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Showing posts from 2014

My Glorious Breasts

8/8/2008: The Day of Beauty and Light
I have stated many times that I was a boobless virgin in high school. Once I lost my virginity I was just boobless and diseased. I tried everything possible to make it seem like I had some semblance of breast tissue. I wore two bras, I put chicken cutlets in my too big bras, I wore padded camis, and even padded bra inserts. Nothing helped or even made an impact. The first two guys I slept with never even saw nipple out of sheer fear. I was terrified that once the bra came off and the 10 year old boy boobs came out they would think that had been set up on "To Catch a Predator". Kate Hudson and Keira Knightly have the smallest celebrity boobies I can think of and both of those flat chested actresses looked like Pamela Anderson in comparison to me.

When I was growing up and waiting impatiently for puberty to hit me I repeatedly told my mother and any doctor that would listen that the only reason I wanted to see blood leak from my hoo-ha is …

Bitch, I am sorry

I am writing this letter after watching a horrific episode of Marriage Bootcamp: Reality Stars on WE. They forgave people that had wronged them in the past and I thought that maybe I deserved to forgive myself too, through a letter. Hopefully I didn't kill too many brain cells watching that drivel and this makes sense.

Dear Gabrielle,

It has occurred to me that I owe you many apologies. I have taken you for granted and treated you like a dolphin at Sea World. I would like to make amends for all the past sins I have committed against you. There is no way to go back in time and undo the countless hours of torture, but I am hoping this letter will make up for some.

Starting with your childhood, I am sorry that I only brushed your teeth at night and not in the morning. I am also deeply sorry for rarely bathing you. The foul odor and stank breath was partly the reason you spent most days wrapped in a blanket watching tv in the basement alone. I am also incredibly sorry for chopping off…

Everybody Poops

The First Step to Recovery is Admittance
My name is Gabrielle and I am a poopaholic. There is no place I can not and will not drop my pants. I need to do it and if I am being 100% honest I need to do it more than almost anyone of planet earth. I wake up in the morning and just have to potty it up. Usually it's all of last night's dinner, unless I ate something I shouldn't have and then it is just mystery bile because dinner left me around midnight. I have done it everywhere and I no longer have any shame about admitting it.

When I was in high school I used to hide my bathroom habits any possible way. By senior year all my teachers knew I was sick, so being late or leaving in the middle was not a punishable offense. I used to love when we were watching a movie and I could sneak out through the darkness. Or when it was test day, I was always one of the first done if not the first, so I could turn my test in and run to the closest bathroom. Luckily, Crohns' was not very w…

20 Things to Do Before you Lose your Colon

ENJOY If it has been covered in flour and dunked into a fryer until golden brown, eat it! Onion rings are good, Mozzarella sticks are great, Fried chicken is amazing!Always eat the cake. Birthdays, weddings, showers, and anniversaries are all good excuses to shove a slice of heaven in your cake hole. But who needs an excuse, next time you head to Giant for some groceries, stop by and grab a slice or two. Please do not neglect the icing. When you're at a restaurant and you've already housed one bread basket, ask for another and then another. Make sure you have enough butter packets to slather each crispy piece. Have no shame.If a bakery smells good, walk inside and order at least three items. If it's Italian get an eclair or cannoli, Arab grab some baklava, French devour a chocolate croissant. In any bakery if they have cookies or pies, you eat them!Go eat some delicious Hispanic cuisine. There better be sour cream and hot sauce on every bite of those flour tortilla. It also…

Scars

Clearly I am not a Swimsuit Model
Show me a person who doesn't have a scar and I will show you a liar... and a mirror. Some scars are from accidents or being an idiot. Like getting hit in the head by a five year old with a baseball bat and a vendetta. I tried to get out of the way of the metal weapon being swung, but the scar on my eyebrow tells a different tale. It tells the same story as my sister and our cousins; one where I didn't move out of the way even though they repeatedly told me and then got cracked in my head. I like my version better. It doesn't make me seem like a moronic 7 year old with a listening deficiency and there's a bad guy and a damsel in distress.

Others are only on the inside. The ones you try to conceal, but always have a way of becoming exposed. Like a pimple on your chin, those are the worst. The scars that come from broken hearts, lost innocence, or trauma. My mother claims I have PTSD and that I should seek professional help to combat it. …

Heaven

I'm not Happy to see you, I'm just High
Sionne rolled down her window and sniffed the air. A wry smile lit her face, "There's pot somewhere". "What does pot smell like?" I asked from the backseat of her Ford Focus. "Heaven" she replied, dreamily.

I was around 12 and had no idea about anything, including what a "blunts" was. The answer to that question was a loud laugh and endless mocking. I was a boobless, pre-teen who knew nothing about the mysterious world of drugs. I was a late bloomer, in all aspects of life. I preached abstinence and being a straight edge teen until I discovered Cinemax after Dark. Which was 16, the same age I got my period, had my first kiss, and drank my first alcoholic beverage.

