Tag Archives: love

Facts and Figure

My husband is cloaked

in information.

When he slips my pelerine

off my shoulders,

the heat of my borrowed home

sinks into my chest,

exhausted.

Mouth on mine,

he breathes empire into me.

Always his tongue studded

in stats.

Interested,

I absorb his mind.

I absorb everything.

I absolve the world of nothing.

My husband kisses me

with countries I’ll never see.

With all his facts he

warms my figure.

Love Letter to my Husband

A few minutes ago I went upstairs to get two excedrin and an electric heating pad for my husband. He reorganized the living room, carried the big vacuum downstairs (a struggle for me) cleaned upholstery, and then…he shoveled our ice encrusted driveway. If you have never shoveled an iced over, snow laden driveway (or more to the point, watched your scandalously sexy man shovel one) you don’t know how much work it is. My husband is a strong guy and no sissie, and he was still panting and hurting his back.

I offered him drinks, then a warm jacket. He declined both. Then I admit I spent a bit of time on the porch with the cold eating through my dress like acid in order to watch my husband work. There is something so inherently erotic and toe curling about watching a strong man do something hard, something physical.

My husband does so many great, vital, necessary things. He takes care of our little family. Sometimes it is thankless work – like when he is up getting ready for work at 3 am. The times we need a few things at the grocery store and he dashes through the cold or rain to go get them. Vigilant bedside visitation when I, his wife, try to kill myself. Visiting me in hospitals for physical or mental wounds. Handling household setups after moves. Taking trash bins out to the street when the wind is trying to kick the lid back and knock his teeth in. The way he puts together the things we live with and on.

There is so much more. I need to remember gratitude. Each day I make an effort to thank Craig for what he has done, for what he is doing. Is it enough? How many millions of things does he do each day that I don’t acknowledge because they are the fabric of our married life, because he does them so quietly, because I just don’t have the breath or the words?

I need to give him more gratitude each day, whether by putting his boots up or looking him straight in the eyes and saying, “Thank you. I love you.”

Because the things he does, just as much as the things he says, show his love for me.

Valentine’s Day

Today Craig took me to my fabric paradise! He bought me two kinds of sheer cloth to put over my camera as screens. I can’t wait to experiment with that idea! He also got me three pieces of regular cloth with spectacular designs. Rainbow birds, iridescent autumn leaves, and colorful test tubes and beakers. I will use them as backgrounds for different book photos, as painting backgrounds, as little images to add to mixed media stuff, and who knows what else!

We started our special Valentine’s date by going to Steak N’ Shake. Afterward we went to the mall, and then to Coldstone for dessert. It was a lovely day. We decided to do our special Valentine’s Day date today instead of on the actual holiday because of crowds. Occasionally we will go out on the 14th if we can go in the morning or early in the afternoon. It’s usually still crowded then but not as bad. But Valentine’s Day fell on a Thursday and our babysitter I was busy until about 3. We certainly didn’t want to deal with the crowd at that point. point. So we had a lovely day today now that the holiday is done.

However, we exchanged gifts on Valentine’s Day. Craig got me two beautiful Swarovski necklaces and a painting by a local artist. I got him an air fryer. He has been wanting one for awhile. I hope he really likes it. I was thrilled with what he gave me. All so lovely and romantic.

Marriage

My silence is a blue tapestry
hanging by the old runny window.
Beneath my tongue the dream
dissolves, disheveled, voiceless.

Where his feet go,
my soul follows,
swimming through the cerulean sea,
stalking through the scorching sands,
clattering through canals.

His feet make tracks on the moon,
his ambition a horse for me to ride
to some frosted paradise.

In my tapestry,
the design of a snowflake,
sublime and thick.

Water

Look up water.

See what books,

so fearful of the subject,

refuse to stay.

Flowers gasp to stay afloat.

His desires spirit him away.

His desire to finger the piano,

her

with or without her face.

The touch of her mind on the water

regal red.

Life and I do not care who we have.

He is

crunched afterbirth.

Weighty Matters

Lately I’m not totally happy with my weight. It isn’t that I want to be thin again. I don’t really. I’d rather eat what I want and be fluffy. I even like being fluffy. I think it suits me more than being skinny. I have disproportionately large breasts, so being skinny just makes me look a little weird in my opinion, like a snake that swallowed two watermelons. But I’d love to be about 20 pounds lighter. I’m definitely more than 20 pounds heavier than slim, but I’d like to lose 20 pounds. I was supremely happy with my weight at 175/180. I like plus size clothes, but I miss having the option to wear regular size clothes. I’m a size 18, so I’m one size too big to shop in regular departments. Gone are my days of shopping at Macy’s.

The problems are these: I like food, I’m on heavy psychiatric medication, I have hypothyroidism, and I cannot do my old favorite forms of exercise very much. I used to be really in to walking and for the past year or more I’ve been unable to really take a good long walk because of my problems with my foot – problems two foot surgeries have not fixed. Walking was my favorite form of exercise. I used to go on nightly one hour walks, with a little bit of running thrown in.

I need to find a new form of exercise. I’m thinking of swimming, but I don’t have a pool and it is time consuming to drive to the pool. Plus, the pool lap swimming hours don’t work with my schedule. I’d love a trampoline to jump on, but we are moving to military housing in January when we go to Colorado and I don’t think trampolines are allowed there – and it isn’t worth the money to buy one for just one summer and fall. And honestly, I’m not sure how much impact my foot can really take. My problem tends to be more with bending my foot than putting impact on it, but impact hurts too.

Then I think I could count calories again, but I don’t miss the days of my life where I counted calories. It was miserable. I don’t want food, or the lack of it, taking up that much space in my head. I don’t want to count everything I eat. Still, if I want to get back in to size 16s or 14s I need to eat less and move more.

Why does size matter? Why can’t they make the same clothes in all sizes? And why do I put this pressure on myself? Society tries to put pressure on me, but I don’t read fashion magazines anymore and I’m old enough to pay no mind to the tv, so I don’t know if that is where the pressure is coming from. My husband doesn’t put pressure on me and loves me the way I am.

Am I really unhappy with my weight or am I unhappy with something else? Sometimes unhappiness about other areas of myself manifests in unhappiness with my weight. Even when I was skinny I was miserable about my body because I was miserable about other things. So how do I separate my feelings about my body from my feelings about other things? How does one love their body the way it is and yet try to change it at the same time?

I can’t put pressure on myself to lose weight, or I’ll go too far. You’d never know it to see me now, but I used to have two eating disorders. I’m an obsessive person by nature. Calorie counting becomes the focus, vomiting becomes regular. I don’t ever want to go back to that. But why is it that sometimes I can love myself the way I am and other times I can’t? How do you lose weight without dieting? How can I enjoy life and enjoy the foods that I like while still making sure I don’t go up a dress size? And why am I not good at this balance? Being size 18 is not bad, but I’d like to be a 16 or a 14, and I don’t want to go up to a 20 as I get older.

How can I get happy with my weight again, either by losing weight or by loving myself as I am?