PatienceP's Open Salon Blog

PatienceP's Open Salon BlogStory of Patiencehttp://open.salon.com/user.php?uid=283622Fri, 1 Jun 2012 00:06:04 -0400Bully Dog <p align="left"><strong>You return here</strong></p> <p align="left"><strong>Like a dog to its vomit</strong></p> <p align="left"><strong>Greedily Lapping it up</strong></p> <p align="left"><strong>With your ignorant comments</strong></p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left"><strong>You lifted your manged leg</strong></p> <p align="left"><strong>And tried to mark me with pee</strong></p> <p align="left"><strong>Now go dig another a hole</strong></p> <p align="left"><strong>And let me be</strong></p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left"><strong>I'd too be angry if I were neutered</strong></p> <p align="left"><strong>Tucked away in a pink purse</strong></p> <p align="left"><strong>Dressed in a tutu having no balls</strong></p> <p align="left"><strong>Must be a curse</strong></p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left"><strong>You've barked too long</strong></p> <p align="left"><strong>A nice muzzle I have chosen</strong></p> <p align="left"><strong>No more will you take from me</strong></p> <p align="left"><strong>You know what you've stolen</strong></p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left"><strong>Let me take what is left</strong></p> <p align="left"><strong>And go my own way</strong></p> <p align="left"><strong>I put up my hand</strong></p> <p align="left"><strong>And demand you to stay</strong></p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left"><strong>Your rebarbative barking</strong></p> <p align="left"><strong>With stank dull teeth of yellow</strong></p> <p align="left"><strong>I'll pat you on the head</strong></p> <p align="left"><strong>Go away little fellow</strong></p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left"><strong>I'll even throw </strong></p> <p align="left"><strong>You a greasy bone</strong></p> <p align="left"><strong>Now go fetch you damn dog </strong></p> <p align="left"><strong>And leave me alone</strong></p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EsfkKzAbfhA">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EsfkKzAbfhA</a></p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left">Disclaimer: If you think this poem is about you, it probably is. </p> http://open.salon.com/blog/patiencep/2012/05/16/bully_dog_1http://open.salon.com/blog/patiencep/2012/05/16/bully_dog_1Wed, 16 May 2012 19:05:41 -0400The Child Who Couldn't Be Bought <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">They took her to expensive dinners</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">They bought her gifts like no other</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">They showed her all the lovely things money could buy</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Live with us, be nothing like your mother</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">But wouldn’t that hurt her, she thought</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">They didn’t count on the child who couldn’t be bought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">They said, this will be your new room</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">A home you will live where you may get lost</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Isn’t it amazing</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">So big so vast at only one cost</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">You must be nothing like her and love her not</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">They didn’t count on the child who couldn’t be bought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">But we have cash </span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">But we can pull strings </span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">You will never hear the word NO</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt"><span> </span>If you desire these things</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">To break her mother’s heart they sought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">They didn’t count on the child who couldn’t be bought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">She loved her mother </span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">And she loved her dad</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Why does he make me choose</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">This made her so sad</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">To be in the middle she was caught</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">They didn’t count on the child who couldn’t be bought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Her mother did not know</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">She didn’t say a word</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Her mother thought all was well</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">As a good parent should</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">To tell her she ought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">They didn’t count on the child who couldn’t be bought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Your brother is on board</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">He will drink the juice</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">He is excited to leave your mother</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">She is a sorry excuse</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">This deceit wasn’t what she’d been taught</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">They didn’t count on the child who couldn’t be bought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">The daughter wasn’t let onto the plan</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Her conflicted nature would have made a slip</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Her mother kissed her and her brother</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">And left for the trip</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">The father ready with another to fill her slot </span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">They didn’t count on the child who couldn’t be bought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Upon the mother’s return</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">She was told of the news</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Your son won’t come home again</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">She was confused</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">She tried to understand but was full of fraught</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">She hadn’t counted on a child that could be bought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">She cried and she screamed</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">She called the police, her family and lawyer</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">But there was nothing to do</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Her