Category: Megalomania

Fat Girl Fitness

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I like exercise. Okay, some mornings I don’t feel like I want to do it and it’s kind of a chore, but overall, I like it. I like moving my body and I like the health benefits from it.

For about a year, I’ve been struggling with my workouts. Part of the problem was working full-time. I wasn’t exactly skilled at working in 20-30 minutes of movement after working all day (I sure as heck wasn’t getting up any earlier to do it before I left for the cube). The other part has been trying to find a workout routine that I can stick to.

FitTV was my main source of my workout. Remember that channel? It’s Discovery Health now. I did a belly dance workout every morning. When Fit TV took it off the air, they put several other shows in the time slot that mixed cardio kickboxing, Bollywood dancing, Latin dance, hip hop dance, and cardio sculpting. The days that they aired segments I didn’t like, I did yoga. It was working really nicely, or so I thought, until Oprah needed to have her own network and ruined mine.

So since then, I’ve really been struggling with finding something to do that I like, that I will do every day, that will help me achieve my goal of losing the forty pounds I put back on after I lost it in the first place.

At the end of October I took another setback when I hurt my knee. My already sporadic fitness routine ended up practically non-existent as I struggled to find exercises that I could do that wouldn’t further injure my knee.

All of this struggling and lack of progress took its toll on my self-esteem. And it’s pretty common that the worse you feel about yourself, the less likely you are to be motivated to be do anything about it. Frustration has a tendency to negatively affect my productivity.

But with the new year comes a new opportunity, or at least, that’s what it feels like. For some reason that symbolic restart was just what I needed to clear out some of my baggage and get back on the fitness horse once again. I still haven’t come up with a routine that I like and that I’ve stuck to, but I’m working on it.

I’m going back to basics and taking my own advice. First thing I’ve got to do is get into the habit of moving again, five days a week, no exceptions. My knee is healing and feeling better. I can do more now (wearing a brace during exercise helps). I need to take advantage of that. I need to move. Dancing (free style and belly), stretching, and yoga every morning should do it. These are all things I like. There’s no excuse for me not to do them.

Once I get that rhythm going, then adding in some weights in the afternoon won’t be a big deal. The one thing that retail offered me was that I could work out in the morning, then I’d be walking around when I was at work at night at least a couple of days a week. Writing, I tend to be planted in front of my computer for most of the day. A little sculpting in the afternoon would be a nice way to get the blood flowing and break up some of the afternoon slog.

I’m a big advocate for fat girl fitness. I give my fat girl friends fitness advice all the time. I’ve been doing this for years and I like to share my experience. It’s so easy to be overwhelmed with all of the information. It’s so easy to look at DVD taught by some skinny chick who’s never been fat a day in her life and think that you can’t do that. However, when some practical advice comes from a fat girl, someone who lives with it and struggles with it and does it anyway, it’s a little more encouraging.

This fat girl needs to listen to her own advice and stop over-thinking things. No, I’m not at the fitness level I was a few years ago and that’s frustrating. No, I’m not at the weight I was a few years ago and that’s frustrating. But I know how to get both of those things back, now don’t I? I’ve done it before.

So, shut up, listen, and do it. No excuses.

The Pretty Effort

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

Being pretty or cute doesn’t come naturally for me. I’m not one of those women that can just run a brush through my hair, slap some lip gloss on, and call it good. Well, I could, but the effect wouldn’t be considered cute or pretty. At best it’d be considered okay. At worst, eh, I’d still be in better shape than if I did nothing at all.

My point is that I’m somewhat vain and I like to look pretty or cute (on the days I’m not striving to look beautiful and sexy), but it burns me ass that I have to put so much work into it.

And it puts my friends and family in an awkward position because I’m so well-known for not being girly and this effort that I put into my appearance qualifies as being girly and they just don’t know what to make of it. It makes me uncomfortable.

It also leaves me feeling insecure. Several of my female friends and relatives don’t bother with make-up. They don’t have to use any product in their hair. They’re perfectly fine au natural and dammit if they don’t look cute doing it.

I, on the other hand, have to work at it.

Never is this more illustrated than when I travel. Travelling with my roommate Carrie is no big deal because she’s the beauty master and it’s expected of her to be carrying all of the tricks of her trade. I can’t compete with her and would never want to. However, when I travel with other friends, my girly routine is exposed and in high-contrast to the tomboy attributes that make up so much of my personality.

