 I am trying to figure out
What to wear to my divorce It isn't something you dream about As a little girl Getting married wasn't something I dreamt about As a little girl I wanted to sing I made up songs everywhere I went Careful not to let anyone hear Unless I was on stage I drew breath belly deep Sure of the notes that would leave me I wore black to my wedding My recently dead great grandmother's brooch Jewelry handmade by my best friend It was hot Humid I cried during my vows The first and last time So many people would see me shed tears They cried with me When it was over When the guests had gone home The cupcakes had been eaten We folded the chairs Lowered the tents Got eaten alive by bugs We packed our gifts into the car Went back to our apartment Unloaded in a downpour We said "I love you" And we went to sleep Like my wedding My divorce is largely DIY I farmed out the hard stuff But nobody's picking up the check this time I think I didn't think my wedding would be paid for, either So perhaps there will be a surprise in the mail I know there will be no gifts None other than those which I've given myself Those cannot be discounted For I've given me myself A sureness in being alone Confidence in my own decisions Do I also wear black to this? Tall boots My long dead great grandmother's brooch Fishnet stockings Crimson lips Winged eyeliner Femme fatale It will be cool Fall instead of high summer Will I cry when asked to speak? Or will I draw breath belly deep Sure of the words that will leave me? Will we say "I love you?" Or part politely Going our separate ways? A divorce is not a failure It's an admission that forever doesn't exist It's a goodbye kiss To ideals that weren't meant to bear fruit It is digging a new bed in better soil Planting hope where it has a chance to grow Getting married wasn't something I dreamt about As a little girl Now maybe I will sing
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 Weaponize sex as
A bargaining tool In a paltry war and You cheapen it Incentivize chores with the promise of A conjugal visit That probably isn't all that good Just so you can have one more Facet of control Over someone who already does your Ridiculous and petty bidding anyway Rationalize your game of denial When all you're doing is making Fun turn foul Sweet turn sour For what ultimate gain I'd like to be a fly on the wall The first time The second time The eighth time He can't perform anymore And watch you fume at him For a failing that's purely yours Your pink petaled cage May hold him now But eventually he'll break out Call you by your true name Manipulative Cunt  I started by walking. 15 minutes here and there, but consistently. When I had time, I walked more. I'd been thinking about getting into better shape for a long time, but never worked past thinking because it would mean taking time for myself. Taking time for oneself is an inherently selfish act and I had to work past that.I walked exclusively for about a month and, on a Wednesday, I ordered a 10 and a 15 pound kettlebell. The day after, I broke my ankle. I let myself be depressed for three days and then I started swinging. I also did what I called Old Lady Chair Cardio because it was low impact and wouldn't impede my healing.I stayed in the cast for 9 weeks and I worked out the entire time.I'm an incredibly stubborn person and, when I want to do something, there's very little that will stop me.
Once I was out of the cast, I was able to start higher impact routines and lift more. I was careful to do things gradually because I'm easily discouraged if I don't do something well right out of the gate. I tried running and I hated it. What I do like are lifting, High Intensity Interval Training, Power Yoga, Pilates, and kickboxing. Strength training is really important for women. It reduces our risk for osteoporosis and makes us feel like total Amazons. Cardio and range of motion are also important for obvious reasons. I mix all of it up in a blender and it's infinitely variable with no boredom factor.I drink that exercise smoothie 6 days a week in 30 minute intervals plus 10-15 minutes of cool down and 30 or more minutes of walking. I don't do gyms or classes because they're expensive and I'd have to leave my house or look presentable to do them. Those are not exactly motivators for me, but they are for some people. It gives them a reason to be accountable. I, on the other hand, want to look like a total wreck and be able to fall down without getting embarrassed. Comparison to other people is my worst enemy, so I don't do it and I don't put myself in a situation where I would have to. I want exercise to be fun and, while it does suck sometimes, I feel good when it's over. It's vital to start slowly and have a realistic goal. I kicked off in June of last year, but wasn't serious about goal setting for a month. I was a 22 pant at the time and I wanted to be an 18. I wanted to buy pants off the rack at Old Navy. Nothing more.That was met by October. I had no weight in mind because those numbers make me historically insane. They still do.Today, I'm a size 10 and still on the downward trend. If I'm honest, I'm kind of annoyed because the amount of money I'm having to continually spend on clothes that fit is staggering. My goals have long since moved from a pants or dress size to a new thing I want to be better at (burpees, bridges, frogjumps, etc.) and push my body to new limits. As to the nutrition part of things, I've always loved fruit and vegetables, so that's easy. I don't deprive myself of anything that I want, but it also helps that I've never been the sort to devour a pint or more of ice cream in a single sitting. I'm also a fan of simple carbs (pasta, rice, potatoes), but I don't actually