Do people always judge you by what they first see, or how you look? Of course they do. It would be idiotic to think otherwise. Well that one statement has got me thinking. What do people see when they look at me? I know when I look at myself I see a young girl with blueish eyes, brownish hair and a mole on the right side, above her lip. I see someone by societies standards is attractive, I suppose. But then you scroll down my body and I don't see societies version of attractive. I'm not a size zero; I don't have huge breasts; my thighs touch. But I've heard from plenty of people that I have a nice body, so fuck what society says.
When you first see someone you don't just judge them on their looks, though. Say you see a very attractive lady with perfect hair and a perfect body, what is the first thing you're going to think? If I were to see someone like this, I would think she is a bimbo. She obviously thinks she is better than everyone because she's so attractive. That might be the case but you'd never really know unless you got to know her.
I wonder what people think I'm like when they look at me? I doubt they imagine I'm into video games or that I listen to hardcore music. Here's some things people normally don't except me to do or like.
Music
What kind of music do you think I listen to? I've had people tell me I looked like the type of girl to listen to radio music. How do you look like the type of girl to listen to mainstream music? It was a confusing statement. The majority of the music I listen to is classified as hardcore/screamo/alternative. One of my most favourite bands is Underoath. I've been listening to them since I was 15. You'd think I'd eventually grow out of my little girl music, but they've stuck with me through the years. I mean I do have my guilty pleasure bands but "you look like you listen to radio music", come on people! I'm still confused.
Driving
I drive a standard. I've only been driving my Accord for eight months but I will not go back to an automatic.
Lifestyle
I'm a fat person stuck in a thin persons body. I eat and eat and eat. I'm surprised I don't eat my mother out of money. I'm not talking healthy food either. A big donair platter or a Harveys burger are where it's at. Sure I look like I care about my body and take care of it. But I haven't worked out in over a year and I don't really plan on starting anytime soon. Although, I probably should.
Games
I always play video games. But none of those new school shooting games. I'm really bad at those. The first time I ever played Call of Duty with Chelsey I spun in a circle and held the trigger. I'd much rather play a good ol' game of Super Mario or Pokemon. I always make it to the Bowser stage and then stop playing. I figure I made it that far, what's the point in finishing.
I don't know what sort of "category" this should be placed into so here it is. I know I seem confident about myself; I'm not. I play like I am because it gets your farther than being a timid girl. I apparently have generalized anxiety and panic disorder. Not cool, but oh well. It is what it is.
I'm sure there's more things, but sometimes I get so distracted I forget what I'm writing about. I really wish I could just ask people what they thought about me when they first met me; who they thought I was, or what I was interested in. It would be extremely interesting to know. What did you think?
Thursday, 12 April 2012
Wednesday, 11 April 2012
The Past
Hello,
Today started out a bit hectic; woke up late, fought with my very cranky sister and rushed to class. I almost forgot to get gas though, I wouldn't have made it very far with my gas light on. I've been thinking a lot about my crazy ex-boyfriend. Not in the whole "I miss you so much, let's get back together" way, because I'm beyond happy with Donald. I just want to get out how he made me feel, what I had to go through and how I made it through it.
I'm not going to use a fake name because I want people to know how terrible of a person he is. I know that sounds a bit harsh but he deserves it. He deserves anything that comes to him, except the good things.
I met Michael in the summer of 2009. He had all the qualities girls look for in a guy. He was tall, dark and handsome. He was quiet and mysterious, but once you got to know him he was exciting and hilarious. We hit it off right away. We started seeing each other in October, but he was a little weird about the whole boyfriend/girlfriend status. So I just avoided giving our relationship a label. It wasn't until the end of December that it started bothering me. We had been together for three months but he had no intention of making me his girlfriend which made me feel like he wasn't fully committed. I would hound, bug, bother, question and however else you can ask a person why he wouldn't make me his girlfriend, but he never had an answer. Christmas Eve was when he did it, although I feel like I had pressured him into it. But whatever, right? I was happy and he seemed to be as well.