I don’t count skin care as girly because my skin is an organ and I try to take care of it. Not to mention I have skin issues that need to be addressed on a daily basis. This means washing my face, exfoliating, moisturizing, using a particular kind of body wash and two different kinds of body lotions. It’s work, but for me it’s the same as doing cardio to keep my heart healthy or taking my pills and watching what I eat to keep my gut issues in check. Skin care has nothing to do with being girly and everything to do with taking care of myself.

Hair and make-up is a different story.

I will be the first person to tell you (and loudly) that after years of searching, I’ve found a hair cut that I love. However, this hair cut does require product. I use a little gel and some sleek and shine serum (every other day), air dry, a little hair spray for hold, and done. It takes all of a few minutes and compared to previous styles which involved the use of a blow dryer, it’s downright nothing.

But it’s not the thrown-back-in-a-ponytail style of high school and my early 20’s. It’s not the wash and go style I had when I first got my hair cut. It’s still work.

And then there’s the make-up. I’ve worn make-up off and on over the years. I’ve done as little as some concealer to cover up the dark circles under my eyes. I’ve done as much as purple eye shadow and purple lipstick with heavy black eyeliner and glitter tears (I went through a freak period). Carrie, with her make-up wisdom, showed me the make-up required for me to pull off a lovely, natural look that can be jazzed up whenever I feel the need. This look involves concealer, a base powder, a finishing powder, blush, mascara, cream eye shadow, and lip gloss/lip stick. To other girls, this doesn’t sound like much. To my friends, this is A LOT of make-up for me.

Yeah, having other people know what I have to do to pass for pretty or cute makes me uncomfortable. I don’t like my friends knowing what I have to do because I know what they’re thinking. They’re thinking how GIRLY it is for me to be doing it and how anything GIRLY is so out of character for me.

And I can’t say that I’ve been unaffected by that. I stopped wearing make-up for a while after a trip with a friend because she commented on my “girly” routine that took me soooo long to do compared to her just brushing her hair and slapping on a little lip gloss (since it was a special occasion and she usually didn’t wear anything at all). She looked cute and with all of the work I’d put into my routine, I ended up less than. After that I couldn’t see the point in trying. Might as well live up to everyone else’s expectations and just be the totally unfeminine tomboy that fits their idea of who I am.

That lasted for a couple of months before I started in with a little make-up again. Now I only do the full routine for certain occasions, but I’ve got a little something going on every day, even if it’s just powder, mascara, and lip gloss.

Because I realized that I have to work to be pretty and there’s no shame in me wanting to be pretty. I imagine that it shakes the views a few people have of me, but that can’t be my problem. I shouldn’t feel bad about being myself.

It’s their hang-up, not mine.

New Year Hopes

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I’m one of those people that is pretty superstitious about transitioning from one year to the next because my aim is always to go into the new year with the idea and aim to make it better than the last. (I’m sure that nobody wants to make their new year worse than their last, but I’m sure some people wouldn’t mind holding pat; either way, neither here nor there in terms of this post.) I always go into each new year with specific hopes and goals. I wouldn’t call them resolutions. Resolutions are made to be broken. Hopes are meant to be had and goals are meant to be achieved.

My hopes and goals are one in the same. I have them and I’m going to work to achieve them. Here are some of the goals and hopes I have for 2012.

-I want to be happy. I’m a firm believer that happiness is something you create and I’d like to create a lot of it this year.

-I’m going to continue the practice of positive thinking. This one is hard for me. I’m a natural pessimist. I expect the worst, anticipate it for every little thing I do. I’m like Eeyore in that respect. Whatever I do, I attach a certain cloud of gloom to it. I’ve been working on correcting that outlook and I plan to continue that effort.

-I want to succeed in my ventures. This is going to take hard work, I know. Harder work than I’ve been putting into it, I’m sure (I’ll never feel like I work hard enough). But, it’s also going to take the positive thinking. Continuing my work with an anticipation of success instead of anticipation of failure is a must. I need to put myself out there more and not be afraid to sell  myself and my work.