eat them all that often and, when I do, not much of them. I would say to never eat anything labeled a diet food. They've reduced the fat and cranked up the sugar and salt to make it taste like something. Eat the cheese. Enjoy the full fat cream. Your body knows better what to do with those things than salt and sugar. Honestly. Protein is super important if you're looking to build muscle. I achieve this through meat, but I also often eat vegetarian, so beans and soy are my friends. A typical dinner for me is a bowl of salad, a bowl of roasted vegetables, and whatever entree I have around. That could be vegan sloppy Joe or half a burger and some fries from the brew pub around the corner. I drink mostly water (lots of it) and a cup of tea or coffee in the mornings. I don't count calories. That's too much work. I do eat everything that's not vegetable based off of small dishes and I don't do seconds. For me, it was all easy and relatively painless. At the time I started, I was going through some major life changes anyway, so this was all just a drop in the bucket, really. It provided me something to focus on when things were kind of terrible and the endorphins from working out chased away depression, anxiety, and sadness. Anger just meant I had extra oomph in my punches, kicks, and kettlebell swings, so that was good, too. I never consulted my doctor on any of it. It would likely have been a good idea to do so. Injuries can set someone back and be really discouraging. Apart from my fracture, I've never hurt myself. Everyday muscle soreness can also turn someone all the way off. Every body is different. Every body is meant to look and behave differently. Find something you enjoy and make time to do it. Focus on the small picture because the big one is really terrifying.  At twilight the stars wink at you
As if to infer they are in on your secret You part your lips to mount your defense To tell them they don't know anything When a marrow deep weariness sets in And the thought of arguing with celestial bodies Leaves you standing in awe of your own shortsightedness You've fought too much Wasted countless minutes and hours Adding up to years on uphill battles That left you scrabbling for purchase in the dust Slipping anyway Never gaining ground You realize That these pinpoints of not so fragile light May merely be echoes Galactic reverberations Of things decades dead You think About the wasted words The desiccated husks of hurled insults The chunks of soul you tore to throw them Maybe the stars do know your secrets Blinking them to you in Morse code Singing them to you in the breeze And maybe you should listen They know you better than you think  None of your names have faces and
none of your faces have names. You are an amorphous shifting thing. Amoebic and mercurial you slide through invisible gaps between my fingers. I cannot get a firm grasp. To hold you would be to understand you But you elude and allude turning in concentric circles as if you were a frightful piñata. I don't hold a stick. I hold an open hand. Just be bold. Take hold of us and jump. Whether there is a net shouldn't matter. If we sprout wings and soar or crash to the dust below we will do it with a whoop. The air rushing from our lungs so hurried and sure of itself possessed of a bravery we can only hope to know. But that air was borrowed. Breathed in unaware its vital parts taken. It flees from us. Thieves. And we We have been borrowed. Our vital parts taken. We fled and found ourselves here standing at a precipice together. Our hands wishing to share their heat while our minds resist the unnerving unwitting bond the flesh would form.  When she touches you
Your teeth chatter You quiver Electricity courses through your veins One finger trails its way up your side Raising follicles in its wake When she licks your bottom lip Grazes it with her teeth You groan Knees threatening to give way There are things she will do to you That will leave you Whimpering to a god you don't believe exists Because she knows what's in your head What you want How you want it Despite your never speaking a word That You say Right there Don't stop Oh please Jesus Don't you dare stop And in that moment She makes eye contact The things you've been holding back Spill out of you Confessions of childhood sins long forgotten The fantasies of blood Screaming Dirt And pain You've harbored all this time Never given voice to Couldn't bear to bring breath To vibrate over vocal cords And she swallows them all The one you didn't want to get close to The wanton tumbling of syllables from your tongue The inescapable draw to her side The craving to make her yours You wake Shaking in the near pure dark of rural roads Your bedclothes tossed and sodden It was just a dream You say out loud As you turn your head And her outline glows next to you Despite the lack of moonlight On this cloudy evening  You drip slow confessions
Like the last bit at the bottom of a jar of molasses Thick Dark Sweet My instinct is to lick them as they leave the lip Before they hit the bowl Deprive the batter of one drop But one drop Leads to another My chin becomes sticky In my greed Lapping up the syrupy flow Like it will never start again Can never be replenished Like this is the last chance to try Because it is The last chance Not mine But yours A last ditch effort To make me want more Before I smash the bottle Stomp on the shrapnel And slam the door behind me I will not taste this again Because I know it's been laced With something that will kill me Slowly But not softly And I haven't been building immunity No antidote stocked to save me And so I cry For this thing I want And cannot have A craving A missing A lack |
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