Sexual harassment

Today, my boss sexually harassed me. He didn't touch me- otherwise I would have just slugged him and been happy to talk to the police about the whole incident.

Instead, he commented that my recent sickness was either 1) Comeuppance for "beating up guys" or 2) because I wasn't having enough sex with my boyfriend.

He then asked me how much sex I have with Sam. And how long it takes us. And to let him know if I ever need someone.

And during this he also insinuated that I was loose and that I had once been a stripper (not that there is anything wrong with being a stripper, your body your choice). But... I just kind of stood there and took it, didn't respond and moved to another part of the store.

There were no witnesses, and even if I tried to do anything litigious, I'd have no case (upstanding member of the community, etc.)

I'm just in shock, I suppose.

Myself

I feel like I'm becoming myself again. I don't know how to describe it, to define it, but it's definitely become noticeable. I used to crack jokes constantly. I was sarcastic, funny- a little spastic. I made people laugh. I was witty.

With Eric, I lost it. I was constantly around people that were not just smarter than me- they were smarter and snooty. My jokes got only strange looks, or the uncomfortable chuckle. Or analyzed- they took things incredibly literally. Eric once said I talked too much, and I was off putting because I was too open. So, I pulled inward, closing myself up, putting up barriers.

When he ended our three year relationship out of the blue one September, I moved back in with my parents. I was different- I didn't fit in like I used to. I used to be the sarcastic, funny, if a little strange daughter. My parents took my silence as snootiness that had rubbed off on me from Eric. We're an open family, so being so closed off was strange.

When I started dating Sam, I still didn't have my self confidence back. It wasn't until a few months ago that I started making silly comments again to him- and even then, only when we were alone.

A few days ago, things just started clicking. I have been wisecracking every chance I get. Yes, my self-esteem is still crap, and my confidence isn't what it used to be- but I'm getting there.

Authorized

I am an Authorized Scadian fighter as of today- super excited about it! Also very sick and have to wake up way to early tomorrow morning.

Whining about my parents.

I get about three Sundays off a month. This one of the two days off a week I get- usually the other is Tuesday, the night I have fighter practice. On occasion, I like to go out on a date with my boyfriend, who lives with my parents in a sort of indentured servitude.

This indentured servitude is starting to go way beyond though. Three Sundays ago, they took him to camp and kidnapped him all weekend, despite promising that he could stay home with me instead (I dislike being in an empty house, it creeps me out).

Last Sunday we were all stuck at camp, getting eaten alive by blackflies in what was obviously a bad idea.

This Sunday, today, I wanted to go out and do something. A movie, dinner, anything. A reason to dress up a little and not look like the fry cook and cashier for some podunk store in the middle of nowhere.

I told my mom I wanted to take Sam out tonight, and she flat out told me no. He was going to be busy all day with the deck. He was too busy to go on a date with me.

The guy I worked my ass off to bring to Maine is now so under my parents' thumb that I never get to see him on my one weekend day off.

My Butt Bruise

Debating on whether or not I'll be able to fight on Tuesday. My left butt cheek is black. No blue, no yellow, not even purple. From about my hip to mid-thigh is black. I iced it, been applying moist heat, but it still hurts to walk.

Fiance brushed it with his hand (accidentally) and I felt the incredible urge to slap him. This is not a feeling I have normally.

I wish that this didn't come off as whiny as it does, but that's how it goes. I do take some pride in the fact that after this happened I still fought three or for melee battles and finished out the large-melee part of practice.

In other news, picked up some decent materials at the local basement-store; one fabric will make a nice tabard, the other will be part of my soft-kit dress.

A confession

A double post after a week of nothing- I'm definitely a sporadic poster. Doesn't matter really, as I have no followers anyway :)

I have a confession to make. I am very guilty of envy. In particular, I envy my sister. She wears a size 2. The girl lives on chicken nuggets and ravioli. She only ever drinks soda. Meanwhile, I haven't had non-diet soda in forever and if I look at a chicken tender I gain three pounds.