-I want to have fun. Sometimes I’m so dedicate to work and making money to pay bills (even when I have some sort of regular paying day job), that I forget to stop and relax and have a good time. I’ve been known to put fun on my To Do list. Might as well put it on my goals list just to be sure it gets done.

-I want to purge the excess from my life. I am a packrat by nature, not hoarder levels, but I’ve still managed to accumulate more than I need or want. I need to continue to get rid of it. I’m already selling some things on eBay, but a full-scale rummage sale is going to have to  happen this year. I’ve been avoiding it because of all of the work that goes into one, but this year I need to put my laziness aside and get it done. The dead weight needs to go.

-I’m going to make some changes. Big and small, things need to be changed. Sameness can breed stagnation and I’m afraid I’ve got ponds of it in my life. Change isn’t easy, particularly for someone like me. I like to be safe and secure, but that yearning has actually had the opposite effect. I don’t feel that way. I feel more like I’m in a prison. The only key to my freedom is change. Just another thing I can’t put off doing for another year.

The nice thing about having hopes and goals is that success lies in trying. Even if I fail, there’s a certain amount of success that I made the serious attempt to do these things. That’s more than I can say for not trying at all.

Showing My Hand

~ Kiki Writes ~ 2 Comments

I’m quite the secretive person to an extent. There are lots of things that go on in my head and in my life that only people I carefully select are allowed to know. I’m an organized person and that includes compartmentalizing my life and the people in it.

This month I’ve taken measures to come clean, so to speak, with my family and friends, the people who know me in flesh and blood, not just on the Internet. See, the people on Twitter and Livejournal and this blog, I can tell them anything. I don’t hold back with them. They know I’m a writer. They know I sell jewelry. They know the true status of my gardening gig. They know I sell t-shirts. They know the crap I’m hocking on eBay. They know just how successful (or unsuccessful, depending on the way you look at it) I am.

The people I know in physical life don’t know any of that. Oh, I share when I’ve had some kind of writing success, because most of them know about my writing “career”. But they don’t know the extent of my cash making schemes. They don’t know exactly what I’m doing.

Unless they’re reading this.

In an effort to drum up some popularity, I made a page for myself on Facebook. And I posted the link on my personal Facebook to see if anyone would be interesting in liking me.

This is a big step.

You see, there are two big reasons why I’ve left my family and most of my friends out of this. First of all, I don’t want to think about them judging me harshly. I imagine most of them do anyway from what they know about my life, but this, in my paranoid mind, is just adding fuel to the fire. In my head, they won’t see this as me trying to build my own career and life, scraping together something workable with what I’ve got. I’m afraid they’ll see me as a failure. I’m afraid they ALREADY see me as a failure and they’ll just view this as confirmation.

Two things I’ve never wanted to be was a failure and a disappointment and I imagine that to some people I’m both.

The second big reason is that I was afraid to confirm what I’ve known most of my life: I am not popular. Not even with my own friends and family, not even for the two seconds it takes to click a link and click a like button, am I popular. This translates in my head as not being worthy of attention or support, something else that’s nagged at me most of my life.

The page, for those who dare to like it, will contain updates of all kinds. New t-shirt designs, new jewelry, breaking writing news, and, yes, a link to this blog, something I’ve only provided before on Twitter for fear of the flesh and blood people finding out about it.

But you know what? I can’t be held back by those fears anymore. I can’t care what they think of me. If anyone wants to back me on this life adventure, then dammit, I’m going to make it worth their while and I appreciate their support. And if they don’t? Their loss. This wagon train will be moving on without them because I don’t have the energy to drag them along.

When it comes to some things, I don’t care what anyone thinks about me. When it comes to other subjects, I do care. I care a great deal. But I’ve got to be more selective about WHOSE opinions I care about. Some people I just can’t worry about anymore. They’re not worth my time.

So, if you think I’m a failure and a disappointment, then you’re just reading this blog to watch me fail and disappoint. I’m sure you’ll be quite pleased with what you find here.

But, if you’re here reading this because you want to watch me fight to succeed, then you’ll be quite pleased, too.

It’s all in how you look at it, I suppose.

So here’s my whole card, gringo. What do you see?

The De-Cluttering Project

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I have a problem with accumulating stuff. Not a hoarder-level accumulation problem, but it’s a pack rat problem, nonetheless.

