All By Myself

So much to say today but as I am lying in the dark, my fat pregnant fingers trying to correctly touch my IPhone, as the urge to blog is overwhelming, the content will likely be messy and incorrect.

Married, am I! The ceremony was strange to say the least. Very "not us." Surreal like we had both woken up in Royston Vasey. We giggled through, well I did, trying hard to keep it together. The boy looked like he was going to keel over at one point, his eyes getting bigger and bigger as the colour drained from his face. But he stayed upright and managed to consent to becoming my husband.

Here is one...

An incredibly difficult weekend which I haven't got the energy to go into.

Packed cases and piles of clothes are lurking in the hallway ready for the car to be loaded and one more sleep to follow until we leave on our journey to The Lakes.

17 people, 2 dogs, a Tuesday wedding (mine) and no internet access for 5 days :)

You, me and your ego...lets do lunch!

Slowly I'm remembering why I can't abide being around my family. Not my unit of course, but the siblings, parents and grandparent. I face being enclosed with them for four days and I am fearful for the scrap of insanity I have.

Tomorrow eve I shall not only be in the company of my bestest bud, but in the company of a public house full of random strangers. Can I face loud music and drunken fools? Most likely not!

I don't think R was too amused with my rantings over the office skank either. As if I would entertain the suggestion of socialising with her! I have no issues with promiscuous females and used to proudly wear the whore badge myself, but at least I used to admit my craving for sexual adventures instead of claiming purity. Maybe that's why I am so offended by her, having a similar path to my old pavement yet she denies it as if something to be ashamed of. Her thick scouse transvestite voice doesn't ease the situation either, or her lack of intelligence. It's pretty safe to say that if she turns up, like I suspect, I shall be vacating speedily, even if it offends R.

My second issue of the day is the craziness of celebrating somebody getting voluntary redundancy (who clearly deserved to be fired rather than paid off) using their new found funds and freedom to go on an extended holiday. Yes, it's nice for him to go globe-trotting, yet I don't feel it deserves a meal/night out with a crowd that won't bother turning up tomorrow to celebrate the boy's stag do.

I don't understand how the boy can be so carefree about it, as I am highly miffed. I suppose I take it personally as

a) I'm pretty sure that couples will be going for the meal and shocker...I'm not invited and

b) They don't want him to marry me, well in particular, his best pal doesn't.

 Maybe it's jealousy on his part, that his friend is settling down and he can't find a relationship or maybe he simply detests me, either way, life goes on while he goes travelling. 

Just Look At You - You're A Tragedy

Sad is the girl who sneaks back into bed next to her boy, gently caressing his thigh, trying to wake him as she masturbates slowly next to him, preparing for much needed filth...
..for him to wake, check his phone for new Tweets and get out of bed.

And We'll All Float On Okay

The outlook for Wednesday is slightly more upbeat, well, not upbeat, as that is an energy I simply don't possess at the moment, but definitely feel a smidgen more positive.
Last night's dreams were erotic and I remember them fairly well. At least they contained the boy in a good way, participating with moi (rather than me being the helpless, betrayed bystander) awakening me to a bizarre orgasm that sort of happened but kind of didn't.
It could have been triggered by us having sex last night which was surprising and much appreciated. He was feeling yucky and had been dozing yet he still managed to reach inside and find a sprinkling of energy to move his fingers over my hip and pull his body close to mine. His fingers touching my hip makes it impossible for me not to smile. Sometimes I have to hide it, as it becomes uncontrollable and I don't want him to see me grinning like a Cheshire cat in sheer relief knowing I am about to be fucked.
All my distresses have been converted into horniness as some form of coping mechanism and I can't think about anything else today apart from depraved filth.
I like me at my dirty worst.
Something fairly primal takes over and I am blinkered towards anything other than sexual pleasure. I go into a predatory mode and these kind of times are dangerous for me, or so they used to be. At least now I am with the boy I am within safety and miscalculated, damn right stupid risks will be avoided. Until the boy arrives home, which undoubtedly he will be too tired or poorly for depravity, I shall have to make do with pornography. Hormones are making it increasingly difficult for conventional porn. Fetish and taboo are the way forward. Even fetishes that are not my bag, are a must. There is nothing more yawn generating that a man and a woman fornicating in an unimaginative way. This girl needs the messiest of dirt.
I could quite happily spend the day blindfolded and bound ready for things to be placed in every orifice. Maybe my head is just tired and my body is ready to take some of the strain for awhile.