son didn’t want her</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Her family so sacred had begun to rot</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">She hadn’t counted on a community that could be bought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Hello Daddy</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Why did you do this</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Because your mother is no good</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">She is hurtful and selfish</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Her father in his lies had been caught</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Was angry this child could not be bought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">No, she’s not</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">She loves her son and is good and kind</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">You have made her sad</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">And she is losing her mind</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Good, I’m glad she is distraught</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Soon enough my dear even YOU will be bought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Let’s all be friends like before</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Please return my brother</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">We gave you your chance daughter</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Now I don’t care for you, you are just like your mother</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">To hurt her he sought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">His child who could not be bought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">I have new step-children</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">I have your brother</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">I don’t want you here any longer</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">I don’t need another</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">His words stung, her heart was overwrought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">This was now a child, no matter the price, would never be bought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">But daddy I need you to love me</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">My life without you will be a wreck</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Oh daughter he said</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">What’s love if not in a check</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">She understood and a new father she sought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">One that would love her, never leave her and never be bought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">The daughter grew up</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">She loved many men through the years</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">But she never forgot</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">The first man she loved that brought her tears</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Her decision to stay with her mother had never been rethought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">She went on to raise children who could never be bought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">He had broken up with his daughter</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">And didn’t look back</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Enjoyed a malevolent life</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">And had a heart attack</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Where is my beautiful daughter he thought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">The one who loved me who couldn’t be bought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">He’d lost his way</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">And died poor in a home</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Without the riches, nothing to love</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">He died all alone</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">He was put in a grave in a coffin of wrought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Look at what all the money had bought</span></p> <p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt"> </p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt"><p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-size: 9pt">Disclaimer: You the reader are reading this blog at your own risk. At no time has the writer contacted the reader without their written permission in reference to this blog site. If you find the content of this blog offensive you have the right to never visit this site again. The people, location and events have been changed to protect the innocent; any similarities to any persons either living or dead are purely coincidental. </span></p></span> http://open.salon.com/blog/patiencep/2012/05/13/the_child_who_couldnt_be_boughthttp://open.salon.com/blog/patiencep/2012/05/13/the_child_who_couldnt_be_boughtSun, 13 May 2012 15:05:53 -0400The First Time I Saw Stars <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">I loved my father, my daddy. My sister and I jockeyed for the favorite child position well into our adult lives. She ultimately won, by following the rules and marrying well. My half-brother, never into sports and butch things, but a Madonna follower who painted his high school bedroom fuschia with feminine tendencies and a creative mind; he was never in the running. But we, my father’s girls, all we had to do was to be beautiful and poised, well spoken and look flawless. So we became beautiful adult women through expensive lotions, manicured nails, perfumes, surgeries, injections, cosmetic peels, diets of deprivation and days at the gym so that we could be as beautiful as the bikini clad girls he pointed out to me and admired on the beach when I was younger. He was proud we were his beautiful daughters and I often felt he pitted us against each other by offering more attention to one so the other would “up their game”.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">My parents had two closets in their bedroom suite. One was a massive walk-in with two doors where my father kept his suits, Sansabelt slacks and countless pairs of shiny dress shoes. The other closet, my mother’s, was just a small closet with the one bar across in which my mother kept her outdated clothes she knew she would be able to fit into again one day, but until then she wore her long nightgowns and elastic waist jeans. This to me showed who was the most important in our family, my father. I would often go into his closet and bury myself within the suits and dress shirts hanging up, breathing in his scent. I would put his cologne on my stuffed animals that I kept in my bed and in high school would give my boyfriend a bottle of Monogram cologne, so he would smell like my father minus the gin. