I'm home from work now. . .

Chilling on the sofa with the laptop. . .

And all I can hear is the quite hum of the AC unit. At the moment- I can relax. I'm not thinking about any expectations or things I need to do. . . it's just me. . .

Work was busy tonight. I'll be surprised if my guest retention numbers don't stay as high as they've been lately. I think I did 6 request clients? 2 of which were color clients. . . so it was a good night. Very busy though, very busy.

I have to get up tomorrow morning. . . ugh. Hate that. And again on sunday morning as I picked up a shift. . . gross. I hate mornings that aren't spent just sleeping until I naturally wake up. I hate HAVING to get up. There's some psychological torture in knowing that I HAVE to get out of bed. . . I hate it. I loathe it.

Out of the corner of my eye I see trash that needs to be thrown away, dishes that need to be done, carpet to be vaccummed and cleaned. . . clothes etc to be put away. . .

But I'm sitting here typing my thoughts into xanga instead. Why? It's relaxing and I need to effing relax right now. Maybe I'll even take a bath, just because.

On the way home from work I (again) got caught up in thinking about all the horrible and painful things that go on in our world. I kind of hate it. I hate that there's so much pain. . . everyones life seems to have some sort of pain- and I don't like that at all. Somehow it bothers me more knowing that EVERYONE suffers in some way than if just a few people suffered. There's so much suffering- everywhere. Death, sickness, lying, cheating, stealing, broken hearts, loneliness. . .  it's quite awful when you sit and think about it all. So I was quite depressed.

Then I thought about all my happy memories. The times I remember happiest is the summer I graduated highschool. . . and funny thing is I was happy despite everything that was going on. It was the summer I spent getting to know adam. . . the summer we fell in love. Didn't matter that I wasn't allowed to call him or that he had to ask for permission to talk to me on the phone. . . didn't matter we weren't allowed to hang out alone. Didn't matter that we weren't allowed to hug or hold hands or anything. . . we would write letters to each other. I prepared letters for him to take with him when he left for bootcamp at the end of summer. . . and before we knew it- summer was over. I was back in school full time and he was off to basic combat training.

Then I got to fly down and see him when he graduated. . . I don't think I remember ever feeling as happy as I did on that trip. Again, didn't matter all the rules we had to follow. We were just thrilled to finally see eachother again.

If I could go back and do it again- I'd run away and marry adam right then and there. Just go off to some courthouse in south carolina and get married and move onto the army base. Forget about everything in Minnesota and never look back. . .

why?

because everything in my life from that point on has just been a mess. If I had the courage and the confidence that I have now- I wouldn't have bothered to come back to Minnesota. EVER if I could help it. I hate this cold miserable state. Of course, there's lots of people I'd miss from here however- so that'd be sad. But if I just married adam then and there and we stayed at fort jackson forever- I'd sure skip out on a bunch of crap.

Oh hindsight.

But then, the confidence that I have now which would lead me to make those choices was only gained from the events following my trip to south carolina. . . so, I'd be a much different person.

I think I'd be a better person though. I'd sure have a LOT less bitterness. Of course I could just let the bitterness that I have now melt away into nothing. . . so much easier said than done.

What a waste of time to think about all this. To think about crap that I can never change. . . ah well. It's nice to fantisize about WHAT IF. . . what if I'd just grabbed adam, gave him the hugest kiss, grabbed his hand and run off to get married? Coulda, shoulda, woulda.

We could have just skipped that whole painful year that led up to our short notice courthouse wedding. . .

What did I learn in that year though, anything of value?

Well I learned that just because people are Christians and go to church does NOT mean they speak the will of God or that they will act like Jesus. . . actually, they're MORE likely to act unchristlike than those who DON'T profess christianity. . . strange phenomenon, really.

I learned how to think independantly

I learned that no matter how stubborn I was and no matter how hard I tried to do everything right and make things perfect- that it's not entirely up to me.

I learned not to be so judgemental of other people. I learned what it really does mean to treat others how you want to be treated.

And that's about all I can think of. So yes, I learned some valueable things I guess. I hate life lessons though- they usually involve pain and lots of suffering and many, MANY tears.

