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.

I think I’ve uttered one “I really miss taking self portraits!” Since I abruptly gave up in April on Day 297. Today, would have been my very last day of the project. My last self portrait to finish out my 366th day. What a quitter I am! I really wish I would have stuck it out or quit sooner.

I was going through my set of 365 pictures, and while there was a whole bunch of shitty arms length pictures of me right before bed or my feet. There was also some really good shots in there that I am proud of. I will have to go through and pick some of my favorites and put them throughout this post when I’m done typing.

That probably sounds a little narcissistic, but if you’ve read my blog or know me, you know I don’t think I’m anything special.

When I do something, I always do it to the best of my ability. I’m a perfectionist to where it’s painful almost. If I have to do it half-assed I’d rather not even do it. So, to have these shitty pictures (where the only effort I put into them was to grab my camera) in that set, it bugged me. Then add the missed pictures or the deleted pictures…and we have a big ‘ole incomplete shitty set.

I’ve been toying with the idea of unofficially doing 365 again and trying to complete it. Yet this time, I would take all the pictures I did that I liked and recreate those, and fill all the filler shots with creative shots. Then I’m going to make a book! My brother showed me this link where you can make a book of photographs or whatever, and they are affordable, professional quality, hardcover books! I think that would be an amazing thing for my kids to have when I’m dead and gone. I would love to have a full year of pictures of my Mom from when she was younger in a book. I am also going to start taking the kids picture once a week again, and making a book of them for the year. Then one of my dogs pictures, and then another of a collection of my favorite/best photographs. It’s going to be neat!

So, it’s a possibility I will be starting the 365 day project again. Maybe this week…maybe not. Maybe I’ll decide against it after I start. Who knows. No pressure. No rules. I just want to do that damn book!

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.

So, I brought in a picture of the cut I wanted. I wanted a bob, but I wanted it wispy on the ends, not a blunt cut. I said I wanted the ends to sweep my shoulders. I still wanted it longish…but short. The cut I picked was longish.

She said she would have to do a razor cut, and I know my hiar hates razor cuts. My hair is very course, and thick. Not thick in that I have a ton of hair, but a single hair is thick. Plus, I have gotten many a haircuts where I could have layers with scissors.

Obviously, by my after picture above, I didn’t even remotely get the same haircut. I am not a very picky person either. I don’t freak out over major changes to my hair…and I don’t have crazy expectations. I realize the girl in the picture has finer hair then I do. I realize it will look a little different on my head. Yet, these are two different hairstyles.

To top it off, I have no idea how she styled it. So, my hair really looks like shit now. Proof:

After she cut it, she showed me the back. I always have major issues with the back of my hair when people cut it. I looked at it, it looked okay. I went home. I pulled my short hair through a cap and bleached it. I washed my hair, and went to style it. I looked at the back and it was fucking crooked. There was absolutely nothing wispy about the ends of my hair. All she did was razor the shit out of my hair, and didn’t even make it even. Do I have a lopsided head where stylist cannot for the life of them cut it straight? Am I like a 5 year old in the chair wiggling around and they just can’t get it straight? What’s the deal, Lucille?

So, my brother and Agnes come over and Agnes tells me it looks like an older woman from the back. My brother tells me I look like my Mom. Yay! Just what I was going for! Ha! I totally agreed with Agnes, that is what I thought when I looked at it. I took my scissors to it a bit, and threw it in a tiny little ponytail.

My Mom came over on Friday and cut it a bit and made it more of an angled something or another. Either way it looks better, but not good.

It baffles me people! Baffles me that there are people who cut hair for a living, and have been doing so for years. Yet, I have a better eye then they do, and I can take no education and my huge sewing scissors to my hair, and make it look better then they can with their professional equipment and training.

So, it seems I am not on the look out for a new stylist who can actually cut fucking hair. I suppose my next haircut will be at a pricer salon.

Why is it you look at pictures of yourself with long hair, and you long to have it back. Yet, when it’s on your head you hate it and it’s boring? How I wish I never touched my hair last week. I don’t see myself liking it anytime soon until it is long again.

