Jessie:  "Oh!  Are you sure you want to come over here?  Are you sure my stink won’t get all over you and make you smell bad too?"

Me:  "Stop being an anus."

Jessie:  "Oh, I get i it.  An anus is a big stink hole.  That’s what I am, isn’t it?"

Me:  *sigh*

Jessie:  "Have you ever noticed that no matter how much your scrub your ass, it still smells kinda bad after you get out of the shower?"

Me:  "I’m not in the habit of smelling my butt, so no."

Jessie:  "No but seriously.  You can scrub the hell out of that thing and as soon as you get out of the shower it still smells like a stinky ass.  Haven’t you ever noticed that?"

Me:  "Again, I’m not in the habit of smelling my butt.  But I have to say, I’m concerned about you.  What do you do, dip a finger in your butt after you shower and take a sniff test?"

Jessie:  *laughs*   "Maybe."

For that wonderful mental picture…..you’re welcome.

It wasn’t in an effort to eat better that we stopped going to McDonald’s.  It was Red Robin and Quizno’s.  If I want something quick, we get Quizno’s.  If we want burgers, we get Red Robin.  McDonald’s just kind of became this distant memory.  Well Lukas is now old enough that he can eat from most kid’s menus at restaurants and we thought he might like a Happy Meal from McDonald’s.  We got our usual food and he got a McNugget Happy Meal.  He loved it and we enjoyed our food as well……until about a half hour later.  When McDonald’s is fully out of your system, eating it can sometimes wreak havoc on your digestive system.  You get the McQueazies, then you get McNauseas, then you’re just McSick for the rest of the night.  Jessie and I were both basically laid out groaning.  Lukas seemed to overcome the big stuff, but he definitely got McGas.  And you know what happens when Lukas gets McGas?  (wait for it….wait for it….)  He lets McMuffins!  HA!  That’s Jessie’s joke but it’s priceless!

I also just want to point out really quickly that we only eat out a couple times a month, so we really consider it a treat when we get anything from the outside world.  I’m not super-hyper-paranoid-everything will kill my kid-mom or anything, but I’m not all about most of his meals coming from restaurants.

There it is.  I’ve cut my hair again.  For some odd reason, taking my frustrations and my anger out on my hair helps me feel better.  Chopping it all off makes me feel like I’ve been spiteful and vindicated somehow.  Why?  I dunno….

When I was little I was never allowed to get my hair cut, so I had to live with this long, fuzzy, unruly hair.  My hair wasn’t super straight and well-behaved like all the pretty girls and I always felt bad for it.  As we got older, I got made fun of for it too.  When I was in sixth grade, a girl in my homeroom class decided it would be funny to pick on me and take issue with me.  I was an easy target.  We didn’t have a lot of money, I dressed funny, wore thick glasses and had this crazy frizzy hair.  She always called me fuzzball.  I wasn’t the fighter I am now.  I never knew how to react to her being like that because I never did anything to her.  I never even talked to her.  I think the entire time I was in school with her, I said 10 words to her.  She made fun of the way I dressed, my hair, and the fact that I didn’t talk very much.  She was a fucking cunt and even to this day I honestly can’t rationalize why she was that way.  She was fat and ugly (I’m not pulling any punches, she was horrible to me) and she hung out with all the pretty girls like somehow that made her better.  I can’t remember her name to be honest, but I remember exactly what she looked like and I wish I had opened my mouth and let loose.  She deserved it. 

One of my high school friends also made sure to make cracks about my hair.  I remember one time we were out at Eat N’ Park with a few friends and I had just jumped out of the shower because I’d been in a pool all day and my hair was wet and pulled back.  She made a crack that even though my hair looked smooth, it was rock hard from all the hairspray I had to put on it to make it not frizz.  It wasn’t true at the time but I had had to do that before and I felt like a total dork and ugly idiot. 

I also remember you always telling me, even now, Mom that I have beautiful hair…like it’s my only good attribute.  I know you aren’t saying that, but I hate that.  I remember once when I was a Freshmen in high school, you cut my hair for me and you accidentally cut it a bit shorter than you wanted and you were irritated with me because I think I moved my head and it messed you up.  You were cutting and you said to me, "you know, some people lose their looks without long hair, and you’re just not like that."  I wasn’t sure if you were complimenting me or yelling at me because you were so irritated that you had to cut my hair so short.  I liked that it was so short. 

Now I like my hair.  I like that it isn’t like everybody else’s.  I like that I let it be wild and messy looking and it’s totally cool and I now have the gumption to tell any bullies and cunts to eat me if they don’t like it. Your girl is a little sad and lonely, Mom.  I had to do something before I imploded and did something really bad that I would regret.  It’s only hair, it will grow back.  I’m not worried that I look bad because I look bad anyway.  My appearance is one of my biggest stresses right now because I am completely disgusted with myself for having let myself go to the extent that I have.  Look at that picture and look at how fat my face and arms are.  Look how bloated and unattractive I am.  What’s a hair cut mean when I don’t see myself as possibly looking any worse. 

One thing you should be proud of, Mom is that I still have a strong sense of my identity.  I know who I am and I know what kind of woman I need to be.  I know the people in my life need me to be a certain way and I try very hard to be that, even though I’m not the best.  I know I’m smart, but not brilliant.  I know I’m funny but not gifted.  I know I’m loving, but not overly so.  So please don’t be mad at me for doing this.  I had to.  It’s kinda cute, anyway and Lukas can’t yank on it quite so well.