Silver Linings and Fucking Snow

Fucking snow.

Fucking fucking fuckity fuck fucker fuck snow. Bastard snow I curse you with every fibre of my being.

Why yes I am sick of the snow, how could you tell? It's been snowing for the last 693 fucking days. It's like snowfuckingpalooza and let me tell you it's getting old fast. I'm sure if I went back in my archives I'd probably find an almost identical post at this time last year. One where I threatened to punch all the skiers in the vagina and shove their poles up their arse. (No offense to any of my darling readers who might enjoy such a passtime).

At this moment I am stuck sideways in my driveway. Don't ask me how I ended up sideways...I am just THAT good people. It is 11:07 and my day is just NOW ending. I have been on the go since 6:15 this morning. Stab me in the face please.

My heart is still broken but let me tell you cursing like a crazy psychotic bitch who's forgotten to take her meds certainly makes me feel better. That and your comments. You guys are just the best damn bunch of people in the world. I say so so it must be true, right?

It was two weeks ago today that he told me he loved me. How do you go from that to this in two weeks? I don't understand. I just sit here and try to make sense of it all ... and no matter how many tears fall or how much I think - it doesn't. It doesn't make sense. I sent him a text yesterday morning, it said "I love you, I miss you" and he ignored it. He has never ignored a text I've sent him.

So the rat fink bastard has been deleted from my fucking phone and at the first opportunity I'm going to bitch slap the fucker like he's never been bitch slapped before. I'll take pictures and share with you.

Excuse me while I get another kleenex. I've cried so much over the last four days my fingertips are shrivelled up. One would think the amount of wine I've been drinking would keep me from getting dehydrated.

He's not a rat fink bastard. Truth be told if he were to walk in my door right now, I don't know that I wouldn't just fall into his arms like the lily ass bitch that I am. But he has been deleted from my phone. Every loving text, every sweet nothing, every picture of sunsets in New Hampshire and his smiling face have been deleted. They are all gone. My heart shattered in a million pieces doing it but it was the only way I could keep from contacting him. I don't have his number memorized. No number prevents me from making an ass of myself. I do have some pride left.

So the continual crying has stopped. Now it's just moments where I'll be driving along feeling part human again and I'll have a vivid flashback of something he said, or the way he looked at me and it's like someone punched me in the sternum. When does that stop?

The silver lining, I bought a pair of pants today in size 5. Size 5 people!!! I haven't worn size five since I was ....well probably five years old. Now before you go apeshit on my ass and tell me I'm not looking after myself I need to tell you this is what happens to me when I get stressed like this. It's happened twice before; when my mother died and when I left my husband. I rate my stress level by the amount of weight that falls off me. This would be a quadzillion and one on the richter scale. But I'm wearing a size five...GO ME!!

I will be ok, I will be ok, I will be ok. Fake it till you make it, right?