He was very insecure about himself; he never felt good enough for anyone. His mother had left him when he was younger and he never heard from her again which I think caused his confidence issues. I tried to make him feel as good as he could about himself, it never helped. He was still very self conscious. This is going to be really honest of me, but I had slept with more people than he had which made him feel like less of a man, I guess you could say. He would question me on every guy I knew, even though I kept to myself. I didn't talk to anyone except for a few girl friends. I had Michael, I didn't need any other guys. But he became even more persistent with the questioning. We would see guys I went to high school with out and about, they would say hi, I would respond and then he'd turn to me "DID YOU SLEEP WITH HIM?!" It became very overwhelming for me. I have a hard time handling being pressured and questioned.
I figured it would eventually get better, but it was a downhill spiral from there. The more we got to know each other the more intimidating he became. I guess you could say he was really starting to show his true colours. I thought everything was good between us until my friends started noticing the way he was acting. He was controlling, so much that if I was out with my best GIRL friend Madison he'd be jealous. "What are you doing out with her?" he'd ask, "I can't believe you'd rather be out with Madison, then here with me." I just tried to make him feel bad like I always did. "Madison, you know he's insecure. I feel bad, I can't do this to him." She thought I was losing my mind.
I brushed that off though. He was the only person I saw. I was with him every night, I didn't leave my house unless I was going to work. He'd get mad if I slept when he was over. I was working seven days on, one day off, so believe me I was super tired all the time. But I couldn't sleep when he was over. I was expected to wait until he was done at the gym before I did anything or started to watch a movie. I thought it was a bit extreme, but I must have been blinded by my "love." What a naive girl I was.
The summer of 2010 was coming to an end and things were still increasingly getting worse. He was getting much more vocal with me when we fought. It was starting to scare me now. But I continued to ignore it; rookie mistake. He was 6'3", 210 lbs and I was 5'6", 140 lbs. There was a big difference between us. I did put on a few pounds when we were dating because I felt comfortable with him. He didn't like that though. "Ashley, maybe you should start going to the gym. Your arms are looking a little chubby." he would say as he pinched my arms. I had noticed the extra weight, I just wasn't worried about it. I was now though. The gym and I became best friends. I would go everyday for at least 2 hours. Do you know how hard it is to lose weight? All I can say is I was at this for months and barely lost any.
By the fall I wasn't even "allowed" to go to parties. I cried every night, I hadn't seen Madison in a few months. I missed her so much. I decided I was going to go out with her one night to a friends house. He was having a get together, I hadn't seen him since Michael and I started dating so I figured it'd be nice to finally see him. I was getting call after call from Michael, he knew where I was. He threatened to break up with me. Madison and I left and I cried to her about it. This is the first time I had been this open with Madison since high school. I was in her arms crying my heart out. I love Madison, I don't know what I would have done if I didn't have her with me that night.
By Christmas time we were on completely bad terms. I decided things had to come to an end. January 14th I broke up with Michael. We had a trip planned to Montreal at the end of January, so I made it clear to him if he could calm down and be a nice guy for once then we'd still go. And so he was. I saw a different person. He was a nice guy, he did so much for me. I was surprised and happy beyond belief. I thought things would work out.
We headed off to Montreal. I still wasn't being "couplely" with him. But things were going great. We were smiling, laughing and having a really good time. My best friend Michele lives in Montreal so we were there visiting her. We decided to go out one night to an amateur dubstep show. Michael left early for some stupid reason. When I made it back to the hotel, he was his old self again. The scary Michael, but this time I could see something in his eyes that wasn't quite right. I went and sat down on the couch and started texting Michele. I was so nervous. I don't know why he was angry; I don't even know how the fight started. He grabbed my phone, I don't like when people touch my phone. He pushed him away from me and went to the bed room. He chased after me. picked me up and threw me on the bed. Bad. I got back up and pushed him again. He didn't move to far, he was a lot bigger than I was. Even worse. He grabbed my phone again, I bit his hand and he hit me in the face. It wasn't a super hard hit, but hard enough that I got a fat lip. "I'm going to take this knife into the bathroom Ashley and I'm not going to come out." I was screaming, I didn't know what to do. He went into the bathroom. This was our last night there, he needed to come out of the bathroom. He slept in there, I slept on the couch.