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">My father wasn’t an affectionate man. Maybe this is why any sort of attention from this Zeus like figure, the perfect man would make me feel complete. I adored him even though his punishments were often harsh. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">The first man to hit me so hard that I saw stars was my father. I had always thought that was just a saying, but I guess when there is such a forceful blow to the head it knocks your eyes loopy, kind of like when you get your photo taken with a flash, there are little stars in all sorts of colors for a few moments.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">I was 16 and grounded, again, for what, I cannot recall. It could have been as serious as coming home drunk or as innocent as rolling my eyes. My parents had already had it out about my father’s six year affair. My mother was taking everything he had. He was being forced to sell his businesses to pay the child support and alimony so that my mother’s lifestyle of not working and endless shopping would not be affected. Plus he’d agreed to put us all through college.<span>  </span>She got the furniture, cars, boat, boat house, lake lot and the home we lived in. He got his car, most of his clothes and rented a musty, dark basement apartment. He left all of his whites she had turned pink in the washing machine.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">My mother methodically went through another crisis when she made my father leave, but mostly when we had company visiting or when she went to a friend’s house. The tears would flow and the fists would bang on the kitchen table while she received the much desired attention she craved. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">Maybe I should have comforted her too, not turned away when she was crouched on the floor blubbering about how she would never find another man to take care of her, but I didn’t. I hated her and I didn’t buy her sad victim act. This had been the best thing to ever happen to her. I had never seen my parents hug, kiss or even have a conversation that didn’t involve choosing the appropriate disciplinary action they would bestow on me for my most recent disappointing report card.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">My mother was taking him for everything he had, soiling his reputation to anyone who would listen and especially in a small town, an eager ear wasn’t hard to find. Even though my father in an effort to save his assets agreed to break things off with his mistress in hopes my mother would take him back and forgive his infidelity, she wouldn’t hear of it and began dating in search of a new wealthier husband.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">After my father had moved out of the house, he stopped by one day as I was about to leave with my friend. I was on the dance team and we had a performance at a local festival. I was grounded from any social activity and my driving privileges had been taken away, so I had to get a ride or risk demerits from the dance coach. My mother had gone to see her therapist and wasn’t home. She had given me permission to go.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">I guess it is hard to walk into a home you had built and paid for but had to give your vindictive ex-wife. So my father already had that emotion going on and to see me there with a friend about to leave while I was grounded made him angrier. I tried to explain the situation, but he ordered my friend to leave the house without me and he didn’t want any excuses.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">I then whispered under my breath one of the worst things apparently I could have said, something my mother had said on a near daily basis when talking about my father, a word that at 16 yrs old, I really didn’t know the meaning, I just knew that it was bad. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">I called him a Bastard. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">I didn’t think it was loud enough for him to hear, but he did hear it and came charging after me. I ran through the breakfast room, through the hallway and up the long staircase. I could hear the stomp of his tasseled loafers on the hardwood floor close behind me. I reached the top of the stairs and ran down the upstairs hallway. I slammed the bathroom door behind me and locked it. I then made my way to the 2<sup>nd</sup> door where the shower and toilet were. I shut and locked that door too. My heart was pounding and I felt a new fear that I had never experienced before. My father came through those two locked doors in no time, slammed me up against the window with the wooden blinds making slits against my back and began in full force rage to open handedly hit me in my face repeatedly, over and over again. I don’t know why, but I screamed; “HIT ME AGAIN! HIT ME AGAIN!” These words made him stop. He looked ashamed and I ran past him to my room, grabbed my dance uniform and keys and ran to my car.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">By the time I arrived at the festival to get in line up with the other girls, the left side of my face had begun to swell and his large handprint was there as evidence of what had happened. When people noticed, I just shrugged it off somehow convincing myself it didn’t happen, it had been my imagination, it wasn’t that bad, I deserved it. After all, maybe my mother was telling the truth all along; I really was the reason they were getting a divorce. I was the reason she was in therapy. I was a bad child and I had to be punished.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">I still loved my father. I kept a photo of him in his suit on my nightstand in a pretty pink and white striped frame for most of my adult life. I still wanted to be his little girl. I went on to seek out men just like him, men who were unfaithful, god like, handsome, confident and made me work for their affection. I saw stars many times after that day, from men who said they loved me and felt just like my parents, I needed to be punished.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt">I just found out I tested positive for the Alzheimer’s gene. My doctor said I’m 500 times more likely to get it than the normal person. So I’m sure my father carries this as well. I’ll give it a few more years and I’ll go visit him. I will tell him how proud he was of me growing up, how much he loved me and that I was his favorite. He will believe me, even if just for a moment.