How can I use these lessons for my future? Well i don't know. I've got about 1,000,000 thoughts running through my head. . . that's the thing about hindsight. You can't use it on the past, but how do you use it on the future???

Honestly when I use my lessons learned and my hindsight from the past- the future really doesn't look very bright at all.

Each summer since that amazing summer I wish for a happy summer. . . and so far each summer has been progressively worse and worse. I'm kind of dreading next summer. I don't how if it could be worse than this summer, but I hope not. Please God, don't give me any more bad summers. Could next summer PLEASE be a good one? Please????? I could really use one.

I should probably mosey off the bed. I wish that going to bed early actually made getting up early easier- but it doesn't. So what the point of going to bed early? There isn't one, but I've got nothing else to do. Except clean up a lot. . . but I'm so ridiculously tired i think I might fall asleep slumped over the dishwasher, so perhaps I'll go easy on myself tonight. . .

I mean. . . there's so much to think about. Do I even think our armed forces should be in iraq? I don't know if I'm qualified to make an accurate judgement regarding that. . . all I know is that I think America feels it's our obligation to "help" everyone and I don't see why we need to "help" everyone. . . perhaps it's selfish of me, but why is everyone else in the world entitled to the good things that we have? We worked very hard for the good things we have. Our forefathers who came here built this country because they were brave and hard working. So why do we let all these foreigners come as they please and sit on their butts collecting wellfare?

Ok that's another topic for another day. . . my politics aren't very good anyway. If it were up to me, I'd withdraw our troops from everywhere and just nuke the whole sandpit. That's pretty terrible, isn't it? Well that's why I'm not the president. Or in any leadership position. Because that is what I would do.

If Adam goes to iraq he'll miss my 21st birthday, Mercedes' 1st birthday, her first words, her first step. . . and when he gets back she'll probably be afraid of him and not know who he is. Of course I'll show her pictures, hopefully we'll have skype, but it's just not the same as being held, cuddled etc by someone.

As for me? Being alone? Well it will be significantly easier with Mercedes to take care of. When Adam and I were apart before- back in 2006, the only thing that kept me going was keeping myself busy and having purpose.

What if he dies? I have to answer that question for myself.

I think I would be strong. I would have no regrets. I would be so glad for the amount of time we did get together, although I know I would never be the same. My heart would never be whole again. I would probably want to re-marry but it would never be the same. . . A part of me would always be lonely. A part of me would always be broken.

And as far as being alone for a year. . . you make it work. I know perhaps this sounds weird, but it's so much easier for me to be strong about this because of Mercedes. In general I think she has made me a better, stronger person.

In the end, Mercedes won't remember that her daddy wasn't there for her first year of life. Probably within a week she'll be just fine with him again and won't be afraid or treat him like a stranger.

I think in the end the one I'm concerned about is Adam. We don't even know if he's going yet. . . but last night he held Mercedes and just cried and cried. Yet at the same time, he hates the idea of his unit going over there without him. He told me a few days ago that if anything happened to anyone in his unit- he'd feel like if he had been there he could have prevented it.

It some ways I think it could help him grow up some more. . . in others I think it might damage him. In a situation like that you have 2 choices- you can focus on everything that's at hand and more or less disregard what's going on 'back home' or you can focus soley on what's "back home" and be utterly miserable every single day until your return.

When Adam was at bootcamp and his AIT training, he focus was on home. He didn't care about anything or anyone there. I think Iraq will be different- i think his primary focus is going to have to be there- not back here with me.

I guess I won't really know exactly what I think until I have a for sure answer on whether he is going or not. . . 

I think our culture is entirely too obsessed with breasts.

It's rather scary at times. Seemingly, a woman rank in both "womanhood" and "attractiveness" is greatly determined by the size of the lumps of flesh hanging from her chest.

I remember being told that the "perfect size" was a 36C. I thought this was a rather huge size to be (being like, a 28AAA at the time. . . ) but ever since then it's been stuck in my mind that THIS is the ideal size.

However, it seems that our society DEMANDS a D cup, or better yet- A DD!!!! Artists (dare I use this word?) like Jessica Simpson proudly parade their DDs around and receive great adoration.

However, upon doing some investigation it seems that the upright men of our culture could really care less about the letters and  numbers printed on your bra tag. These mean nothing. If a girl is a 36C, but has muffin tops and a butt the size of texas- who cares? Gross. Not attractive.