Remind me in like 2 years when I want to chop my hair again, to look at pictures of me with short hair. That will change my mind real fast.

The Cure was playing that night at The Hollywood Bowl, and when I turned around from my wrong turn, I was stuck in concert traffic. Saaaaweeet! Flipping FINALLY an hour after I left home, I find my street, and parked in the lot across the street for $10, which I watched rise throughout the night to $15, and then $20.

Agnes and I walked down Hollywood Blvd. and took some pictures. That was before she dropped my brother’s 35mm camera he uses all the time. That kinda ruined the mood for her, because she was stressing out over my brother’s reaction.

Then we went to the bar around 7ish. Luckily for Agnes my brother wasn’t mad at her, and we had a Corona. We smoked in the back of the bar…and it was kinda cool back there with nobody back there. My brother told us that we should ash on the floor, and to put your cigarette out on the floor. We were having a hard time doing so, so we used a Corona bottle as out ashtray. After 3 cigarettes had been smoked and ashed into the bottle, I went to take a drink of my beer, but instead drank the cigarette butt Corona. I wondered why it was so warm, and chunky?

I looked at the the bottle I had drank from and realized what was in my mouth. I spit the entire contents of my mouth onto the floor. Which was a lot. Oddly, it didn’t taste as bad as you would expect. The thought that I drank that and the chunkiness was far worse then the actual taste.

I drank 3 beers from 7-10pm, and was stressing out about driving home. I wanted to be 100% sober, before I got in the car. So, that kinda was a bummer to think about all night long.

So, I am at this Hollywood Bar, pretty much sober…I am so far out of my element (home in jammy pants), I have the mornings makeup on, my hair is flat and looks tired and a little greasy at the roots, and I’m dressed for the day time. I was so fucking uncomfortable, I cannot even tell you.

On a normal day, I feel like a fat cow. Like the largest, fattest woman to ever walk the face of the earth. Or at least the ugliest fat chick to walk the earth. There are some girls out there and they are still cute fat. They can wear cute clothes, and have their hair and makeup all done up and you don’t even really notice they are fat. Me however, I do my makeup and my hair, and then I look like an unfortunate victim of fat. I don’t look good or even decent with weight on me. It really makes me look ugly!

Okay, so we get that I was feeling very large. So yeah on a normal day out and about, I am so self conscience of my weight, I’m pretty sure every single person who can see me, is looking at me, and thinking to themselves…”Holy SHIT! That chick is fat & ugly.” Low self esteem much? So, now I am at this bar, and really I just want to be invisible, and I’m feeling EXTRA fat. So, whenever anyone looks at me, I am uncomfortable. I found myself standing facing away form everyone else. Trying to be invisible. This is making me even more uncomfortable. Meanwhile, I am standing next to A, and she is the tiniest girl in the whole world. Like 5′1″ and 90 lbs. So, this just accentuates the roundness of my body and face.

When, I was thin around 125ish…and I went out…I was so outgoing and talkative, and happy. Guys used to come up to me all the time and talk to me. Not that I wanted guys to talk to me, it’s the ego thing…that night, I had 2 idiots even acknowledge my presence…when they came up to talk to Agnes. the other guys who came up to talk to her, acted like I wasn’t even there. I was invisible, because I am fat!

I even tried to break out of that mental fuck I was in, but I couldn’t do it. I was far to deep in it. I told myself, I am exercising my fat ass off…because I sure as fuck am not going to feel like a fatty when my sister comes out, and when I go to N.C.

On top of the fatness. Whenever, I am out and stuff…and talking to strangers…I feel like my Mom! I feel just like her. I talk like her, I sound like her, and I just feel like her. Nothing against my mom, I love her dearly. She’s a pretty Mom, and she’s not dorky or anything, but I hate feeling just like her.

I arrived home close to 3am, no drunk drivers killed me, I didn’t get pulled over…and all day Sunday I wanted to die from exhaustion, and sore feet, and back!

So, I am feeling ultra frumpy around all these girls who are all done up for the night…and I felt old as fuck! I sat at that bar from 7pm-1:50am, wishing for home. Wanting to be in my p.j.’s on my computer in my chair at home and comfy. It was mental torture.

