Apparently, I’ve offended people so much that they have kicked me out of every forum I belonged too. After like 12 years.

For a long time now, I’ve been one to drift off, not post, not feel it, feel ignored, be bored with the internet in general. So, I wouldn’t post. Sometimes for months and months. Then I would always pop back in and get back into the swing of things. Always during my times of absence, I would pop in and read what was going on in the lives of people I’ve known practically my son’s entire life, so I was up to date with whatever was going on with them.

We’ll I went to go read today, and lo and behold I have been kicked out of 2 forums. Ha! I assume so they can talk shit about me now, because I’ve never been kicked out before.

So, yeah anyway, Merry fucking Christmas too you too, asshole who deleted me. How about you try to get in contact with me before you just delete me?

What the fuck ever man. 12 years, and I get no notice. That is what kills me. It’s not like I uh, have known these people for a few months. I really don’t see any excuse for that at all. None. It’s a fucked up thing to do. I can think of a few ways to get in contact with me before I get deleted. Myspace, Flickr, a comment here, or Email. So, that tells me that I wasn’t wanted there regardless…and I’m sure there is some shit talking going on.

Apparently, it is time for me to move on…and with my many changes I am going to go through this next year, I suppose that is one more. Say goodbye to all those woman I was in contact with for 12 years.

So adios!

I just learned tonight that she is also a cutter.

I really should cut back on my contacts on Flickr. There’s a small handful of them that just annoy the fuck outta me. It’s like I now see their newest picture and go there just so I can talk shit to myself about them. How horribly negative is that?

I’m pretty positive I’ve blogged this same thing before, probably about the same people. Ha!

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There is this chick on Flickr, and I’m almost postive she is looking at my pictures and copying some of them. They aren’t 100% the same, but close enough to where there are several where I look at them, and go “Whoa, that looks pretty much like mine!”

This picture:

While I realize this isn’t the most original picture, she has one with her husband, and they are both wearing jeans, and black shirts, holding hands, even standing on the same sides, with their heads cut off. I think maybe her’s you can see their feet…and she added outlets to either side of them. All of her pictures are taken a couple months after mine. I added her as a contact a couple/few months ago, and commented on a few of her pictures, but she never added me back. I think it’s because she’s ripping my shit off.

She has one that looks like this sorta:

Then I was looking at her newest picture a while back, and Jeremy said “Hey, that looks like one of your pictures! Is she copying you?!” I hadn’t even mentioned it.

That was for this picture:

Then! today her newest picture totally resembles this one:

Except she is sitting on the ground, tied to a tree with the same kinda rope, wearing a dress. She also has a wheelbarrow thrown in there also, which I also have in another of one of my picture.

Shit. I would think it was just a coincidence if say any of her shots resembling mine were taken before mine or before I added her as a contact. Then by not adding me as a contact back, she didn’t have to acknowledge me, and could take my ideas. Poop face!

Don’t get me wrong, she takes decent self portraits, she doesn’t suck…but my favorite is that I don’t think she is better than me, and she will get like a hundred comments telling her how brilliant she is and blah, blah, blah. I’m kinda jealous that I don’t get the traffic that other people get. I wonder what they do that gets so much traffic? I swear my position in life is to be the least popular human being in all the land. I wanna be popular dammit! Why don’t people love me?

Ha!

Anyway, it’s oh 3:10 am, and I’ve been editting a picture for HOURS. It’s pretty fucking rad, but I have to finish it up tomorrow with a rested head.

Nighty Night.

Do you ever have one of those days or a few days where you are just down and sad? When you think about your life your eyes fill with tears, and they just kind of fall out of your eyes onto your lap? Am I the only person who is disappointed with how her life is in almost every single aspect?

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It is October 23, and again today it is supposed to be 98°. There was one day, I think on Monday it was relatively cool, and by relatively I mean in the mid-80’s. I am so, so, so sick of this weather. It’s almost Halloween, and it’s summer temps. We have had 1 day of rainfall, and overcast weather at the begining of October, and that was that. I hate the weather in California. The older I get the more I can’t stand it.

Plus, today like yesterday is windy, and it’s dry. So I sit here and slather lotion all over my body all day long.

I don’t like this weather. I don’t like it at all. I want to wear long sleeve shirts, socks, and sweatshirts. I’m sick of flip flops and short sleeve shirts.

I just had a pretty bad panic attack. My heart is still pounding in my chest, and I’m still shaky.

I haven’t had one in a while, and this time I am all alone. I think when I’m alone it is even worse then if someone’s home. Even if the kids were home, it would be better.

So, this time I’m reading Perez Hilton and all of a sudden, I feel my chest tighten, heart starts beating really fast, I’m taking deep breaths, because I feel like I’m not getting enough air, and I’m sure that I am going to die any minute. So, I get up and stretch my arms out, which I tend to do when I feel weird in my chest, walk to the front door, and open it so I don’t feel so alone.

It’s so much better when Jeremy is here and I can go tell him. It makes me feel better.

I’ve been out of my blood pressure medicine for a few days. So, then I start freaking out thinking I’m having a heartattack because I haven’t taken it. So, I call CVS, and check and it’s there. So I started feeling better.