The next morning I told him I never wanted to see him again. Today was the last day he'd ever see me, Michael and I were officially over. When we got back to Nova Scotia things started going great. I made new friends and started working a regular schedule at work. The only bad thing was I was losing a lot of weight. I was pretty streesed out because I did miss Michael, as terrible as that sounds. I had dropped fifteen pounds, skinny Ashley again. Michael would have liked to see me like this.
I started getting texts from him, cruel texts.
"Your tattoo is hideous.
"You're the biggest whore in all of Sackville. You'll take anyones dick won't you?"
"You're so fat. Your body is the most disgusting thing I've ever seen."
"You are the ugliest girl I've ever dated."
This is where I found out he had cheated on me. Michael had cheated on me three weeks into our relationship. I didn't find out until three weeks after we broke up. A whole year I went not knowing he cheated on me. "How could I pass up fucking such a hott girl Ashley?" Well excuse me, you could have said you had a girlfriend. Or you could have just called me that night and said "Sorry Ash, we're done." I would have been much happier.
My parents went away in March for a week with my grandparents, aunt and uncle. It was just my sister, Chelsey and I. Which really couldn't have been much worse. I was getting texts from Michael saying he was going to come kill me, if I didn't kill myself. He was going to use his bare hands. He was sending pictures of guns, "all I have to do is the find the bullets Ashley." I didn't want him to hurt me, I didn't want my sister to be in danger either.
I went downtown one night with Madison and he showed up. I was loaded, of course, having a great time. I saw him when I was on the dance floor. He came flying by me and pushed me so hard I landed on the floor. No one did anything, people were watching but no one did anything. I chased after him and pushed him back. He picked me up, walked me off the dance floor and started yelling in my face and shaking me. No one did anything. Why wasn't anyone doing anything? A huge meat head was shaking and yelling at a girl. In this moment I panicked. I ran outside with Madison and hid. I called my mother and told her to hurry up and get to Halifax. We were almost home when I noticed Michaels black cobalt behind us. Had he really followed us home? That's when I received the phone call. "I got a DUI Ashley." How could he have gotten a DUI and continued driving after? What a liar. My mom told Madison and I to hurry in the house, she'd stay out and talk to him. An hour later she comes in the house and told us he's gone.
I didn't hear from him much anymore until one Saturday he turned up at my work at 5:30am, drunk. I just started my shift and he sat in the corner. My assitant manager, Kathryn, knew all about him and how he treated me. She made me sit in the back office. Then the mean texts started coming in. The mean texts turned into "I love you and miss you so much" texts then back into the cruel texts. By seven he was gone. I was shaking; I was nervous. What was wrong with me? Why had I stayed with this lunatic for so long? Why?!
I met Donald in April 2011. I saw him at a party and knew I was going to be with him. He just completely stood out at this party. I had to find out who he was. And of course, I did. After a month or so of us seeing each other I received a call from Michael. Oh great. "Yes Michael, what do you want?" He told me he took nine pills and slit his wrist. I laughed at him and told him to stop being such a baby. A little harsh, but I knew I had to say it. He wouldn't kill himself. I hung up the phone. I felt good. I felt empowered. I didn't feel like I had to make him feel good. I needed to make myself happy before him. And I was happy. Donald made me happier than I had been in a while. It was this day that I realized that Michaell could no longer run my life. He had lost his power over me. I'm so happy for that.