How I wish it were really that fast.

Deep, deep, deep down inside, I’m a good person. LOL! I’m sensitive, but the older I get the less sensitive I am. That kinda sucks. I am lazy, and don’t do things until I absolutely have to. I’m messy, but on the other hand I am a bit OCD. So, when I clean, I can’t just clean, I have to organize and have the spices or waters in the fridge facing forward. When I do something, I do it to the best of my ability. Nothing bugs me more then something done half-assed. I’m a night owl, and don’t like having to go to bed, but I loooove sleeping. I love making things, but after I’ve made something, I’m over it and ready to try my hand at something new. I don’t craft, because I hate cleaning up afterwards. I’m a loyal friend if I even let you get close enough. I’m really picky about who I call a friend. Like, really picky. If you bug me one iota, then we won’t continue the path to friendship. Therefore, I prefer to just have my family as friends. I can be caring & understanding. I’m actually not a very loving person, in that I don’t hug and stuff. I’m not really touchy feely unless it is with the kids or Jeremy. A lot of the time I am really sarcastic, only with the people I’m comfortable with though. I try to be funny a lot, and I like when people laugh. I’m pretty much an open book. I’m not embarrassed to tell someone something about myself…even if it is shocking to them. I am shy, and won’t say much at all if I don’t really know you. I am polite, and will smile a lot in an uncomfortable or unfamiliar situation. I can get pissed off really easily. I am a horrible conversationalists. I don’t know how to react when people are crying or upset. I will feel super uncomfortable, and not know what to say…or say something that sounds cheesy and stupid. I hate talking on the phone, and usually don’t answer it unless it’s Jeremy. I don’t really return phone calls unless it’s important. I don’t like small talk with people, I find it pointless and a waste of my time. Which is why I avoid people I don’t really know. I will go out of my way to avoid contact with an acquaintance in public, because I just don’t need it. I’m extremely moody. I can be happy & joking around to mega bitch in 30 seconds. I can also be happy and then get pissed off about something that happened a year ago in less then a minute. This is with the ones I love. They are so lucky. My Mom has always been a shit talker. Like out in public and you see a chick with fucked up hair and a god awful outfit on, she will point it out and talk about the chick. Obviously, my sister and I picked this up. So I am a total shit talker. I will usually talk shit about people that bug me. It can be just me talking shit in my head or to Jeremy. I cannot like how you look, so I talk shit about you to myself. I pretty much hate every single person who drives on the road that I don’t know. Sometimes, I am cussing someone out in my head in the morning dropping the kids off at school, only to find that it is their teacher or friends parent. So, I smile and call them a fucking idiot in my head. Yeah, everyone on the road seems to think they are the only ones on the road, and that makes me want to hurt them. I tend to say things that sound pretty harsh, and I obviously don’t really want to hurt someone, but yeah…it feels better to say it. I like to think of myself as very aware. Such as, I am aware of my surroundings. I know when there is a car behind me or in front of me. I know when someone is behind me when I walk into a door. I always, always, see someone I know but don’t know in public. I hate that too! That is when I wish I was blissfully unaware of my surroundings. That is why I will avoid them. Ha. I will hear things, and pick up on things I wish I didn’t. I’m not a girly-girl or a goody good. I’m not a happy go lucky person, but I’m not suicidal either. I’m somewhere in the gray.
People that bug me…

• People who think they are cooler then they really are.
• People who are complete morons, who have a flock of other morons, and they think that they are a cool bunch of people all stroking each other’s ego’s.
• People who step up on their soap box and preach about whatever it is they want to preach about. It doesn’t make anyone give a shit anymore, and it annoys.
• Misinformed idiots. People who have an opinion on something they have never experienced and know nothing about..but saw it on T.V.
• People who don’t think before they speak.
• Rich people who think they are better then everyone else because they are driving a Mercedes, and live in a big house…but are complete douche bags.
• Bad drivers.
• Slow drivers.
• Oblivious drivers.
• People who talk shit about or preach about how dangerous Pit Bulls are.
• People who act like my dogs are dangerous.
• People who don’t like animals.
• Fake people.