Or even a perfectly slim girl- decked out with bigger-than-life boobies? Yuck. Doesn't matter how slender her legs are, or how flat her stomach is. Her D cup is too big for her frame and makes her ENTIRE body appear fat. Not attractive.

So- what is ATTRACTIVE? Yes, some men may be obsessed with the numbers and letters which dictate just how "womanly" you are. This may be their sole thought- but alas, they are retards and not worth a drop of attention. They are probably momma's boys with small equipment and no self esteem.

SO, a self respecting man who thinks more about a woman than how big her boobs are- what is physically attractive to him? What is "pretty"??? Be you surprised, here is your answer. It's about proportion. It's about symmetry. It's about balance.

What? So an A cup size breast can be BEAUTIFUL? what? no that simply cannot be!!!!

But on the right body, it is. And there are actual men out there who have this concept.

So now let me tell you, from personal experience, big boobs are not all they are cracked up to be.

And i can speak on this subject truthfully because I have had small, medium, and large breasts.

Around ages 13-14 I had smallish breasts (duh). But a couple of my friends grew quickly, and were already wearing C cups. So I thought i was inadequate, ugly, etc. They always spoke of and boasted of their ginormous boobs. Guys noticed them. No one noticed me. I thought I'd never find a guy- not with ugly boobs like mine. I mean- you need boobs to land a guy, right?

Ok well then I actually grew up and realized that boobs had nothing to do with finding a guy- and if you did find a guy with your boobs it was typically a bad thing. A very bad thing. A thing with a very unhappy ending. By this time I had sprouted to a nice round, firm B cup. I have a small body- I'm barely over 5 feet and weigh about 100 pounds (eh- before the baby that is). It was nice- I wasn't "flat" but I could wear cute tanks and halter tops without spilling my goodies out for everyone to see. I looked classy in whatever I wore, not like a slut.

Then I got pregnant. (by my husband, intentionally just FYI).

My boobs grew. A lot. But so did my belly, so i didn't really notice and no one else did. By the end of my pregnancy I was wearing mostly C and D cups.

Then I had my baby, my stomach deflated. And then- then my milk came in.

I struggled to fit them into the D cup nursing bra I had bought (and nursing bras do have significantly larger cup sizes than normal bras). They bulged out of the only tank top that fit me.

I looked in the mirror- and almost threw up. I looked so trashy. My chest felt so heavy.

Now that my milk supply has evened out (I was pretty scared when my milk first came in and my breasts got that large) that D cup nursing bra fits quite nicely *sigh of relief*.

My stomach flattened out a bit more. . . I could wear my jeans again. . .

But my shirts? all my cute shirts that looked so perfect on my nice, firm, round B cup boobies? Fail. Major fail.

So I went out shopping. I immediately grabbed up cute little tanks and other shirts would look simply SMASHING on my cute pre-pregnancy body. I wasn't dumb, I grabbed a M instead of a S. Most of my pregnancy weight was already gone- so I just needed shirts that were a little bit bigger- right?

Oh my. Not only did I have to find everything in a LARGE instead, my new big friends looked absolutely trampy in everythign I put on. No, not sexy. Not even worth being in a porn video- just downright "i'm trying too hard" trashy. I put away all the cute shirts I had found. I started grabbing looser shirts- FINALLY finding something that worked.

And I decided. I hate big boobs. I want MY boobs back. I want boobs that are going to look good with my little body. I want to be able to wear cute little tanks and halter tops again- and sweet little summer dresses- without looking like a desperate whore. The world has always screamed at me that to be beautiful- I needed to be a D cup.

Well, I'm a D cup now. It's gross and I hate it. I miss all the cute little clothes I used to be able to wear. I'm actually looking forward to weaning my daughter and hopefully dropping a couple of cup sizes.

And as for my husband? He will always love me and think i am beautiful- do the extra sizes up help??? No. He's not MORE attracted to me because of it. So what good are they for? Well feeding the baby- and that's it!

I may add more to these thoughts later. But that's all for now!

well not that anyone reads this anymore and not that I keep up with it anymore, EVER. . .

but me and the man love being married

And now were gonna have a baby and we're super excited