I come from people that don’t get rid of things if there’s still some use for them. We drive cars until they won’t run anymore (mine’s a ’93 and I’ve had it ten years now). We’re the kind of people that wash out and save butter tubs for storage and keep cloth scraps just in case. We do our best not to rip the wrapping paper so we can use it again. And don’t forget to save the bows!

So, I acquire things that I end up eventually not needing or using, but I have trouble parting with them for various reasons. You know the ones. So-and-so gave this to me. What if I need it? I might use this eventually.

Last year, I started lightening this material load by selling most of my action figures on eBay. Yes, they were nice to have, but they were just sitting in some tubs upstairs. I had no room to display them. They were going to waste. So, I made the tough call to sell them. I cleared out some room in my storage, someone else got something they were looking for at a bargain price, and in the end, I realized I didn’t miss them.

I have once again begun de-cluttering the material portion of my life and I’m using eBay as my garage sale. Do I need the money? Sure. Do I need the space more? Yeah. There’s no sense in me keeping these things when someone else can get more use out of them. And there’s no reason to let these things continue to take up space in my life if I’m not going to make the most of them.

It’s a thought process that’s kind of hard for me to get used to, especially since I am such a pack rat by nature. There’s nothing wrong with saving things for later or trying to make the most out of what I have, but I need to put a limit on things. Consider it service-time limit. If I haven’t gotten my use out of it by a certain time, then I need to put it in the “get rid of” pile. And then follow through with the getting rid of it.

I’ve got a tub full of wrestling magazines. Stacks of writer magazines. DVDs I never watch. Books I’ll never read again. Clothes I’m holding on to for no good reason. Boxes in the basement filled with mystery contents. Why should I let this stuff rot in my house? I shouldn’t. And that’s the way I need to look at it, particularly with some of the items with some sort of sentimental value attached to it. I have to measure that value very carefully. What’s it really worth to me to keep this item?

Eventually (I’m hoping sooner rather than later), I’m going to get out of this house and move into my own place. I have to ask myself how much of this material life do I want to take with me? Do I want this stuff cluttering up my new world? Do I really want to move this stuff (the lazy person in me screams “no” when it comes to that question; I hate moving)?

It’s best that I start purging now. And it’s best that I get into the habit of purging now. I’ve got to get out of the rhythm of looking at something I’ve had for twenty years, forgot that I had, and then put away once again, just in case I might need it.

I won’t need it. But someone might.

Time to let it go.

Fat Girl Style

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I am known as a tomboy, which isn’t a bad label to have. I earned it.

I’m low maintenance. I favor jeans and t-shirts. My obsession with shoes begins and ends with Chuck Taylors. I own exactly two purses and I rarely use them. The concept of spending hours on my hair and make-up is foreign to me. I really don’t like shopping, unless it’s of the online variety. I don’t try clothes on before I buy them, usually.

But none of that means I don’t have style. Oh, honey, I have LOADS of style.

Don’t let my aversion to shopping and trying on clothes fool you. I actually love fashion. Not runway fashion. I’m talking realistic, off the rack fashion. I’m talking about putting together pieces that work together and flatter my body. Granted, it’s not always easy. After all, it’s a sin in this country to be fat and laws forbid if you want to be fashionable and fat at the same time. But I have my ways and my stores.

Torrid, Wal-Mart, Old Navy, and Target are my go-to’s when I’m in the market for something new.

Torrid is more high-end and caters specifically to plus-size. They GET fat girl style. They’ve got gorgeous clothes that keep up with the trends. They don’t shy away from sexy or edgy.

Old Navy also has a decent selection of plus-sized clothes (that are only available online, the only downside if you’d rather shop in-store). They’re good with the trends as well and have a good selection of casual clothes and basics that belong in any wardrobe.

I know most of you are raising an eyebrow at Wal-Mart and Target, but for cheap staples, they are the way to go. Wal-Mart is where I like to get my jeans and I got my favorite Capri pants at Target. And both places also have a decent online selection of plus-sized clothes if they don’t satisfy in-store.

I have a diverse style. I try to balance edgy and punky with classic and casual. It depends on my mood. Sometimes, I want to look more sophisticated. Sometimes, I want to look more rock ‘n’ roll. I like having the option to dress to match my moods.