I didn’t mean for this to turn into this pissy post. I was actually on Flickr, and was annoyed. That turned into this huge thing. I find on Flickr like 10% of my contacts are my contacts because they bug me. Obviously, they didn’t annoy me at the beginning, but now yes. I seriously would delete them, but I like when they update with a picture, and then I go talk shit to myself. I’ve totally stopped commenting on people’s pictures because they have enough strokers, and I get all bitter that nobody ever comments on my pictures. I comment if I seriously like the picture, otherwise…not gonna do it. I post decent pictures every once in a great while. Yet, I will get nothing. Pisses me off. I’m not in a clique of idiots, so I don’t get the ego strokes. I don’t even want the ego stroking, I just want some recognition on a good picture. It makes me wonder what it is about me that doesn’t attract people…which is the reason for my first part of this post. Sorting out who I am. I wonder do I reveal to much? Is there not enough mystery to me, so nobody is interested? Can people just tell, that I am a bitch? Maybe, I release the stay away from me vibe over the internet? I hate the fact that I have to kiss your ass and comment on 15 pictures of yours for someone to throw me a bone on one, and it is never even a good picture. It’s like my nipple is hard, and I get a comment pointing that out. God, how did a website where you share your pictures become such an annoyance to me? Actually, I know my brother feels the same way. It sounds like I want to be apart of the popular fuckwads on Flickr and have them accept me, but I really don’t. They bug! The shit they say bugs.

For instance there is this couple on there, that someone once commented they are “The Prom Queen & King of Flickr”. Oh pull-ease! You can tell the dude thinks he is pretty much the shit. With every chick oohing and aahing over his pictures daily. He says the most asinine things too. Once he had a faux hawk, and he said something about “Rockin’ the hawk!” Then his wife comments on how he’s so hot with his hawk. Okay, come on now, guys. You are not rockin’ the hawk, fag boy. You have hair covering your entire head. You are not hardcore, nor are you cool, except to a bunch of middle aged fucks like yourself. If you were rockin’ the hawk, you’d actually need to have a real mohawk. Plus, I’m pretty much sure someone with a real mohawk would never, ever say they are rockin’ the hawk. Like ever. Another he was working on his Harley in the garage and watching basketball, and he titles it Bikin’ & Ballin’. I think it’s the words he uses that bugs me so bad, like he’s so cool. So hip. Not!
Okay, so now you get to have a glimpse of the fucking bitch Stephanie. I hope you enjoyed. Hey, maybe you even agree with me. I guess maybe anyone who reads this will agree, I am a bitch. Well, I am. I’m nice too. Really, I am. These were just some things that annoyed me.

I used to be able to have a super poof in the back of my hair. It was just trained to do it, and I didn’t really even have to back comb it or anything. It just poofed like good hair should. Then somewhere along the past 4 years, it decided that it hated me and will no longer poof. Jeremy misses the poof also.

It is very apparent to me that I am also not one of the cool kids on the internet, just as I was not one of the cool people in high school either.

I didn’t start out on the internet how I was in person. I was outspoken, and didn’t care. Now, I am almost as introverted online as I am in person. Communicating with people online is almost as uncomfortable for me as if I was doing it in person. If someone sends me a nice email, okay so, I can only think of like 2 of those emails, I get nervous about what I’m saying, because I’m worried they will think I’m a weirdo. Maybe because I don’t translate well. So, maybe it will sound strange to them. So, I’m wondering if  my over analyzing makes my replies sound kinde mechanical or just when I talk in general sound not as warm or something?

My personality is super sarcastic, I will act weird to make you laugh. I think I’m kinda funny. I’ve always tried to make people laugh. If I’m comfortable with you, that is how I am. Being sarcastic online doesn’t really work. For some reason, I’m not funny or witty online. I can’t act weird, because people will misunderstand me and such.

Let’s say on Flickr, you post a picture that you think is pretty good. Sometimes it is even really good. You like it, and it makes you proud & happy, and you look at it often. Your proud of the quality of the image. Then one or two people comment on it, you get maybe 25 views. You know that picture is in a lot of people’s streams, and they don’t say one word about it. People who you’ve commented on numerous times.