I think it would be easier if she wasn't constantly rubbing it in my face. She's snotty, and will often point out girls that are skinnier than I am and call them fat. I hate shopping with her because all the clothes she picks for me are either too large or too small- never anything that could fit me in any dimension.

Going back on my diet today, so I'll be back on track. I want to be back in the lower 130's when I head back to school.

I did a bad thing

Today, I did a bad thing- I gave into a temper-tantrum. I don't have kids, so it wasn't a huge thing, but it's probably a step backwards in training my cat to not wake me up at 4am to go outside.

He's gotten in the bad habit of sitting on the upstairs landing and meowing constantly until someone loses their patience and kicks him outside.

Oh well. Tomorrow is another night where I can try again.

Happy birthday to me!

A great birthday and amazing fighter practice. For the first time since it's been warm enough to be outside it was dry, so we were outside running melees all day.

I started off slow, and on two-stick. I've decided to stop waffling and just take two-stick as a primary weapons form. I definitely feel like it works better for me. However, if I'm going to keep with it, I definitely need a skirt- hockey pants slow me down and make my knees slip, but by the end of the night I was limping from all the shots to my left lower hip/butt cheek area.

Melees were good- I got told to cause "hate and discontent" and fought side by side with our local white belt Sir Ivan, who I hadn't ever spoken to before. I even lived to the end of one battle!

I need to get my confidence up- I would stand still too long trying to make sure that I had proper engagement and that I wasn't team killing- but that is something that comes with practice.

I also need to do more pell work and shorten my sword (as well as pick up a second sword).

My mom came to watch me fight, which was super-awesome. I love my parents, so having them understand what I do even a little bit better is nice. Mom now gets that it's more than just hitting people with sticks- and that's probably the best present of all.


I also got to play with cooking, and made a fruit and bacon platter for practice- it was all gone by the end of the day, and Big Marcus told me he'd teach me to make tomato rosettes- something I've wanted to learn for awhile.

Fighter Practice, Tuesday, May 17th, 2011

Fighter practice tonight was awesome, though it definitely got off to a rough start. I brought in my new armor pieces, and it was approved- but I needed to add kidney protection.

I put on my knees and my hockey pants- immediately the hockey pants started pushing down my knees. So, I stripped off the hockey pants. I knew the danger of going without butt and thigh protection.

I put on my new chest and wore the white jack coat over it. I could.not.move. I could not cross my arms across my chest. So, with some talking to Marcus, I peeled off the jack coat and put on a weight belt for kidney protection.

I then grabbed my sword. All the shields were in use, so I bummed a second sword from someone and went out to fight with Master Julien. I flailed for a bit- I admit that- but after a few bouts things just started to -click-. It was part epiphany. I was spotting openings, and fighting more effectively. I managed to even leg him a few times.

I think I will start fighting dedicated two stick. I feel like I am a more dangerous opponent when I fight two stick. I fight smarter, and with precision. I feel... I don't know. Confident. Definitely more confident than I do when I fight with a shield.

I fought with Julien exclusively tonight, really wanting to get a handle on this.  I'm getting it down, though I've got a couple of bruises in the process. An arming coat is definitely in order, as well as some sort of skirt. Probably will make a coif as well.

Apparently, since my birthday falls on practice next week, I get to fight 23 bouts in a row ^.^ I'll probably faint before 15, but I will faint with happiness overload.

Monday, May 16th, 2011

Having a rough day.

I have an unhealthy body image, and probably an unhealthy relationship to food.

This morning started alright- I'm not losing weight as fast as I thought I would, but I'm still dropping a pound or so a week. Every morning I look at myself in the mirror- can't help it, as it's opposite of the shower. I looked alright to myself. It seemed like I was dropping- I even had the confidence to wear my size 12 jeans.

Work was a different story. As soon as I walked in, I knew it was going to be a rough day. The owner of the store (Gary) is practically bipolar in his mood swings, and today was bad. He lectured me about responsibility the moment I walked in (he thinks anyone under the age of 40 is a moron who is out to rip him off), and then lectured me about not lecturing Sean (the kitchen guy) enough.

