When I discovered yoga again I worried I was the biggest girl in the class, and I was. But I kept going and liked it. But there is this one move that I always think about and I think I"m going to send it in to this blog. I love this blog called Busty Girl Comics. This comic is all about what it's like to be large in the chest, pros and cons.
This yoga move is called High Lunge.
In this move I could stay balanced and have the correct form, well until it came to my boobs. You are supposed to lay your upper body on your leg and touch your hands flat on the ground. Yeah, with big boobs, it's not possible. The yoga teacher, who was super nice, asking me, "Can you not do this move?" She wasn't trying to be a bitch but I simply replied with, "No, I can not do this move. My boobs are in the way."
Damn you boobs, I love you most of the time but this moment is when I hate you.
Recently I've gone through a rough patch which has made me lose everything from focus to hope in my life. Thus is why I have no updated. I didn't want to abandon this blog so quickly but I did and it wasn't meant to be.
This happens to me a lot. I will begin something and go into this new adventure head first but I quickly lose interest. It happens all the time, never fails. But it's one thing I'm trying to change.
I kept thinking that I needed to have this blog be completely about pole dancing, food, and my adventure in it. But I'll probably end up adding certain things that help me. Some posts will be a random ranting about what is going on my life but the next post could be able my obsession with food.
Lately I went into a deep depression. It doesn't happen often but when it does, I dive deep. When something doesn't happen as I want it or something throws me for a loop, then I get depressed. It's a need to have control and right now I feel as I don't have any control over my life.
I'm miserable at home, I'm miserable at work. I love to write but I'm so miserable I say so what? What's the point? I won't finish it. I'm only making myself give up before I have the possibility to get half way.
When I get deep into a depressing state I result back to my addiction. I may have never been addicted to drugs or alcohol but I was addicted to self-mutilation. This addiction plagued me from the age of 15-22. I started when a classmate told me about it. At first yes it was about attention but then it turned into an addiction. I'd buy razors to crack them open and save the blades under shampoo bottles, only mine because my dad or brother would never touch girly shampoo. Or the closest I came to my dad finding about was when he discovered all his razor blades gone from his toolbox. He's a machine so he had replacement blades for his retractable blades or razors to remove window tint. I thought no one knew but my brother discovered I was cutting and then the whole family knew. No, I never had an intervention. My boyfriend helped me stop.
Stopping somethings for a boy isn't always a bad thing. He told me he'd leave me for good if he discovered another cut on my body. I didn't want to be without him, I just got him back. After awhile of being cut free I started to see things about it. I made myself uglier by scaring myself. I still have that mindset where I think "oh it's not that bad. I never got near anything that could hurt me. I stayed away from my wrists. My blades were always new and clean. My wounds were cleaned after and taken care of with Neosporin. I did it safely." There is nothing safe about hurting yourself.
I'd always say there was no real reason why I started to cut myself but now I know exactly why. It's exactly why I gained so much weight in elementary school. My mom left. I didn't have her in my life anymore. I did some but it wasn't much. My parents, especially my dad had such bad blood between them that my dad always had an attitude and my mom felt uncomfortable and unwanted. I understand. I love my dad and thank him and my brother for raising me but I gained a lot of hatred toward my mother because of my father. I'll never tell him that. Maybe my life would have been different.
I never thought she left because of me. I knew her and my father were no longer getting along and I knew she had her affairs and she wasn't the biggest fan of men anymore. Sometimes it takes a long time to discover what really makes you happy.
When she left, I started eating. I gained weight. Then in seventh grade I was already in an 18. I was so ashamed so I stopped eating and went down to a 13/14. In high school with my first boyfriend, I went back up to 18.
I've discovered that I always put myself second although I'm always working on myself. I'll do anything to make others happy but I don't make myself happy. That turned into a whole new addiction with shopping but I smashed that quick.
My personality is addictive. I've done bad things in the short life I've had. Lied to make myself sound better. Stolen from strangers. Been a total bitch. I don't want to be that person.
I want to find that one thing that I'm perfect with. I'm a genius at. That one thing people will look at me and say oh yeah, she knows everything about that. This is what I love about pole dancing. Pole dancing is physical, confident gaining, sexy, and artistic. Now it's up to me to do this for myself, to make myself happy.