Really? When? Because it certainly hasn't happened since we settled Tuesday.
As a Limping Lesbian, I know that we are much more assailable.
It actually makes me feel quite vulnerable in an area of town that I used to feel comfortable in.
I hold my purse a little closer. I look over my shoulder at just who it is I nervously listen to walking behind me.
I tuck my cell in inaccessible areas, with the idea that if I can't get it, neither can the scum suckers who would try to steal it.
I also know limping is not sexy. I want my sexy walk back dammit! I suppose I can let that one go. At least I'm walking, unlike 4 years ago.
Besides, like Papi always jokes, "Hey, I don't need to try anymore, I'm married!"
Anyway, someone tried to get into our suite yesterday, and I felt quite a bit more leery of my state to be able to protect myself.
All I can say is, I'm super happy I have Sir Bark-A-Lot. This particular opportunist won't come back to our suite, because he knows the little pecker would make too much noise.
The worst part of this is not about the person who tried to break into our suite. The hardest part for me is how insecure I feel about protecting myself.
I'm really not the same person I was 4 years ago.
Nearing the end of my case, I was told my newest diagnosis is a conversion disorder, and was told we'd be referring to this diagnosis a lot in mediation/court.
This meant all my sober, drunken-style staggering, wincing pain, horrid memory and embarrassing disorientation are all caused by this issue.
Kinda like how a panic attack is uncontrollable. Upon being triggered, a switch goes off in your noodle, and all of a sudden, you feel like you have no legs or arms, and your head is 50 ft higher than your shoulders.
In other words, it's all in my head. Really?!? I'm not buyin' it.
If it's all in my head, then when the fuck does this imaginary pain go away? Bring it on bitches, because I'm done!
It also occurred to me that having goats, pigs, chickens, 10 dogs, 50 cats and a donkey may not be the best idea for my bitch of a back.
We're supposed to be going to the DR so that I may live with less pain.
However, I'm not so sure that having our very own version of Dr. Doolittle's empire would be suitable.
Not to mention the veggie garden. Well actually, Papi is going to build me a raised garden so that I don't have to bed over to tend to it.
Good thing, because while I'm tending to the raised garden, he'll be chasing around chickens.
I've maintained that my donkey will be a logical choice. My donkey will be my shopping cart.
I wonder if it could hold my weight? How much can a donkey hold!?!? Can it carry the groceries as well as me when my imaginary pain gets too much to handle? And are males less stubborn than females?!?!
I also found out yesterday that NONE of the snakes are poisonous!!! This is so exciting! I get to play with snakes!
Oh, wait. My sweet friend informed me that they're not called geckos. They're called Anoles. Same idea, but different.
Anyway, I told myself that I really didn't need goats, pigs and chickens to make my bitch of a back flare up, and that the whole idea is to rest in the sun and heal in the ocean.
Yet still, even as we plan our trip there to buy a home, all I envision is a yard filled with critters.
It's almost as if we'll have no choice once we get there, that we'll be donned with animals, whether we like it or not.
Well, maybe my imaginary pain will miraculously disappear when we're there?
All I do know, is I'm bloody well done with this bitch of a back.
She is sooooo fired.
i am glowing with health and wholeness