Today started out a bit hectic; woke up late, fought with my very cranky sister and rushed to class. I almost forgot to get gas though, I wouldn't have made it very far with my gas light on. I've been thinking a lot about my crazy ex-boyfriend. Not in the whole "I miss you so much, let's get back together" way, because I'm beyond happy with Donald. I just want to get out how he made me feel, what I had to go through and how I made it through it.
I'm not going to use a fake name because I want people to know how terrible of a person he is. I know that sounds a bit harsh but he deserves it. He deserves anything that comes to him, except the good things.
I met Michael in the summer of 2009. He had all the qualities girls look for in a guy. He was tall, dark and handsome. He was quiet and mysterious, but once you got to know him he was exciting and hilarious. We hit it off right away. We started seeing each other in October, but he was a little weird about the whole boyfriend/girlfriend status. So I just avoided giving our relationship a label. It wasn't until the end of December that it started bothering me. We had been together for three months but he had no intention of making me his girlfriend which made me feel like he wasn't fully committed. I would hound, bug, bother, question and however else you can ask a person why he wouldn't make me his girlfriend, but he never had an answer. Christmas Eve was when he did it, although I feel like I had pressured him into it. But whatever, right? I was happy and he seemed to be as well.
He was very insecure about himself; he never felt good enough for anyone. His mother had left him when he was younger and he never heard from her again which I think caused his confidence issues. I tried to make him feel as good as he could about himself, it never helped. He was still very self conscious. This is going to be really honest of me, but I had slept with more people than he had which made him feel like less of a man, I guess you could say. He would question me on every guy I knew, even though I kept to myself. I didn't talk to anyone except for a few girl friends. I had Michael, I didn't need any other guys. But he became even more persistent with the questioning. We would see guys I went to high school with out and about, they would say hi, I would respond and then he'd turn to me "DID YOU SLEEP WITH HIM?!" It became very overwhelming for me. I have a hard time handling being pressured and questioned.
I figured it would eventually get better, but it was a downhill spiral from there. The more we got to know each other the more intimidating he became. I guess you could say he was really starting to show his true colours. I thought everything was good between us until my friends started noticing the way he was acting. He was controlling, so much that if I was out with my best GIRL friend Madison he'd be jealous. "What are you doing out with her?" he'd ask, "I can't believe you'd rather be out with Madison, then here with me." I just tried to make him feel bad like I always did. "Madison, you know he's insecure. I feel bad, I can't do this to him." She thought I was losing my mind.
I brushed that off though. He was the only person I saw. I was with him every night, I didn't leave my house unless I was going to work. He'd get mad if I slept when he was over. I was working seven days on, one day off, so believe me I was super tired all the time. But I couldn't sleep when he was over. I was expected to wait until he was done at the gym before I did anything or started to watch a movie. I thought it was a bit extreme, but I must have been blinded by my "love." What a naive girl I was.
The summer of 2010 was coming to an end and things were still increasingly getting worse. He was getting much more vocal with me when we fought. It was starting to scare me now. But I continued to ignore it; rookie mistake. He was 6'3", 210 lbs and I was 5'6", 140 lbs. There was a big difference between us. I did put on a few pounds when we were dating because I felt comfortable with him. He didn't like that though. "Ashley, maybe you should start going to the gym. Your arms are looking a little chubby." he would say as he pinched my arms. I had noticed the extra weight, I just wasn't worried about it. I was now though. The gym and I became best friends. I would go everyday for at least 2 hours. Do you know how hard it is to lose weight? All I can say is I was at this for months and barely lost any.
By the fall I wasn't even "allowed" to go to parties. I cried every night, I hadn't seen Madison in a few months. I missed her so much. I decided I was going to go out with her one night to a friends house. He was having a get together, I hadn't seen him since Michael and I started dating so I figured it'd be nice to finally see him. I was getting call after call from Michael, he knew where I was. He threatened to break up with me. Madison and I left and I cried to her about it. This is the first time I had been this open with Madison since high school. I was in her arms crying my heart out. I love Madison, I don't know what I would have done if I didn't have her with me that night.