Then there can be one of the “popular kids”. They are pretty good photographers, some still just as much amatuers as I am, but somehow they are one of the cool people. Everybody loves them, and wants to be their friend. Then they post a picture of their shit, and it’s like everyone loves it. They “love the quality”, “the composition is amazing”, the colors are so awesome. “God, look at the shadows!” “The lines of your shit are so magnificent!” “You’ve captured pure magic!” Then they have like 80% of their pictures in explore, because there are all the popular kids commenting on the popular kids photos, just to comment so they stay popular. Like I said, it was their shit (Not literally people.), and people are commenting left and right. Even going as far as favoriting the picture.

Then it seems like this persons arrogance grows. Can you see something like that on the internet? It’s like now they think they are great or something…when really they are just starting to get things right. You might get a comment every once in awhile from a popular kid, and it will be on the shittiest picture you have.

I also don’t get people who, haven’t posted a picture in awhile, and they will come back and say”

“Sorry, I’ve been missing for awhile and haven’t been comenting! I promise I will get to your streams soon!”

I think that is so weird. Who are you apologizing to? It seems like they are full of themselves. Do you think there are that many people who give a shit that you were gone a week? Or who are sitting there wondering why you haven’t visited their stream lately?

Or people who post their page views and it’s astronomically higher then mine, and they are in awe, and feel so special that they’ve had that many page views, so much so that they do a screeen shot and post it as a picture and write this thank you, like they are famous…but you know, you’ve practically shown your poo-say hidden behind your hand and shadow to the entire internet. Everyone has seen your tits and your ass. More times then I can count. No shit, you have a lot of page views! It’s not because you are special or a ground breaker.

There are popular people I’ve added as contacts, before their popularity blew up. So, I go search for new regular people who’s pictures I like, and I’m thinking I’m far from popular land. Your digging this persons pictures. You’ve seen some that sends this zing throughout your body. It awakens your senses, and you can feel the picture. You decide to comment after seeing & favoriting a few pictures, and wouldn’t you know it. There’s popular person in the comments. They are fucking everywhere!!! I can’t get away from them.

So, I’ve pretty much stopped commenting on pictures, unless I find the picture really good, and it actually does something to me. There are times, I am in a good mood, and do the comment just to be nice. I would never favorite a picture unless it was really good and I loved it.

So, what makes someone popular on the internet? What’s the secret? Does anyone know?

Popularity goes to every area of the internet. I’ve seen examples on the car forums Jeremy goes too. It’s the same shit. My blog, it’s not popular. I’ve added my blog to so many different sites to get my blog out there…and it’s still a shitty little blog, no better then a blog that was just started a few weeks ago. I think possibly because I don’t update it regularly. Still though, I’m sure it’s because I’m not popular. I’m not one of the cool kids, and mostly I am okay with not being the cool kid. I’ve never been outspoken and throwing myself out there. I’ve always been different then most people, and I don’t really like most people, because I find them fake & self righteous.

Am, I the only one who notices this kind of thing? Actually, my brother noticed it too, and I’ve seen him on Flickr feeling the same way…and he’s actually really good, and actually gets out there on the streets and shoots people walking around.

I’m almost tempted to take off comments entirely. That way I won’t be bothered by it. I won’t check for comments, it won’t even be an issue. I’ve given up on caring about my comments on this blog. It used to bug me a long time ago, now…whatever. Don’t comment.

So, I think what I need to do, is just let it stop bugging me. I’m not going to be with the in crowd. That is because I am so not the type of person to stroke someone’s ego so they like me. I hate those people. I’m going to try to be me, and if people don’t like me, you know to bad.

After I started using Bare Minerals, my acne cleared up. Not completely but there was a little difference. then I bought some Neutrogena anti-acne face wash and moisturizer, and since then, bad skin. So, I need to switch to something else. My skin didn’t even react this bad to just regular body lotion. Crazy huh? I’m wondering if it’s the acne medicine they put in them? I think I need some more Pro-Active. That is the only thing that made them go away.