Sign O' The Times

After my last entry, I sat back on the sofa and exhaled. Pondering whether to begin sorting my head out or whether to give up. Wondering if I would be a hideous person by going through with the wedding, wishing for some kind of sign, any glimmer of hope...

I flip onto Facebook for some temporary distraction and see

Sophie Xxxxxxx Xxxxx "I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best." Marilyn Monroe
31 minutes ago · Comment ·

So I consider this momentarily, maybe this is a test and have been plunged into my worst for various reasons that I have no sway over and by the boy still wanting to marry me now, then I have it proven that he deserves my best too and more importantly, that I deserve to be at my best. I click on Sophie's profile and click on a comment made by her friend. This in turn leads me to her profile where I find...

"I myself am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions."

Okay... I admit it... I am reaching for anything to grab onto. But when I sit muttering to myself about wanting a tiny glitter sparkle of one, then I will happily take it when appears.

Sea Of Trouble

A hopeless void of despair is the pit I find myself sobbing in, rather than the excited, nervous, bride to be, who is looking forward to her future of endless positive possibilities. I have proven yet again to be a "fuck up" and if there was an ounce of selflessness in me then I would allow him to escape the up coming nuptials. Not that he would opt out. He is far too responsible to refuse marrying his pregnant girlfriend and risk disappointing his future step-children, so  I would have to take measures into my own nail bitten, shaking hands. Can I allow him to stand by my side and commit to being my "partner in crime" (or after today, "partner in fraud") knowing that I will drag him down with me?
My faults are never through bad intention, I hope to think it's a case of bad luck or bad judgement. Ideally I would like to think of my situation as "things just going wrong," and in the karma stakes, eventually,  I would deserve for things to go right. Maybe I'm in denial and that really, I'm like a character from a film, a sort of natural disaster, a hurricane of negativity, a force of fuckedness. Maybe I am getting exactly what I deserve now, that all this badness is a result of my past. That there was a period of me being such an evil person, yet I just don't remember due to selective amnesia, and I will face stressful eternity as punishment. The problem is, do I bring everyone else along for the ride?
Maybe I am feeling particularly low, maybe money shouldn't have such an impact in my life, maybe my hormones are just smothering my rationality or maybe I feel guilty for absolutely everything beyond my control. I just feel a storm brewing...
Not a row, nor argument of volume, more of a complete solo release. My atmosphere is definitely disturbed, the opposing feeling of wanting to celebrate love, family and future conflicting with the dread of potential stresses and fear of being hurt is causing the pressure to rise.
Maybe my internal violent destructive side will erupt, my body and mind will spin and soar, wail and bolt until all that is left is the calm...
...floating in a silent pool of emptiness with all energy expelled seems rather appealing.
The only thing to consider now is do I give the storm warning to others and hope they will listen? Allow them to evacuate and hope they will return as part of the rescue operation?

Everything's Changing

I feel like screaming this morning, partly in fear, somewhat in anger, towards my rapidly changing body.

Today was to be a positive one, until I pulled my cagoule over my head and it caught on my bump, which certainly didn't happen yesterday. After trying my dress on last night and trying to reassure myself that I didn't look like a hideous, bloated cartoon, that will be ridiculed in the registry office. I now face the sheer stress of having to try it on again for size tonight. There is no glimmer of hope inside my swollen body that I will not look like a stretched, rippled, ivory hippo.

My reflection looks less upsetting full frontal, however my profile could bring tears instantly. No-one must stand to the side of me, which could prove tricky. I may have to constantly twist and spin to stand face to face. A rippled ivory hippo/Tasmanian devil is what I shall be.

Just to ram it all home, the under-wire in my bra has been creaking today. Each time I hear the noise, I feel like a geriatric, dusty old maiden that hasn't had any boob action since her youth and that if I bear to look down under the sighing bra, cobwebs will be swaying in the breeze to visually highlight each groan. 

Just to add onto my ever increasing list of current fears/stresses, I now have it in my head that the boy will not go near my boobs once I am lactating. Luckily, I am running behind schedule, well, maybe not so luckily on my part, as lactation is induced by stimulation. Do I demand more stimulation as I am clearly being neglected, which in turn will result in milk, thus freaking out the boy or delay his angst and maintain the lack of tit attention? But if I am to refrain from any boob action, why do I care if he is freaked? My head hurts badly. There is a definite retardation during pregnancy. I'm not sure what causes it, maybe hormones? Does my body place me in a state of absent-mindedness in order for me to forget the trauma of pregnancy in the hope I will procreate once again? 
Do I become this dumb during menstruation? I'm sure the boy would insist I do.