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Hooray for Boobies & Other Fat Lady Tales

✏ 38 year old cis female ✏ Fat ✏ Married ✏ Crazy Cat Lady ✏ Opinionated ✏ Swear-ey ✏ All caps silliness ✏ occasional pretendy writer ✏ LJ immigrant ✏ Journaling since 2006 ✏ Ex chatroom /forum role player ✏ Now on Tumblr ✏
elf_fu: (FFFFFFUUUU)
Within 30 minutes of my first, real no foolin' play session back at The Red Dragon Inn earlier this month I:
  • Had a character read my characters mind without permission.
  • Read something I had put in actions and use that in their RP in a very, very, very god-mode-y way.
  • Watched thought sniping abound (from a player that does nothing but thought-snipe since The Dawn of Time Anyway)
  • Been filled in that the Bat-shit insane is still bat shit and insane. And in some cases, worse.


WOW GUYS, I MISSED YOU, TOO.

Where are all my sane people at? Tell me you haven't been chased away :(

IN OTHER BETTER NEWS:

Check out the new post on 2phatgeeks:The Beautiful, Calming sounds of a crazy fat man. Now for your phone!
elf_fu: (Default)
Shawn and I got into the Star Wars: The Old Republic beta, I went back to EQII for a bit and that's pretty much what I do at the moment.

Clean, game, sleep and game.

I'd tell you about the game but breaking NDA can result in being banned from the game. Forever. Like: cannot-play-at-release-forever.

So all I can say is that I am part of the beta. Soooo--hi. How's it going?

P.S. I'm so sorry b_vainamoinen, I am so sorry, I haven't finished your story yet and I will do my best to get it done before The End of Time.
elf_fu: (illogic)
Shawn and I have only been officially married for two years. Although I have been calling him my husband for the nearly 9 we've been together.

We went to Texas de Brazil in Orlando for our anniversary dinner, and then on a whim, Shawn suggested we visit the Kennedy Space Center, because really, what would be more fitting for two geeks to do (at that time, at that place, on the way home in Florida anyway).

So we went and viewed and saw neat space-things, but for me the unexpected highlight of the day was the Star Trek exhibition, featuring authentic movie/episode costumes, props and models. THAT was truly amazing and not expected and something my teen-age-in-love-with-Data-self squeed over.

The small thing that loomed over everything was the knowledge that this July will be the LAST shuttle take off. Funding for the space program here in Florida has been cut off. Florida's "space coast," was built entirely around sending people into space. What will become of it when that stops?


Below this cut the rest of the bajillion pictures of the day.  )
elf_fu: (making smiles)
Annabelle
Annabelle so pretty in pink and in blue,
left on shelf with only one shoe.
She grins and she grins and she grins,
waiting for another child to find her again.


In which I bore you to tears of pain about shopping:

Today was face meltingly fantastic. Shawn transferred over money to my account and told me to go get summer-ery clothes with it. Since [livejournal.com profile] cindy_reddeer sent me the box of clothes and [livejournal.com profile] crystalgee sent me some sexy second hand bathing suits, I've realized that my closet was a mess. I have clothes that are too heavy or thick for Florida, or clothes that are so thread bare and stained I'm surprised how awful they look in the light of day. (Most of my clothes I wear when I putter about the house. They are 'comfy' clothes, so I clean, cook, and bird fondle with them on.)

I still have clothing I wore twelve years ago when I lived in Canada. Mind you, that's only two or three pieces. I have bad luck with clothes--I am the sloppiest cook on the planet. I get them all permanently grease stained some how, or they're just gross. I've tried so many tricks in the book to attempt to remove grease stains--to no avail. I wouldn't wear some of my clothes outside my house to even water my plants. (Which Shawn mocks me for all the time. But seriously! I just want to wear a shirt and not look like I rolled my boobs in a cooled fry vat, okay?)

So he transferred money over and told me to spend it wisely. So the first place I went to was Good Will. 1.) There are so many fantastic pieces of clothing hiding amidst the plaid paisely shirt grandma wears it's not funny. 2.) It's cheap. 3.) Did I mention cheap? Shirts were $3.69 and two I found were $1.38.