By Christmas time we were on completely bad terms. I decided things had to come to an end. January 14th I broke up with Michael. We had a trip planned to Montreal at the end of January, so I made it clear to him if he could calm down and be a nice guy for once then we'd still go. And so he was. I saw a different person. He was a nice guy, he did so much for me. I was surprised and happy beyond belief. I thought things would work out.
We headed off to Montreal. I still wasn't being "couplely" with him. But things were going great. We were smiling, laughing and having a really good time. My best friend Michele lives in Montreal so we were there visiting her. We decided to go out one night to an amateur dubstep show. Michael left early for some stupid reason. When I made it back to the hotel, he was his old self again. The scary Michael, but this time I could see something in his eyes that wasn't quite right. I went and sat down on the couch and started texting Michele. I was so nervous. I don't know why he was angry; I don't even know how the fight started. He grabbed my phone, I don't like when people touch my phone. He pushed him away from me and went to the bed room. He chased after me. picked me up and threw me on the bed. Bad. I got back up and pushed him again. He didn't move to far, he was a lot bigger than I was. Even worse. He grabbed my phone again, I bit his hand and he hit me in the face. It wasn't a super hard hit, but hard enough that I got a fat lip. "I'm going to take this knife into the bathroom Ashley and I'm not going to come out." I was screaming, I didn't know what to do. He went into the bathroom. This was our last night there, he needed to come out of the bathroom. He slept in there, I slept on the couch.
The next morning I told him I never wanted to see him again. Today was the last day he'd ever see me, Michael and I were officially over. When we got back to Nova Scotia things started going great. I made new friends and started working a regular schedule at work. The only bad thing was I was losing a lot of weight. I was pretty streesed out because I did miss Michael, as terrible as that sounds. I had dropped fifteen pounds, skinny Ashley again. Michael would have liked to see me like this.
I started getting texts from him, cruel texts.
"Your tattoo is hideous.
"You're the biggest whore in all of Sackville. You'll take anyones dick won't you?"
"You're so fat. Your body is the most disgusting thing I've ever seen."
"You are the ugliest girl I've ever dated."
This is where I found out he had cheated on me. Michael had cheated on me three weeks into our relationship. I didn't find out until three weeks after we broke up. A whole year I went not knowing he cheated on me. "How could I pass up fucking such a hott girl Ashley?" Well excuse me, you could have said you had a girlfriend. Or you could have just called me that night and said "Sorry Ash, we're done." I would have been much happier.
My parents went away in March for a week with my grandparents, aunt and uncle. It was just my sister, Chelsey and I. Which really couldn't have been much worse. I was getting texts from Michael saying he was going to come kill me, if I didn't kill myself. He was going to use his bare hands. He was sending pictures of guns, "all I have to do is the find the bullets Ashley." I didn't want him to hurt me, I didn't want my sister to be in danger either.
I went downtown one night with Madison and he showed up. I was loaded, of course, having a great time. I saw him when I was on the dance floor. He came flying by me and pushed me so hard I landed on the floor. No one did anything, people were watching but no one did anything. I chased after him and pushed him back. He picked me up, walked me off the dance floor and started yelling in my face and shaking me. No one did anything. Why wasn't anyone doing anything? A huge meat head was shaking and yelling at a girl. In this moment I panicked. I ran outside with Madison and hid. I called my mother and told her to hurry up and get to Halifax. We were almost home when I noticed Michaels black cobalt behind us. Had he really followed us home? That's when I received the phone call. "I got a DUI Ashley." How could he have gotten a DUI and continued driving after? What a liar. My mom told Madison and I to hurry in the house, she'd stay out and talk to him. An hour later she comes in the house and told us he's gone.
