Kisses xxx


This is what happens when I am left alone on a Saturday night. Happy Easter…hope your kisses are real (unlike mine!)

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F**k the Fat

F**k the Fat

“F**k the fat,” my co-worker tells me. “It’s about the muscle. I don’t care about the fat anymore.”

Five minutes later she sees me wriggling into my red, skinny jeans.
“Those are so tight they look like…tights on you”
“It’s muscle,” I reply and go throw up my salad.

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This is my first premeditated binge in a long time. I have forgotten quite how long.

I plot it while I am still at work. After another day of being haunted by my reflection in the studio, I snap. It is as though it is second nature. I have not forgotten this: hurriedly grabbing food at a grocery store, already euphoric; frantically eating on the drive home, oblivious.

1 bag of potato chips
4 bowls of pasta
3/4 of a block of cheese
7 wonder bars
2 glasses of Baileys

I eat and I am full right away. My body has forgotten how to binge. I purge. I lie on the couch. I watch tv. I binge again. I purge again. I spit blood. This my body has not forgotten how to do.

Then I sit on the side of the bathtub, empty and distraught. Knuckles scraped and throat raw, I sob. Something is missing from my soul.

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Changing Course

Changing Course

A wise friend told me today that changing direction in life is like a ship changing its course. It turns by degrees and although that turn is wide and slow, it is moving in a new direction.

I have set my course for home.

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Wastelands of Numbers

Wastelands of Numbers

I hope today that you count kisses instead of calories.

“Numbers surrounded us.
when we closed the door
at night, exhausted,
slipped beneath the door
and crept with us into bed,
and in our dreams
pounded at our foreheads
until they sank into the sea or madness
until the sun greeted us with its zero
and we went running
to begin again the infinite
1 of each new day.

We had time
to give things a number,
to add them up,
to reduce them
to powder,
wastelands of numbers.
We papered the world
with numbers
but things survived,
they fled from numbers,
went mad in their quantities,
leaving the numbers empty.

For you
I want things
Let numbers go to jail,
let them march
in perfect columns
until they give the sum
total of infinity.

Oh, the thirst to know
how many!
The hunger
to know
how many
stars in the sky!

We counted
colours, years,
lives, and kisses;”

Excerpts from ‘Ode To Numbers’ by Pablo Neruda

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I Will Carry You


For a2eternity…you do not suffer alone.

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