The belly now grows by the minute, so this feeling isn’t getting easier to deal with. It’s getting harder. And as each day passes, I’m sucked farther down into the vacuum of undesirable.
I’m not saying I don’t marvel at the miracle that’s going inside of my uterus, here. I am.
It is absolutely incredible and wonderful and almost impossible to believe that I CAN GROW HUMANS.
Maybe if it was just the sprout and I, I may feel less…cowish…but it isn’t. There is someone else here in this…because isn’t that what marriage is all about?
Now, don’t get me wrong.
I’m extremely happy he is here, but the woman part of me still wants to be seen as some kind of desired sexual being and THAT ISN’T HAPPENING WHEN YOU HAVE TO GRUNT EVERY TIME YOU CHANGE POSITIONS.
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