My make-up is usually pretty simple and natural, but I’ve got options to spice it up if I want. Red lipstick usually does the trick. If I actually want to spend a few extra minutes, I’ll put a little more effort into my eye shadow configuration.

I prefer my hairstyle to be as wash and go as possible. As it is now, I just need a little gel, some scrunching, and it dries into the rock ‘n’ roll, messy style I like to rock. Keeping it short has really helped get as much personality as I can out of my hair.

You put all of this together and I’ve got some serious fat girl style.

Unfortunately, as I’ve gone on about my wonderful style I’ve circumvented the truth that my style is several years out of date due to lack of funds. I’m working with what I have, of course, but that doesn’t mean I’m not wishing for new clothes and filling up my wishlists in the event I come into money.

If ever there were a time for Santa to come down my chimney…

Until then, we’re adding “vintage” to my style choices.

The Fiction Writing Life

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I’m sure I made a post about this before for Writing Wednesday, but I think it bears repeating for a Monday Megalomania because I feel that people not acquainted with writing for a living, or at least writing for publication, don’t understand how it works.

Most people that have a job leave their house, go to a place of work, make so much money an hour, come home and get a paycheck, either weekly or bi-weekly. Obviously, some people don’t have to leave their house. Some people are on salary. But whatever the variations, the basics remain the same. These are considered legitimate jobs.

I, on the other hand, am trying to cobble together some kind of day job out of selling Rejected, selling my jewelry, working jobs with DaLette, and anything else I can do in order to make money to pay the bills and have time to write for publication, in which I would also get money to pay the bills. None of these things are considered legitimate.

Why? Because it’s not a “traditional” job. I don’t get a regular paycheck. I don’t leave the house to do it. And a lot of people underestimate the amount of work that goes into the stories I write, thinking that I’m lazy and I’m not working hard enough to earn what money I do make from writing (or any of the other gigs I work to make money, but we’re going to stick to writing for now).

Allow me to illustrate the work that goes into a short story.

I get an idea. I decide to write this idea. So I write a first draft. Then I set it aside. Depending on the impending deadlines and how I feel about the story, I might set it aside for a couple of days or I might set it aside for a couple of months. It just depends.

Then I revise the story. And then I revise it again. And if I’m lucky, I can stop there and polish it up and call it done. But it’s not uncommon for a story to go through four or five revisions before I’m satisfied with it.

So, the story is as ready as it’s going to be at this point in time. I’ve got my prose all tight, the descriptions all lush, and the grammar so polished it shines. Now I have to submit it. If I don’t have a something in mind when I write it in the first place, the story might possibly sit there for a while before I can find a suitable publication for it. If I can find a suitable publication for it. That’s a risk I run, too. It’s entirely possibly that I write something that can’t be published (or at least, published for money; I aim to get paid for my work for the most part).

But, let’s say I have something in mind and so I send my story off. And then I wait. And wait. And wait. Depending on the deadlines, the reading periods, and many other factors, I can wait for months to hear back about a story. Most of the time, the waiting ends in rejection. And then I start all over.

But, let’s say my story gets accepted. Hooray! I’m getting paid! Except I’m not getting paid until the story gets published. And I’m getting paid the semi-pro rate (I won’t go lower) of 1 cent a word. Considering most short stories typically run anywhere from 1,000 to 5,000 words, sometimes as many as 8,000, I’m not exactly raking in the big bucks. Or the immediate bucks. Depending on what the contract says, I can be waiting for a considerable period of time.

For example, my last story to get published, “Land of the Voting Dead” in Zombidays: Festivities of the Flesheaters, was accepted in April of 2010. I received my check, 53 bucks, November 5th of this year. I wrote and revised the story in December of 2009. I then added a scene to it in February of 2010 in order to meet the required word count. I revised it again. I polished it again. And then I submitted it. I easily had a week’s worth of work in that story.

And that was one of the easier ones!

At this point, if I ever get “At 3:36” published, I know the paycheck won’t match the work I’ve put into it. It wouldn’t be a far cry to say that I’ve probably have a month invested in that story spread out over a couple of years and I’m not finished with it yet. That’s a lot of work for one story.

But I only get paid on delivery and only for the final number of words on the page. I don’t get paid for all of the words I put down and then took out. Or put back in. Or changed. I don’t get paid for the rewrites or the research. Just the finished product.