I remember my first kiss vividly. I was in my basement nervously watching Pulp Fiction and anxiously anticipating the kiss I knew was coming. It wasn't true love, but I was intoxicated by his smell, a mixture of weed, cigarette sm…

Bump in my Butt

The Surgery that Started it All
When I was sixteen I got in a car accident (hilarious story) and had to wear a neck brace to school for a week; around that time I also started having a pain in my tailbone. My parents told me that it was all related and just like the whiplash it would subside. After the embarrassing monstrosity of brace left my gorgeous neck, the ass pain was still around and worsening by the day. My mother then decided that I had to have bruised my tailbone, so she bought me a donut. Within a three week period I had become the shmuck with the neck brace and ass pillow.

The tormenting blue donut was useless and I told the parentals that my health and reputation had suffered enough and this weird bump was forming in my ass crack. This was pre webMD, so my mother grabbed a gargantuan book of medical problems off our bookcase and skimmed through it. She decided that she needed a closer examination, so she grabbed a flashlight and my pants. The women in my family are basic…

25 and Unwed

Youngest Spinster Around

I have come up with so many excuses over the years as to why I was never in a serious relationship. "I was coming out of a long relationship", "I was coming out of an intense love", "I do not have the time to date right now", and my favorite, "Have you seen what is out there? My okcupid, match, eharmony, and jdate are filled with homicidal freaks looking to skin me and put my skin on a blow up doll and bang me".No matter how true the excuse, it was just that.

Obviously, I know there are great guys out there. I see them getting engaged all over my Facebook. But my guy, my future husband, is currently a fantasy concocted by the NFL and Disney.  He is at least six feet tall, one gorgeous foot taller than me. Height advantaged girls  everywhere hate short girls who date tall guys, but they can reach the top shelf at grocery stores and wear maxi dresses. So no sympathy here. He must've played a collegiate sport, if he di…

"Disabled"

Stupidity is not a disease, but they're too stupid to know
While sitting in the Philadelphia airport on the way to my first European adventure I almost lost my poop all over two old farts sitting near me. Now I didn't literally lose my poop on them, which is a real possibility as anyone with Crohns knows (when I had my bag I disgustingly threatened that more than I would like to admit). Back on point...I had just been placed into the handicapped sitting from my wheelchair when two moronic twats came wheeling up near me. They sat up, thanked the attendants, and got into their own handicapped seats. At first I thought, "Holy Crap how can two disabled people go on a vacation together? That is amazing!" Then I quickly realized that not only were they not even slightly handicapped, they were con artists. They had a very cute poodle/terrier mix with them and when two other old coots asked how they could travel with their dog they explained that they had made him an emotion…

Maddening

Everyone has problems. Whether big or small, they are there. People react differently to situations and how they handle stress and disease. I am one who chooses laughter and sarcasm to mask my pain.  This may seem like hiding to some, but I am a realist and know that I may never get better. Why would I stay miserable and sad for the rest of my life? No one enjoys a Debbie Downer, especially one as cute as me. So when I was scanning Pinterest and found a post with this quote: "When you've been sad for so long that when something bad happens you don't cry, you sit there and feel numb" I became suddenly enraged. I have never desired to be a hacker in my life, but I wanted to track the original author's IP address and beat the living crap out of him or her.

I am about to go on a small rant, so please excuse me for a moment. WHOMEVER wrote this quote, then put it on tumblr, then pinned it to Pinterest to be seen by many young people is a monster. Worse than Justin Bie…

Captain No Colon

Please Keep Away From the Animal
"Can I come visit?" " Do you want Company?" "I just want to stop by for a second and bring a gift, please?" No. Simple and upsetting. Everyone "understands" but how can they? No one else is locked in the hospital, permanently attached to an iv pole, and confined to the bed. No one else spends 24 hours a day with their body writhing in pain lying in the fetal position. Maybe fetuses, but the unborn don't count. Not one person, except Survivor contestants and the homeless, can comprehend not showering for days turned into weeks. Unable to stand long enough to get clean.  Having their mother and sister wipe them down with bath cloths and shaving their legs with cups of water and razors. 25 going on 90. A role Jennifer Garner would never play, maybe Meryl.

My hair in an unwashed bun, sweat soaked gown, unruly eyebrows, and hairy limbs, I can get over. Being unable to speak, move, joke, or smile. That I can't …

Normalcy

Rollin' on Up

I can not go a day on Facebook without seeing a post about people in their 20s. Difference between early twenties and late twenties or 25 Things that Happen when you're 25 or my personal favorite 22 Awesome things about being 22. Let me tell you Buzzfeed about the 1% of the twenty-somethings that have bigger problems to deal with than "You have the physical ability to drink as much as you want, and the disposable income to afford it".

That is number one on the list for "22 Awesome Things about Being 22". When I was 22 I was a senior in college and had just been dumped for the third time by the same cheating asshole. I started working out everyday and counting calories. I wanted to be the hottest I had ever been, so I could show him what a mistake he had made. I was the epitome of a normal 22 year old moron.