I found not 1, not 2, but 3 Just My Size plus sized shirts that were so cute I could have ran up and down the aisle squealing. Fortunately, I contained myself. Then I found 3 more fantastic shirts & 2 pair of loose, flow-ey pants. Both of the pants were green, and the shirts consisted of 2 blue, 1 purple, 1 pink, 1 green and 1 red. I spent some time trying to find a pair of sandals that didn't look gross. The one thing I can't bring myself to want are second hand shoes. Feet is nasty, yo, and washing a pair of shoes are a lot harder than a pair of shirts--so I hit the home goods, didn't find anything there and wheeled out.

We hopped over to do our grocery shopping, skipped home, put the food away and then Shawn let me loose on Walmart--an unfortunate evil that has to remain in our lives because even though we're not scrimping pennies anymore--we ain't fancy. So Shawn says to meet him back in the car and wanders off and I go gleefully pirouetting to the clothing section.

I had my heart set on a good plus sized sundress. I really, really, really want dresses and skirts now. I think it's just because they swish. I want swishy, long, light skirts. Unfortunately, all Walmart had was swishy skirts in 2x or smaller and I'm not there yet with this dieting thing. So instead, I got myself a pair of Capri leggings and a sweet ass top to go with it, plus a HOT PINK OMG t-shirt with sparkly butterflies. I found a pair of super comfortable sandals to replace my old, old ballet flat crocs (which have holes in the bottoms where I've worn through) and a pair of SPARKLY PINK FLIP FLOPS for tooling about the garden and back and forth to the pool.

I managed to make out like a fiend, I think, and still have some $ left over. When I wilted into the car from the 89 degree heat, Shawn informed me that he bought us a real no foolin' entertainment center, more storage cubbyholes and the red and black plate set I have been lusting over since we moved.

I literally have everything I'd wanted.

So why won't the world give some of this back to my friends now, okay? I'm fine, now, we're all fine here, now. Spread some happy, 'kay?
elf_fu: (kittyandmountain)

Once upon a time there was a little girl. She was much like other little girls in the late era of leg warmers, spandex, temperature changing tie-dye clothing and cell phones the size of and weight of a brick. She lived in a far away place where snow fell nearly half the year (or so it seemed) and summer was haze sunflower yellow sun, laughter and magical pony tails.

She had blond hair like her mother and blue eyes like both her mother and father, a single dimple which her father, the King, often said she was given to her by her father’s father–a distant Lord whose demons had long since caught up to him before the little girl had a chance to remember his smile. She dreamed strange as well as wonderful things, sang to the birds, danced and talked to a man in the moon she insisted was there. She told stories to anyone who would listen, cried deeply over the smallest things but laughed just as quickly after. She was given everything she could need or want and never saw the patches in her father’s coat or her mother’s struggle to make sure food was on the table and the princess had all she needed for her tutoring as well as lessons.

When winter came, she was warm. She smiled to see the brilliant hand of winter stretch sparkling-white-blue strong; endless places slumbering under the coat of white. She made men out of it on the castle grounds, shrieked after friends in games of toss-the-snow as well as tag and knew no sadness. She bruised her knees in the grass during summer, ran through fountains in the afternoon and ate frozen things that tasted sweet, sharing them with her friends.

She knew love, this little girl. The love of a father, of a mother, of an aunt and grandmother. She was happy.

And then one day the little girl was not so little anymore.

Winter became less about snow-men or throwing it and more about grades. Summer became a relief in between lessons. And then one day the little girl was a young woman and she realized the cruelty fellow young men and women her age held in their hearts. At first, she seemed heartbroken. Then as time wore on she began to reshape herself in the image of those cruel children. She no longer laughed or played winter or summer but slouched in shadows, was sneered at for being different and sneered at those different from her.

