Not Your Average Mommy Blogger

19, Married, Son...The rest are just small details right now.

Friday, January 27, 2006

A trip down memory lane, anyone?

Okay, now for a visit back to high school, because that's pretty much all this is...

I think that people in general just really don't like me. I pretend to be okay with it, like Why do I care if some bitch doesn't like me, but it really bothers me to hear that someone I never had any problem with is saying bad things about me (and my husband, who she doesn't even know).

I warned you in advance, this is very Dawson's Creek/One Tree Hill/whatever teen show is popular these days.

For over a year during my junior and senior years of high school, I worked at a food service place in a college town. There was one girl that worked there the whole time I was there, and I'm pretty sure she still works there. We used to talk semi-a lot. I always thought she was kind of a loser, but she was always really nice so I was always really nice back. Not the kind of person I'd hang out with outside of work, but she seemed like a really sweet person. Other people at our job would say bad things about her, and all I ever said was that she was really sweet. It was the truth. I could have nitpicked at her annoying personality traits, but there was no point.

Last weekend, Will and I went out with a few of his friends. One of them informed us that this girl went on about a 10 minute tangent about how much she hated me, and then tore into my "stupid husband". It really hurt my feelings that he told me that, and I'm not sure if it was hormones but I'm pretty sure I've always been this sensitive.

And then, I thought about going to see the girl and punching her in her fucking face. That's what happend with the last person that ran their mouth about my husband. But then I remembered that I'm not in school anymore, I'm pregnant, and violence isn't the answer. But a girl can daydream, right?

I was never told what she actually said, but I have a good idea. I used to think that I was better than people like me, too. That is, until I became who I am. I got screwed out of college because of several things that I don't want to go into right now. As soon as I turned 18, I got a tattoo on my lower back that incorporates my name and Will's. About a month later, I got married. A month after that, I got pregnant. I still live at home with my parents, because it's a lot easier to save money when we don't have to pay rent. I'm sure a lot of people would consider me "white trash". Will wears bandannas regularly, has a big tattoo of my name going down his forearm, and wears Tupac shirts. A lot of people would look at him and think he was "trashy" too. Fuck em.

My own insecurities probably contribute to how upset I get to hear that someone talks badly about me and my family. But that doesn't change the fact that I try to be a good person. I'm just afraid of falling into a hole, where I'm never good enough for anyone, most importantly, myself.

I did a lot of crazy things in high school, and I figured somehow that graduating and having a life of my own would elminate the pettiness. It's clear that I was wrong. I have a lot of growing to do, but I think it's safe to say that I've done more than a good percentage of other people my age have. Now I just need to quit caring about their opinions, and I think I'll be okay..

Thursday, January 26, 2006

That damn Maxim will do it every time...

For the last few weeks, I've been getting a bunch of magazines in the mail. I don't have subscriptions to any of them, and I haven't paid for any of them, but I do enjoy reading them. Yesterday I got the new US Weekly, Maxim, Hollywood Life, and American Baby. Yeah, it was a good day, magazine wise.

Will and I settled into our bedroom to chill out, and guess which one he picks up? Why, American Baby, of course. (You gotta know I'm not serious.) Duh, he went directly for Maxim.

I can soo deal with my husband looking at other girls! Thankfully, I'm very secure with myself, and confident with the way I look. I think pregnancy has brought out the best in me, and I'm lucky to have gained almost 40 pounds of extra beauty. I feel perfectly Ruebenesque.


So, back to reality, I'm feeling like a cow and Will picks up this magazine full of half-naked size 0s. So, okay, I can deal with that. I decide to conveniently "change into my pajamas". Let's not forget that I'm wearing my pretty red lacy thong, which doesn't make me feel sexy, but makes me feel like I should feel sexy.

I saunter around, nonchalantly, and go to put my pajamas on. And the bastard glances up, AS IF TO SIMPLY SEE WHAT I'M DOING, and then looks back down at the magazine. What the fuck?!

After about an hour of me being pissed, and eventually breaking down into sobs of "You're" *sniff* "never ever gonna" *siffle* "look at me like I'm sexy AGAIN!", and an actual tirade about how I wished I were covered in moles, because it would be better than my "problem" now (I swear, I couldn't make this shit up), Will tells me that he thinks I'm beautiful as ever, but my moodiness is really fucking hard to deal with.

Well then. At least he was honest.

For some reason, the explanation of "You look good, but you're a serious pain in the ass" made me feel a lot better.

I have a confession to make.

I ignore homeless people. I go out of my way to avoid them, I'll walk a different block so I don't see them, and sometimes I pretend I'm on my cell phone just so they won't ask me for money. I'm not a very nice person.

It's not that I think I'm better than anybody else. Well, for the most part. There's one girl that walks the streets in the town that I work, going up to people and telling them her story about how she's homeless and pregnant, and just wants to get something to eat. I gave her a dollar once. And then one day, I saw a woman offer to take her to a place for pregnant women where she would be taken care of even after the baby is born. And the homeless girl refused. Since that day I want to punch her in the face every time I see her. Isn't that awful?

I put myself in this girl's position. If I fell on a lot of bad luck and ended up with no place to go, I'd find a way to take care of my baby. I would most likely give him up for adoption. But I feel like as long as the baby is with me, it's my job to take care of him. And nothing pisses me off more than a negligent/abusive parent. I am better than that.

Anger is my way of coping with a lot of things, and truthfully, I would rather see a homeless person as just an awful, hurtful person. Some people say that my attitude is what's wrong with society, and maybe they're right. It's easier to deal with something negative if you believe it's evil. Takes the emotion out of things. I would rather be disgusted by a person than feel bad for them, and I'm not sure why, other than the fact that it's simply easier.

Somewhere in myself I have a complex where I want to save the world. It manifests itself in various ways, and I've been trying to suppress it for years. So for now, I just pretend that I don't see, pick up my cell phone, and think about the person I ignored in the back of my mind for the rest of the day.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

I made a blog!

Well, duh.

Don't get me wrong, I love livejournal and all, but there are just too many things that my friends on there probably don't wanna know. For example, my lovely doctor informed me that I will get a pelvic exam at each visit up until the baby is born, and isn't he an awful man?! This and the rest of the grossness of pregnancy (and eventually, motherhood) really have no place on livejournal. So I suppose I'm joing the ranks of mommy-bloggers.

Though I'm not sure what direction I'm actually going in with this blog, I can guarantee that it will be chock full o' hormones. It's only fair that I realistically represent myself. And if I'm lucky enough to get any readers, I hope you all enjoy yourselves. A real post will resume later, for now I'm just gonna go around and ask all the other bloggers if I can link to their sites...