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1:10 p.m. - 2005-03-08 I like to judge people's decisions and behaviors and when I find them lacking, dissect them to other people. I have a big ass. I have B cup boobies. My hair is too short. My hair is too red. I talk like a hick with a great vocabulary. (okay, the vocabulary part I like, it's the Arkansas accent that just KILLS me yall!) My teeth are not perfectly symmetrical. Sometimes I have a really shitty attitude. I have a really, really fucking bad temper. My skin is starting to get little fine lines around my eyes and mouth. (Fuck dude! I'm only 31!!) I smoke. I curse too much goddamnit to hell! I don't believe in god. I am currently sitting on the fence between Betty Crocker-dom and my old wild child persona and I can't seem to find a good mesh of the two or decide one way or the other. I mean, aprons and cookies or tequila shots and tongue kisses in the back of a smoky bar? I can't decide between the two, and I can't seem to make both girls co-mingle peacefully in the same body. I don't 'give it up' to Groovn-husband often enough, but I can't seem to find the time or the energy. I'm not rich. Bitch. Sometimes I don't spend enough time with my beautiful, 7 year old baby girl. I feel guilty for not wanting to be a breeder and push out a passel of kids until my uterus falls the fuck out already! I have ONE child, I only want ONE child. I like to eat too much junk food. I don't work out NEARLY ENOUGH!! I can't seem to lose any more weight. I'm a size 10, longing to be a size 7 again and that really makes me angry at myself for not being happy with who I am. I dropped out of college with a full scholarship and never went back. I am an insurance agent. I'm the fucking 'man' and I swore I'd always be this free spirited, happy go luck person! I'm a nine to fiver with a house in a subdivision and a privacy fence. Rarely do I get naked and never do I smoke weed and rock out to Led Zeppelin any more. I have more business suits than ripped up cut off Levi's. And that makes me really, really sad.
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