I am not a manager, not an assistant manager. I'm like fourth-in-charge at a company of seven. Sean is a 18 year old kid who doesn't listen to me anyway. No one listens to me (something that doesn't bother me 99.8% of the time).

It was a seven hour shift, 1-7, no breaks. At about 5 Gary came up, told me that anyone who wanted to cash their paycheck had to pay their tab, and that if John (the guy I came out of "retirement" to replace) came to get his check I was to pass along the message that John had to talk to Gary to get it. Standard pay day stuff.

The customers were pretty cool today, which was nice.

Mary Ann came in first. Mary Ann is 60-something, and dislikes the fact that I am given more responsibility than her. She doesn't care that I've been there longer, or that I have more experience, or that I'm a nearly full time employee while she cranks out maybe 15 hours a week. She's a relatively nice lady, until I do anything that comes off like I'm slightly in charge. Then she gets snotty.

So, she came in and asked for her check. I handed it to her, she opened it and asked me to cash it. As ordered, I grabbed her tab and started punching it into the register.

"What are you doing?" She practically snarled at me. I blinked at her- confused at her animosity.
 "Gary is being a real asshole about the tabs today- he told me if anyone cashed their check here they have to pay there tab." I answered, in my best 'this isn't my fault' voice. (A voice I perfected when I worked at an answering service.)
"But I shouldn't have to pay my tab- he still owes me money." I shrugged- I've just gotten back from a three-month break, so I don't know how true this is.
"Sorry, 'fraid he was pretty serious about it." I tried to pass the buck, but knew it wasn't going to work.
"He doesn't have to know." She said, sounding smug. I wonder to myself how he wouldn't know- Gary does the deposit every morning, and he knows that she had a tab, and he'd see her check and the fact that she didn't pay her tab and... grr.
"But he would. He watches me on the cameras, and he would know."
"Well then I'll just go somewhere else! Thanks for nothing! I'm not paying my tab until he gives me the money he owes me!" She said, storming out.

I dislike very much getting yelled at for something that was neither under my control, nor that important. Her tab was $6.  The chicken tenders started looking really yummy- my mouth was watering. About fifteen minutes later Mr. Cobb wandered in. Mr. Cobb is an ass. He has often used his weight issue as an excuse to have me follow him around like a personal shopper. I know for a fact he stares at my ass when he makes me get the two-liters off the bottom shelf for him. Anyway, when he lumbered up to the counter I knew it wasn't going to be good.

"I've come to get my son's check." He said, and I could feel a migraine coming on. I faked checking my side drawer, knowing it wasn't there.
"I'm afraid it isn't here." Of course, I had already known that.
"Did he mail it?" He demanded- I need to learn to lie better.
"I believe he wants John to talk to him about it." I said, almost wincing as the words escaped my mouth.
"WHY DOES HE HAVE TO TALK TO HIM ABOUT IT? THERE IS NOTHING TO TALK ABOUT! YOU TELL GARY THAT HE BETTER JUST FUCKING MAIL THAT CHECK!" The man went from cool to nuclear in about .3 seconds. Thankfully, he then stormed out.

For the first time that shift I sat. I wrote Gary a note about both incidents (as politely worded as I could), and left it on his desk. I then scarfed down two chicken tenders. I was still wanting to eat more, but I already felt incredibly guilty.

When I got home, I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. In my mind, I had nearly doubled in size. I could see my double chins, my flabby stomach, my flabby arms. I wanted to cry. Instead I strapped on my tennis shoes and went for a three mile run.

Afterwords, I felt a little better, but I still feel like a disgusting blob. I don't know why I feel that way- I'm overweight, yes. At 153 and 5'1, I'm clinically much heavier than I probably should be. I'm also built for strength, and play a heavy combat sport (I'm a heavy list fighter with the Society for Creative Anachronism).

I just want to feel thin, and pretty. Is that too much to ask?