I didn't hear from him much anymore until one Saturday he turned up at my work at 5:30am, drunk. I just started my shift and he sat in the corner. My assitant manager, Kathryn, knew all about him and how he treated me. She made me sit in the back office. Then the mean texts started coming in. The mean texts turned into "I love you and miss you so much" texts then back into the cruel texts. By seven he was gone. I was shaking; I was nervous. What was wrong with me? Why had I stayed with this lunatic for so long? Why?!
I met Donald in April 2011. I saw him at a party and knew I was going to be with him. He just completely stood out at this party. I had to find out who he was. And of course, I did. After a month or so of us seeing each other I received a call from Michael. Oh great. "Yes Michael, what do you want?" He told me he took nine pills and slit his wrist. I laughed at him and told him to stop being such a baby. A little harsh, but I knew I had to say it. He wouldn't kill himself. I hung up the phone. I felt good. I felt empowered. I didn't feel like I had to make him feel good. I needed to make myself happy before him. And I was happy. Donald made me happier than I had been in a while. It was this day that I realized that Michaell could no longer run my life. He had lost his power over me. I'm so happy for that.
Thursday, 5 April 2012
My Little Sister
Hello everyone,
Today I decided to write about my younger sister, Chelsey. Or as I call her, Cmoore. Even though she is five years younger than me, I feel closer to her than anyone my own age. She is the most beautiful I've ever seen, even though she wouldn't believe me if I told her that. I feel very lucky to have my sister as a best friend. Not many people can say they're as close to their siblings as I am.
When she was younger, she was by far the most annoying child. I didn't know how my mother put up with her. She would whine and cry and then whine some more. I was hoping she would start maturing soon, I mean she did have an older sister. You would think she would be a little more mature than she was. As the years went on our relationship wasn't getting any better. We didn't have anything in common, she barely came out of her room and her friends were all a little odd. And by all means, I'm not saying I was the most normal kid in the world, I was quite a weird teenager. If our parents left us home alone things would go bad. We would always get into huge fights where she'd hit me and I'd end up almost pouring hot hamburger grease on her. Well.. okay, that only happened once, but they were pretty heated arguments.
When she entered grade seven it seemed her whole world changed around. She began to lose weight, she started to become much healthier. She had a lot of good people around her and I was proud of her. She started to mature to the point where we'd have enough to talk about for a whole car ride. She began to take interest in things that I had interest in, which gave us even more to talk about.
Like I said earlier, Chelsey is absolutely beautiful. She has long brown hair, but it isn't that mousy brown hair. It shines and feels like silk to the touch. She has brown eyes, not the big, sad puppy kind, but they are gorgeous. She has freckles scattered over her nose and cheeks which add a cutesy aspect to her. She doesn't have a models body, but really who wants to weigh 95 pounds and not be able to eat bacon all the time?! Definitely not my sister or I. Even though she doesn't see it she is beautiful.
A few months ago Chels and I were sitting at Tim Hortons going on tangents about our father and our pasts when she told me that she resented me for the longest time. She resented me because everyone would tell her that I was beautiful but never tell her she was. Her class mates always talked about how pretty her sister was, but made fun of her. One time her teacher pulled her outside the class room and said to her "You know you're beautiful too?" This stuck with me. It makes me so upset knowing that I was the reason my sister and I didn't get along for those years. No one made her feel beautiful and she was too afraid to say anything to anyone at a young age. Now I try to tell her she's beautiful all the time. Make her feel good about herself, since she should always feel good about herself. There is nothing wrong with her, but that's not the way she sees it.
Five years apart, but we're best friends. I love my sister with all of my heart. I couldn't imagine having anyone else as my sister. Although, we still fight and argue as siblings always have, we get along about 95% of the time. She's my rock and I wouldn't change her for anything.
