118.2lbs exactly. The day my then- primary care doc in Lewiston weighed me in, all was about to be well again, I assured him, thus my looking wonderful in the black yoga outfit I was wearing (showing off), while he was dubious, sitting on the chair below and in front of me, the same as a lover might be to untie panty sidebows, and he questioned my judgment, suspecting that being too trusting might be an undiagnosed condition of mine, a comordidity. I thought about the sex I'd be having if I was right. I can remember his face perfectly, his posture, a semi manspread with the ankle on his knee, his shrugging and looking down at the chart to indicate that he understood that as always I was probably going to ignore anything he said. I noticed just then that our postures matched, I was sitting on one foot, crotch aimed at his face. He looked up for a second, right at me there, I felt sure he could smell me, I shifted a little, yea THAT, it's quite a handful, my vag. Concessions must be made to such a Goddess. He stood, conversation over, subject closed.
But he was right in a way. Not about the soon-returning love of my then-life, but about me. I can't shake the habit of believing in words. You don't have to talk at all really, to anyone, you can easily avoid it with "wow", especially if you're a man, you can pass for the strong silent type saying virtually nothing, so why lie about anything at all ever? What I have not been able to really absorb is that people lie to themselves constantly. And what they're doing by lying to you (often unconsciously) is getting corroboration, like an alibi. All people do this. I do it. We build a coherent narrative of our lives, hoping it's not pathological/unsustainable (but it sometimes is), a coherence of who we are that we can explain to others. I know this, as a fact, it is a constant necessary human foible, I teach the concept for christ sake, but I forget it all the time.
I suspect Nebraska has passed for boring af like Keyser Soza sorta. All he ever says is how much he adores me, NONSTOP, everything I do, on and on 🙄, and everyone (my mom) believes that/him. It's so boring!, you have no idea, like being forced to stare at yourself in a funhouse mirror all day. Now that I'm going amongst his coworkers, ie walking the halls of his world, what I'm learning about him is that he absolutely adores me. He says that and only that to them as well, for YEARS, that's all they know about him also.
All along my gut has recoiled from this. But there is no sense discussing it with anyone. I have tried. I just get the "you have to feel deserving of love" schpeel because of course all women have feelings of low self worth blablabla. So boring. 🤦🏻♀️
I am worth enough. Obviously I think so because I have taken the adoration of this man, and others before him, so for granted that I forgot it was bullshit.
I asked my body her opinion. Very literally, I laid on my back in my sister's house and asked my body how she felt about it all, the brain to vagina via spine hotline (batgirlphone). And immediately got my answer: you've been here, caught in selfbullshit(s), it makes you very angry.
Yessssss.
first high - nikki lane
I was just in Lewiston looking at houses for sale. The village bake shoppe is as ever, mile high apple pie. And I weigh 118.2 pounds precisely. That's what we call in the witchbiz a "synchronicity". I don't know how to read signs like that tbh. I tried skimming blog entries in Oct 2014 and gave myself a headache - I'll spare you, kind reader, a linkback 🙄🤦🏻♀️🤷🏻♀️ - but I found jealousy to be 1 constant 2 boring 3 bullshit. I didn't remember that, but yesssss. I put it something like "I spend my time wanting a piano to fall on his mother and he thinks I'm thinking about dick" which in a sense I was thinking about dick, HIS DICK 🙄,*I* was the jealous one for christ sake, everybody buying their own bullshit like slapstick. I am not bewitched by dick at the moment, so not the same. But. Nebraska's "affirmation" of me is 1 constant 2 boring and 3 some kind of bullshit. I'm just not sure what kind of bullshit and everyone around us completely buys it, whatever it is (masterful gaslighting).
Since I don't know who or what all is not to be trusted to put any weight down on it, I'm toe tapping, kicking tires (possible lives) with bare feet, seeing what feels real to the touch.