Now, I’m only speaking for short story writing. That’s the only writing I’ve got experience making money from. And it really bugs me when people imply that because I’m not making a whole lot of money doing it, because I’m not getting a regular paycheck, that I’m not working.

I beg to differ.

I work seven days a week for very little.

Why?

Because it’s my job. And I love it. And one day it will pay better.

But it will never be a typical job.

People need to learn to respect that.

That’s About a Year

~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

About a year ago I started this blog with only a vague idea of what the point of it was going to be.  Over the course of that year, my original idea has evolved, but I think the blog has become better for it and I hope it continues to evolve. That’s how things keep from getting stale.

I’m rather impressed with myself that I didn’t abandon it. There have been more times than I’d like to count that I didn’t feel like making a post. I didn’t have anything to write about, nothing I wanted to say. But I scrapped some words together and slapped it on the blog and called it a post. And it didn’t turn out too bad. It’s another shot in the arm for my self-esteem and my discipline. I can pull it together, even when I don’t feel like it.

The place isn’t been overrun by traffic, but I never expected it to be. Five hits a day and I’m happy. That’s five more hits than I’d ever thought I’d get.  I figured that outside of a few friends reading occasionally, this place would pretty much be a left alone thing.

But the bits and pieces have added up and in the first year, this blog has logged over 2,000 views. So for the people who have read my blog posts, thanks. I really appreciate it. You give me the warm fuzzies.

For the record, my five most popular posts:

-Friday Funtimes–Rerun Junkie: Starsky and Hutch

-Friday Funtimes–Rerun Junkie: Hawaii 5-0

-Friday Funtimes–Rerun Junkie: The Monkees

-Writing Wednesday–Deadlines: Breaking Them

-Friday Funtimes–Video: We’re From Chicago! Yeah!

Don’t think I don’t notice the pattern.

The top five search terms:

-the monkees

-kiki writes wordpress

-the monkeys

-starsky and hutch

-pickle wraps

Five weirdest search terms:

-“hostel” “stalls didn’t have”

-deranged vietnam vet sniper hooks

-huge titties weightless environment

-new hawaii 5-0 homoerotic

-pregnant firefox mascot

The sad thing is that I know what post each of those searches are probably linked to. It’s amazing the kind of things people look for on the internet, but if they end up here and like what they read, I guess I can’t be too judgmental now can I?

(Yeah, I probably will be.)

So overall, I’m pretty happy with how my first year of blogging has gone. In many ways it’s been a lot better than I thought it’d be and I’m thrilled with that.

Now to keep it up and continue to get better during the next year.

Like Mother, Like Daughter…Scary!

~ Kiki Writes ~ 1 Comment

Whenever someone tells me (or someone else) that I’m acting just like my mother, it’s typically not meant as a compliment. What they mean is that I’m acting in such a way that they don’t approve of and attribute my behavior to something genetically inherited from my mother.

However, I am like my mother in some ways, good and bad.

For example (and for Halloween), my mom and I both love horror.

The last time I was at her house, AMC was showing all four of the Alien movies and Mom and I watched the end of Alien and most of Aliens. She loves the SyFy channel on the weekends for movies, no matter how bad they might be. The People Under the Stairs was on Saturday morning and I immediately thought of Mom. She watched that movie a couple of times a week when I was a kid.

She took me and my friend to see Se7en. She rented me Rosemary’s Baby and brought home Dracula from the library for me when I was sick.

Mom is the reason I know who Stephen King is. She read all of his books. I can specifically remember her reading Salem’s Lot. I remember the cover of the book. I remember reading the dusk jacket.

I have yet to read it, though.

When I was finally allowed to check out an adult book at the library at the tender age of 11, Mom didn’t bat an eyelash when I came back with Jaws.

I can’t say that my mom is the reason why I like horror (as I said in my post about why I write horror, I’m not sure exactly WHY I like it or write it), but my mom was definitely a horror enabler. She liked it, realized I liked it, and encouraged me to explore it.

Of course, we don’t always agree on our horror likes. Mom liked Scream enough to make me watch it (during Thanksgiving dinner, naturally). I hated it. I enjoy Vincent Price more than Mom does.