Today I decided to write about my younger sister, Chelsey. Or as I call her, Cmoore. Even though she is five years younger than me, I feel closer to her than anyone my own age. She is the most beautiful I've ever seen, even though she wouldn't believe me if I told her that. I feel very lucky to have my sister as a best friend. Not many people can say they're as close to their siblings as I am.When she was younger, she was by far the most annoying child. I didn't know how my mother put up with her. She would whine and cry and then whine some more. I was hoping she would start maturing soon, I mean she did have an older sister. You would think she would be a little more mature than she was. As the years went on our relationship wasn't getting any better. We didn't have anything in common, she barely came out of her room and her friends were all a little odd. And by all means, I'm not saying I was the most normal kid in the world, I was quite a weird teenager. If our parents left us home alone things would go bad. We would always get into huge fights where she'd hit me and I'd end up almost pouring hot hamburger grease on her. Well.. okay, that only happened once, but they were pretty heated arguments.
When she entered grade seven it seemed her whole world changed around. She began to lose weight, she started to become much healthier. She had a lot of good people around her and I was proud of her. She started to mature to the point where we'd have enough to talk about for a whole car ride. She began to take interest in things that I had interest in, which gave us even more to talk about. Like I said earlier, Chelsey is absolutely beautiful. She has long brown hair, but it isn't that mousy brown hair. It shines and feels like silk to the touch. She has brown eyes, not the big, sad puppy kind, but they are gorgeous. She has freckles scattered over her nose and cheeks which add a cutesy aspect to her. She doesn't have a models body, but really who wants to weigh 95 pounds and not be able to eat bacon all the time?! Definitely not my sister or I. Even though she doesn't see it she is beautiful.
A few months ago Chels and I were sitting at Tim Hortons going on tangents about our father and our pasts when she told me that she resented me for the longest time. She resented me because everyone would tell her that I was beautiful but never tell her she was. Her class mates always talked about how pretty her sister was, but made fun of her. One time her teacher pulled her outside the class room and said to her "You know you're beautiful too?" This stuck with me. It makes me so upset knowing that I was the reason my sister and I didn't get along for those years. No one made her feel beautiful and she was too afraid to say anything to anyone at a young age. Now I try to tell her she's beautiful all the time. Make her feel good about herself, since she should always feel good about herself. There is nothing wrong with her, but that's not the way she sees it.
Wednesday, 4 April 2012
Dancer
Hello all,
I know it has been a while since I've posted, but I felt as though I had lost the desire to write. Not so much that I didn't want to write, I just didn't feel like putting any effort into thinking of a topic for a blog.
Today, I came into class and my instructor asked us to write a blog entry or another writing assignment. I chose the blog entry because I figured it would give me a reason to add another entry to this blog. I always tel myself I'm going to see things through; continue on with things; not give up. But I always seem to give up on things.
I was a dancer for 14 years of my life. I loved dancing more than anything I've ever done. I wouldn't say I was the best dancer nor was I the worst. My favourite class was tap class. I had so much passion for tap dancing. In my eyes, tap dancing is one of hardest to learn. This was the one thing I never wanted to give up. I danced about 15-20 hours a week. I was in the best shape of my life.
The reason I gave up dance wasn't really my choice. I started to feel very.. let's say laggy. I didn't have the energy to even do half of the hours of dance I was so used to. I just wanted to sit down, or sleep. Nothing really interested me anymore and the physical activity just made the pains in my stomach 100 times worse. My mother began to wonder what was going on. I had been missing a lot of dance classes and it wasn't like me to even be late for a class. So she found it a little suspicious. She forced me to go to the doctors. I know forced seems like a really strong word, but that's what she did. I had no intention to go to the doctors, after all I figured I was just coming down with some flu that would eventually pass. That was not the case.
