I’m bloated.

Might as well tell it like it is: I am bloated and gassy and my hair is a mess and I am still in my nightie. And I pooped twice today and the second time was liquid. Aaaah yeah! I am feeling so sexy right now!

The LGBT label has now grown into LGBTTIQQ2S (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transsexual, Transgender, Intersex, Queer/Questioning, 2 Spirited). Wow… I had a hard time remembering 4 letters! I’m going to look up the ones I don’t know… But I have to say that I hate that we live in a world where people feel the need to label themselves or have labels forced on them because society is a bull headed, dim witted, sloth and refuses to change. Or maybe I am way oversimplifying it. What do I know of these things? Nothing really. I known what I saw on tv and read online. I’ve never really had a conversation with an LGBT… friend about these things because I tend to believe that what people do with their genitals is none of my business unless they’re trying to do it to me! (oh and if they’re hurting people) Why did I suddenly decide to post about this?

I want to sing. Why? Because I want to! Because it seems like it would feel really good and be very liberating! So why don’t I just sing? Because people may hear me and laugh and then I will die because surely singing badly and/or being ridiculed is the worse possible thing that could ever happen to a human being. Right? A couple of weeks ago I made a video of myself singing Dust In The Wind by Kansas. I posted it on Facebook and let about 30-40 people see it. People made kind comments. I’ve been trying since then to gather up enough courage to either post the video for all to see or to record myself again and post that. Of course, there’s kind of no point in re-recording since I have been too self conscious to practice since then. That’s the part that is hardest for me to understand in all this; I am truly afraid of my own voice. It’s as if I was afraid of my on judgement. Maybe because I am so incredibly self-critical. Despite people telling me lovely things, I always think they are just being kind and that I am a ridiculous, annoying, bizarre looking, hell let’s be honest, ugly girl. *sigh* This growing up bullshit is hard. Mama never told me it would never fucking end!

Upon further reflection I have decided to start this paragraph with the word “upon” just because I didn’t want to start another paragraph with “I”. So yeah… I’m gonna go ahead and post this now and not wait until late tonight because that generally ends in me typing furiously at 11:00pm.


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