She remembered as a little girl the stories she told. One day the young woman found a musty old place filled with books. Tales written about fantastic places that might have never existed, or perhaps they did and the world–like dreaming dragons on their gold–had forgotten about it. She took as many of these as she could get a hold of and filled her head again with these words. Tales about men in shining armor, dragons and witches, fair folk, elves, and most of all–stories of love. Love between two people that was as beautiful; no one screamed at one another or hurt each other…Or if they did, they always came back together more adoring than before. Stories of great triumph over sorrow, stories that filled the little-girl-grown-odd-young-woman with hope.

Then, she noticed boys.

Then, a boy noticed her.

The young woman drew further and further away from her parents and from the real world. Her head, as they (whomever those stuffy, gray suited ‘they’ people are) say, was in the clouds. The boy and the girl did not find a happily-ever-after, abruptly it turned into what the young-woman thought to be an aching hole. Her parents watched with great sadness their sweet little girl turn into a hungry-for-attention, hollow reflection of what once-was. They ached to tell her to come home and to realize everything would be alright. But she didn’t listen.

She always had her stories, however. She drifted far from her friends and her tutors. She left the kingdom of her father and mother coldly. She dreamed of better things, turning a blind eye to all the paths open to her and sought to fill the strange, open wound in her middle with anything that the road would hand to her. A dangerous thing, for outside of the kingdom were dark things. Dark men and women who used her instead of helped her, who took instead of gave and eventually left her–empty handed and confused in the dust of the road behind them.

The young woman grew into a full grown woman, bitter and chipped obsidian jaded. She did many things to drown the voices of the sweet little girl, the hopeful young woman. She took many paths that were twisted, confusing and wrong. She lead herself down them, let herself be led down them, or unwittingly followed the sweet talk of wolves to find herself down them.

One day she found herself bedraggled beyond help standing at a great cliff. A divide that split down the great kingdom she had traveled in for so long, there was nowhere else to go but down. To the rocks below it or worse. There was no where left to turn. The choices she had made in her life had lead her here. She had made so many mistakes that behind her, even the darkest of paths closed to her. She began to feel herself despair. Until she noticed a tired man on the cliff with her.

He had kind blue eyes and dark, dark brown hair in waves. He too, looked tired but when he smiled at her, just a tiny smile, such a little smile– she felt something lurch inside of her.

“Do you like stories?” he asked her wearily, the sound of his voice startling her.

“I–” she blinked. “Yes. I do. Do you know any good ones?” She hesitantly asked. He nodded, then found a place to sit down. Slowly, she crept near him then sat down too as he began to tell her stories. Great tales about men in shining armor, men in dusty robes with wrinkled smiles, stories about love and hope. Beautiful things that moved her from inside. She begged him to tell her more stories, until his throat was raw and his smile was easier. Then she told him stories. Stories about dragons gleaming in sunsets, proud elves, magic that wove amazing things between people. Stories she had long forgotten but always knew. She told them to him until her voice was hoarse and she could no longer speak.

They had forgotten about the great cliff. All they could see was each other. They fell in love.

But their story didn’t have dragons in it, it had cats. The man didn’t wear a suit of armor from metal, but business attire during work days as per the dress code. She was not a princess even though she had a tiara and the only time she wore a dress was at a wedding of a friend’s a long, long time ago. The magic wasn’t the kind that felled great mountains or protected whole nations–it was the the sort of magic that makes the heart sing when his hand sought her cheek or shoulder in the dead of night. The sort of magic that starts no bigger than a spark and grows into a copper-penny sun warming the middle of your chest a decade later when they looked at one another and realized it had been forever together and neither could imagine life without the other.

Their battles were small, fierce, quiet–often silly–but fought bravely. Their laughter was true. Their lives woven irrevocably together.

He had saved her from that cliff, so long ago. When she looked down at the rocks and though that is all there is left. When she thought there was nowhere else to go. And at night sometimes she hopes that she had saved him from it, too.

Together they wrote new stories in a note book with wrinkled, yellow paper stained with coffee, smelling faintly like her cotton candy perfume and littered with cat hair.

Together, they proved to the world and themselves that when you write them yourself, fairy tales and happy endings do come true.

–And that they really were rather silly together.

I love you Shawn.
Thank you for saving me.
–Mel

Originally published at 2PhatGeeks.com. You can comment here or there.

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May 2017

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