I went to the doctors and explained my symptoms and she didn't think they sounded normal. She set up an appointment with a specialist. He wasn't the friendliest man. When I went in to speak to him about my symptoms I felt like I was in and out in five minutes. I told him everything I was feeling: sick to my stomach, but not the normal "I'm going to throw up" feeling. It was almost like someone was taking a knife a slowly turning it and ruining my guts. I was losing weight almost uncontrollably. I dropped fifteen pounds in two weeks. I was very emaciated. I didn't look healthy and I definitely didn't feel healthy. He set me up with a lot of tests. I had four ultrasounds, a barium swallow, a cat scan and had more blood taken out of me than I can even remember.
The doctor believed I could possibly have crohns/colitis or something like that. When the results were returned to him they noticed that part of my intestine was larger than it should be. They told me there wasn't much they could do for me. It sounded like a crock of shit, but whatever, they're the doctors, right? I hadn't danced in about three months and I still wasn't even close to feeling 100%. I decided to take the rest of the dance year off. I had missed three of our performances and I didn't want to bring my class down anymore than I already had.
It's been almost four years since I stopped dancing and man do I miss it. It was exhillerating and made me feel like I was good at something. I always say I'm going to get back into it but it's very hard to find an adult dance class that actually has experienced dancers in it. Maybe one day I'll get back into it, until then I'll just sit on my butt while reading and writing. Not the best excercise, but what can ya do?
I know it has been a while since I've posted, but I felt as though I had lost the desire to write. Not so much that I didn't want to write, I just didn't feel like putting any effort into thinking of a topic for a blog.
Today, I came into class and my instructor asked us to write a blog entry or another writing assignment. I chose the blog entry because I figured it would give me a reason to add another entry to this blog. I always tel myself I'm going to see things through; continue on with things; not give up. But I always seem to give up on things.
I was a dancer for 14 years of my life. I loved dancing more than anything I've ever done. I wouldn't say I was the best dancer nor was I the worst. My favourite class was tap class. I had so much passion for tap dancing. In my eyes, tap dancing is one of hardest to learn. This was the one thing I never wanted to give up. I danced about 15-20 hours a week. I was in the best shape of my life.
The reason I gave up dance wasn't really my choice. I started to feel very.. let's say laggy. I didn't have the energy to even do half of the hours of dance I was so used to. I just wanted to sit down, or sleep. Nothing really interested me anymore and the physical activity just made the pains in my stomach 100 times worse. My mother began to wonder what was going on. I had been missing a lot of dance classes and it wasn't like me to even be late for a class. So she found it a little suspicious. She forced me to go to the doctors. I know forced seems like a really strong word, but that's what she did. I had no intention to go to the doctors, after all I figured I was just coming down with some flu that would eventually pass. That was not the case.
I went to the doctors and explained my symptoms and she didn't think they sounded normal. She set up an appointment with a specialist. He wasn't the friendliest man. When I went in to speak to him about my symptoms I felt like I was in and out in five minutes. I told him everything I was feeling: sick to my stomach, but not the normal "I'm going to throw up" feeling. It was almost like someone was taking a knife a slowly turning it and ruining my guts. I was losing weight almost uncontrollably. I dropped fifteen pounds in two weeks. I was very emaciated. I didn't look healthy and I definitely didn't feel healthy. He set me up with a lot of tests. I had four ultrasounds, a barium swallow, a cat scan and had more blood taken out of me than I can even remember.
The doctor believed I could possibly have crohns/colitis or something like that. When the results were returned to him they noticed that part of my intestine was larger than it should be. They told me there wasn't much they could do for me. It sounded like a crock of shit, but whatever, they're the doctors, right? I hadn't danced in about three months and I still wasn't even close to feeling 100%. I decided to take the rest of the dance year off. I had missed three of our performances and I didn't want to bring my class down anymore than I already had.
It's been almost four years since I stopped dancing and man do I miss it. It was exhillerating and made me feel like I was good at something. I always say I'm going to get back into it but it's very hard to find an adult dance class that actually has experienced dancers in it. Maybe one day I'll get back into it, until then I'll just sit on my butt while reading and writing. Not the best excercise, but what can ya do?
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