Man, those attacks are so icky. I don’t understand why they happen, or what that medication (Lorazepam) is supposed to do for my panic attacks. They come on suddenly, and leave fairly quickly. The pill isn’t going to hit me within seconds, and by the time the pills hit me, my panic attack would be long gone. What’s the point in taking some highly addictive sedative hypnotic drug. I guess that’s the reason I’ve never taken one.

Ok, so to top off the fact that I feel fat and ugly…I go and get a haircut weeks ago. Remember? I think I’ve said before that I’m not an overly picky person. I can not like something, and just deal with it. To where it doesn’t bother me at all. Well my haircut right now, I absolutely despise! I feel so UGLY with this hair. The chick just royally fucked up my hair. Really fucked it up. I am 100% positive that I could have cut my hair better to where it somewhat looked like the picture, better then this chick. If I could take my head off my shoulders, I would cut my own hair, and it would look good. I’m confident it would. My hair resembled the picture like 0%.

Most days, I wash my hair, blow dry my bangs, and throw the rest of my short little hairs in the smallest most ridiculous ponytail ever. That is my new hairstyle. Thank you lady who cut my hair. You’ve done just the opposite of what the point of your job is. Rather then me feeling cute with my new haircut, you’ve made me feel uglier.

I don’t think you should have to spend $200 for a haircut for the stylist to know types of hair, and what types do what, and what kinda cuts you should do on those hair types. I would think that would be common knowledge, like knowing what the scissors do, and what hair colors do what. Call me crazy. I wouldn’t feel comfortable cutting hair if I didn’t know that.

It’s partially my fault though. I knew that razor cuts and my hair didn’t really work well together. However; I also never had such severe, ugly layers put in my hair with a razor either. I wasn’t asking for them either, so yeah, not my fault. Anyway, it’s going to be a long year, waiting for this hair to grow. I guess we can watch it with my 365 pictures.

What have I learned through all of this?

-Do not do an extremely different style until you’ve found someone who knows your hair, and cuts it good.
- Tell the hairdresser about your hair, what you know looks good, and what you know doesn’t work (ie: razor cuts).

While my sister was here, we were talking about how different I was right after I announced I was getting a divorce. How it wasn’t even me really. I quit doing everything I liked to do (cooking, baking, crafts), and I was all about socializing and partying. I didn’t give a shit what people thought about me. I did random things, I pushed myself to experience things, I did stupid things, I did what I wanted, and what made me happy, and I was confident. I was on my very own trip, and everyone was invited that wanted to come.

It’s really weird actually.

I was just sitting here thinking about how uncomfortable I am being “me”…and how odd it is that there were 2 different Stephanie’s. I look back on those times, and think about that Stephanie. She’s like an old friend, you lost contact with. The friend that you kinda looked up too, and envied. There was something about her, that was alive, and exciting. Almost dangerous. I liked her. I want to be more like her.

I remember vividly the time that Chuck said to me during the divorce times…

“I HATE the new Stephanie!”

then I said:

“Funny! I was just thinking about how I LOVE the new Stephanie!”

The me now, is introverted, a homebody (who really wants to do lots of things, but is to uncomfortable with me.), shy, timid, worry wart, sad, mad/angry, limited.

It boggles my mind on why I don’t lose weight. How many times have I said that I am going to lose weight? So many. Countless. I really just do not get it?! It’s like I am punishing myself or something. I’m keeping myself in an area that I hate, that I feel so uncomfortable doing anything in public or around people. My weight and how I look is something I think about numerous times a day if not constantly on my mind. Just going out and getting the mail, I’m positive that the neighbors are looking out their window and thinking what a fat ass I am. That sounds ridiculous, I know…but I’m not exaggerating.

So, if this is something I think about all the live long day, something I HATE, something that bothers me more then anything else, then why in the hell do I say I’m going to lose weight and exercise, and eat right, and the next day I am eating like shit first thing in the morning? Exercise is a fleeting thought. Always ending in a reason why I can’t do it. (It’s too late in the day, I have to do it early. It’s too hot. I already ate like shit. I’ll do it later. Too late. HA!)

I try to remember what made me do it last time. Then I remember. It’s not something I give a shit about now. I remember noticing that no guys ever checked me out, specifically one. That bugged me. So, I decided to change that. I remember looking in the mirror and being so disgusted with myself. That was it. Soon, I was getting checked out. Now, however, I want to be checked out by just my boyfriend. I want him to think he has the hottest girlfriend around, and can’t keep his hands off of me. Not that he has ever said anything bad about how I look, but come on. I definitely don’t look like I did when we first met.

I want to get that fun and exciting Stephanie back, but still hold onto all the good things about me now. I want to feel good about myself. I’m 5′4″ and I weight like 173 lbs. With my height, and just how I gain weight, I look like shit with extra weight on. Even 20 lbs overweight looks bad on me…and I am 50lbs overweight! I just don’t know how or what in the world can make me get in that frame of mind to where I’ve had enough.

Last Wednesday, I got the bright idea that I would cut my hair all off and go short. So, I made an appointment and got in on Thursday. I was so excited for a change…and a cute new hairstyle. I somehow forgot that I am fat, and when I am fat I do not look good with short hair. It makes my face look fatter, and me uglier.

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