That lasted for a month until I was working as a wedding server for my catering class and suddenly got the worst pain in the stomach I had…

Oy Vey

Shut Up. I Hear You.
I am officially creeped out by my body. My Crohns' can not only hear, but listen. I am not kidding. If someone mentions a blueberry or a grapefruit, it starts burning like I'm eating one. If someone discusses how awful Crohns' is, it starts stabbing me in the stomach. Mention my surgeries and my scars hurt. I know what to eat by thinking of the food and seeing if I become nauseous or sick.

My mama and I went to the doctor's office recently because I am not in remission and would like to be. As I sat in the waiting room, my pain scale was about 4, which is the lowest I get to. A four in my book equals roughly an 80 on the normal, healthy people's scale. Imagine you just ate Indian food, then add the worst cramp and stomach pain you've ever had and multiply it by 100. That's about a 2 for me. As we got called back to the office my hips and knees started to give out, so I started walking like a pirate with a peg leg minus the witty parrot.…

Fried Food Sadness

Let me smell your fries
Who doesn't love food? Mozzarella sticks, onion rings, chicken tenders were shoved into my mouth on the regular. None of them are healthy and that is why I loved them. I ate when I was hungry or drunk or bored. Sometimes all three. In college I had a quick-service restaurant that specialized in fried treats one floor below mine. I used to house a chicken tender wrap with ranch dressing and a side of potato wedges daily. I was never heavy or portly shockingly. I did gain the freshman 15, but I also tanned every day and looked like a moron, so no one noticed the fatty I had turned into. Then suddenly my whole life changed. The foods I loved were gone and all I had left were the memories and crumbs of battered and deep fat fried goodness left in my rolls.

I was in Disney World interning at Artist Point in the Wilderness Lodge and living with my favorite five girls in 3609. Crohns' was working it's hardest to take my colon, so my mom came down from Mary…

The "Chef"

Wine no More
After the Iranian God and before I dated my 4th (!!!) guy who didn't have a car because of multiple DUIs, I went on a date with a "chef". I had been exchanging emails and texts with him for a few weeks. I didn't find him incredibly good looking, as he was a balding, plain white guy, but he did have a semi-cute face. And he was a CHEF. A CHEF!! That is my instant panty dropper. Don't even get me started on Top Chef...woooo buddy.

I came home from a long day at work and he texted me to meet him for a drink in Rockville Town Center. Annie told me to accept his offer, so of course I did. Damn that bitch and my immense love for her. I changed my clothes and told him I would meet him at La Tasca in 20 minutes. As Annie sat on our perfectly cushioned couch and watched Pretty Little Liars, I sank my head in regret and shame and walked out the door. 

I got to the restaurant and sat down at the bar, creepily staring at the weirdos surrounding me. I could not beli…

New Direction

Damn Him for Being Right
On Saturday my sister, brother-in-law, and I went and had a pleasant lunch. As we came up to the same light that Nick (my brother-in-law) had once asked Sionne (my sister) to smell his beard, Nick became enraged when Sionne said that she had mentioned Nan (my "cousin")'s help in my blog and not his.Nick is not even on Facebook, where the previous mentioning had occurred, but was none the less infuriated. He pointed out, in the loudest tone conceivable, that the blog was his idea and he deserved all the credit. I shouted from the back seat, you know the place where all younger siblings have to be, that I deserved the credit because I write and create it. But of course that fell on deaf ears. Sionne was arguing that my blog was about online dating, which was Nan's idea. Not Crohn's Disease, which was Nick's idea. We dropped it when we entered the restaurant because we are fat and were starving. 
After lunch they came back to my house to p…

Virginia is for Lovers?!?

Back off me freaks



First things first. VIRGINIA IS PERVERTED. Yes, in a perfect world the whole state should not be blamed for the acts of a few creeps. BUT, this is not a perfect world so please fix your marriages and stay away from me and my lovely lady parts. OK. Second things second. Clearly, the second and third guy have got to be the same guy. Now, is this just a copy and pasted message that he sends out to all potential victims? I mean dates. Also, why me? What was it about my profile that screams slutty ho down to be complicit in adultery? I am going to just blame my beautiful breasts for this and move on. 

No. This is not dating.

The Iranian God
I started online dating after everyone in the world told me I had to move on from my last breakup. Considering I hardly leave the ecstasy that is my couch, I thought it was the best option. I joined okcupid because it was free and I am poor. I was unaware at the time that it is a hook-up website...I found out quickly.  My first few days I got an overwhelming amount of emails from men and a few women. Most I did not return because I am vain and they were not up to my incredibly high internet standards. I exchanged a couple of messages with a few hot guys until they bored me and/or actually wanted to meet for a date. Yes, I am aware I was on a dating site, so DUH they would want to go on a date.  I decided that I should also join match.com because their commercials were pretty cute and I hadn't found a couch husband. The flood of 2s and 4s came through my inbox and I quickly rejected them all. Then suddenly the hottest man I have ever seen sent me an email. After a brie…