It doesn’t matter, though. The point is that it’s a bonding point for us. Our relationship hasn’t always been the greatest, as happens sometimes with mothers and daughters. Sometimes it’s easier for me to focus on the differences and disagreements. They’re easier to see. It’s easy to forget when we get along or agree. The lack of conflict seems to diminish the recall on the memory.

But even as I picked my brain for more memories of the Mom-horror connection, I was shocked at the warmth that bubbled up behind them. It’s kind of odd that I’d get sentimental and gooey watching a guy run around in a gimp suit while he shoots through the walls because one of his cellar children escaped into them because it reminds me of my mom, but there you go.

My mother and I have an interesting, if not unique, relationship.

You can tell by the ways I take after her.

Frankenboobies Revenge

~ Kiki Writes ~ 5 Comments

Warning! This post contains graphic details of my breast reduction surgery. It’s not for everyone and probably shouldn’t be read while eating anything. Proceed with caution.

 

In August, I wrote about my breast reduction surgery and here I am talking about my boobs again, this time about the negative aspects of my ta-tas.

Negative, you say? How can there be anything bad about boobies?

Well, there can be, and I’ll get to that. But first, I’m going to tell you why I have no trouble talking about my boobs.

When your boobs are as large as mine were, they sort of take on a life of their own. They become their own entity. My chest was large enough that it would knock things over. I’d unintentionally hit people with my boobs because, well, how could I not? They were between me and whatever I was doing. Reaching past someone guaranteed they were going to get some titty on them. Working in close quarters, an elbow to or a hand brushing a boob was common. My friends quickly got used to it.

Breasts that large attract attention. Comments were as common as accidental elbow blows. Men especially were fascinated by them. Of course. Men like boobs and boobs the size of mine are typically reserved for porn as far as they’re concerned. In high school, I had more than one guy ask if they could just feel them. It was less a sexual grope and more a need to satisfy a curiosity about objects that big.

I imagine that they thought what they saw in the bra was what they’d get outside of it. Little did they realize…

They are consequences to have breasts that large. Even breasts that aren’t that big, but grow rapidly end up with stretchmarks. That’s something you don’t see in the movies, porn or otherwise. I’ve got lots of them. They’ve faded with time, but in up close and personal situations , they’re noticeable.

The stretchmarks didn’t go away with my surgery, though with the smaller breasts I can at least be relatively sure that I won’t be getting more of them.

However, the smaller breasts came with a price of their own: scars.

I went into this surgery knowing that there would be scars. I don’t heal quickly and I don’t heal well. Chalk it up to the fair skin or genetics or whatever. It’s been that way since I was a kid. Considering the incision went from under my armpit, around my breast, and ended about half an inch from my breast bone, yeah, there was going to be a scar. It’s widest under my arms where the drain was implanted for my first week of recovery, but for the most part the whole thing has faded.

Due to the size of my breasts, I had to have what’s called a free nipple graft, which made for another incision scar. The surgeon cut up from the bottom of my breast and around my nipple. My nipples were then removed completely so the breast tissue could be removed and the remainder fung shui’d into a more functional and appealing fashion. My nipples were then reattached. The incision scars from this part of the operation have faded some as well.

Now, the risk of doing a free nipple graft is that the surgeon is taking off and then reattaching the nipple, meaning that if the nipple doesn’t get adequate blood supply, the whole thing could die and have to come off. I knew that going in and sure enough, it was a complication I had to deal with.

Before visions of a nippleless boob start bouncing in your head, let me assure you that wasn’t my case. I have both of my nipples, thank you. However, my left one didn’t get quite enough blood supply and the top layer of skin died and sloughed off. To me, it looks like long healed skin after a bad burn, that mottled pink and white, something-significant-happened-here skin. I have been reassured that it doesn’t look that bad, but no one can deny that it’s not a normal look.

My right nipple is fine and looks quite fetching, except for the tiny scar at the top where it pulled away from the skin a little after the stitches were removed.

With all of the scars and stretchmarks, my breasts have a kind of patchwork quality to them. I call them Frankenboobies as they were put together by man. And as glad as I am to have them and have them be this smaller, much more manageable size, I admit that I’m self-conscious about their appearance in the flesh, so to speak.

However, properly displayed in the right bra and shirt combo, they are fantastic and I have no trouble telling people that, too.

After all, if I’m going to talk about my boobs, I’m going to talk about the good and the bad.