</span></p> <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-size: 9pt">Disclaimer: You the reader are reading this blog at your own risk. At no time has the writer contacted the reader without their permission in reference to this blog site. If you find the content of this blog offensive you have the right to never visit this site again. The people, location and events have been changed to protect the innocent; any similarities to any persons either living or dead are purely coincidental. </span></span> http://open.salon.com/blog/patiencep/2012/05/03/the_first_time_i_saw_starshttp://open.salon.com/blog/patiencep/2012/05/03/the_first_time_i_saw_starsThu, 3 May 2012 13:05:07 -0400After The Kiss.....The Kiss That Ended My Marriage <p style="text-align: center; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt" align="center"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">A continuation of </span></p> <p style="text-align: center; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt" align="center"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">The Kiss That Ended My Marriage</span></p> <p style="text-align: center; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt" align="center"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'"><a href="/blog/patiencep/2012/03/30/the_kiss_that_ended_my_marriage">http://open.salon.com/blog/patiencep/2012/03/30/the_kiss_that_ended_my_marriage</a></span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">I left Dudley’s room and went to my room down the hall. The lava lamp glowed a blue hue onto the wood paneled walls. My room was the only place I was allowed to keep my lava lamp in our conservative home. Everything in our home was decorated in my husband’s taste of white, brown, burgundy or hunter green. He was a life insurance salesman, one of those men that sat in the little cubicle, wiping the coffee creamer off of his well manicured blonde mustache as he was telling someone how to financially prepare for their family if they were to meet an untimely death while vacationing in the Poconos. It was an unemotional, boring job that fit his personality. The walls of our home were never painted anything other than eggshell white to increase resale value. Each home was temporary. <span> </span>This was our 4<sup>th</sup> home in 6 years. We were constantly moving up to Dudley’s dream home; buying, fixing up, selling high and on to the next house with a larger mortgage payment. It frustrated me. </span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">In our 2<sup>nd</sup> home, I had taken over the kitchen painting it red and black with white accents, my favorite kitchen of all time. When it was ready to be sold, the realtor didn’t like my color scheme because it didn’t appeal to the masses and it indeed did turn some buyers away. So I wasn’t allowed to be creative anymore.  </span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">Before I had married Dudley my home was wild with huge pillows, beaded lamps, shades of hot pink on the walls, long satin inviting curtains fell from the ceiling encircling my bed, improv art on the fridge in glitter paint and rhinestones to creations with seaglass vases and nude silhouettes on smoky canvass.</span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">I sat on my rattan papasan chair and covered myself with the furry turquoise blanket behind the closed door to my room. I had lost myself here; in this house, in this marriage. Maybe I would find myself somewhere behind one of his many Thomas Kinkade prints hanging on the wall or in between the pages of the bible with the carefully chosen verses in yellow highlighter. Where had I gone? What had happened to me? I realized I had been hiding behind these things willingly, trying so desperately not to be me; a former stripper, college dropout, an unloved child, a good for nothing that brought shame to my family for my eccentricities and open thoughts. What I had been living for the past 6 years wasn’t real. I hid in this shallow world society created, for fear my true self would be burned like a witch at the stake. I was afraid to be selfish, have desire, laugh at the inappropriate or partake in pleasures of the flesh. </span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">Our sex life suffered. When my vibrator would begin to sound like a lawn mower cranking up, Dudley, in lieu of having sex with me would take it and repair it by putting an assortment of rubber bands around the D batteries to keep them from knocking around inside the plastic shaft. When it finally gave out and couldn’t be repaired, Dudley drove me to a sex shop one night on the way home from dinner at his favorite chain restaurant. He waited outside in the station wagon with the kids in their car seats while I went in to purchase a new one.<span>  </span>As I walked into the sex store I thought; I must be repulsive to him. I was 27 years old, 5.7’ and 125lbs. I took kickboxing classes and work outs were my weekly routine, my bottom was as hard as a rock. I had long light brown hair and skin that I used sugar scrubs and heavenly scented moisturizers to keep it soft and beautiful. I wore push up bras and matching panties in pinks, black and turquoise under my church dresses. <span> </span>But my husband didn’t want me.</span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">I slept naked. I’ve never been able to stand the feeling of being trapped by clothing while in bed. This bothered him. He explained seeing me naked all the time made it not a special event and compared me to his 1<sup>st</sup> wife who had slept in long nightgowns and socks. It was special when he saw a bit of her skin as it happened so rarely. He said I wasn’t normal and my sexuality intimidated him. Because I was so sexual, he felt I wasn’t allowing him to be the man. Women aren’t supposed to want sex. That is the man’s job. When I wanted sex, it made him see me as unattractive. Oh, and I wanted it, my thirst was unquenchable and I was left panting for more each time he would allow it. I wanted to be slung over his shoulder and taken to our bed, or pushed up against the wall and fucked hard with him breathing heavy into my ear pulling up my dress and ripping my panties because he couldn’t wait another second to take me. But this never happened.</span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">Dudley treated me like one might treat an drug addict, giving me just enough physical attention to calm me and get me by, but the hits weren’t strong enough and they had become fewer and fewer during the years as he had tried to wean me off my carnal addiction. My teeth had worn from the grinding and clenching of want and desire; a hug, a touch, a connection to another human being.</span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">I woke up the next morning; Dudley acted normal as if I hadn’t just told him I wanted out of our marriage less than 12 hours ago. He got dressed, ate his breakfast and said the normal; “See ya later” on his way out the door to work, peddling life insurance. I took care of the kids and carted them off to school. I came back to the empty house. I called the showroom where Steve was working. I was nervous and stuttered as I asked the woman that had hired me as a temp to have him return my call. He was scheduled to leave this afternoon to head back to California. </span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">My cell rang. I looked at the number, why had I called him? My stomach was in knots as I let it ring 4 times before I whispered a tiny “hello”.</span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">“Hey Patience, I didn’t think I would hear from you again after the other night. I hope I didn’t overstep my boundaries with you. I’m really sorry.”</span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">“I want to see you Steve. Can we get together today?”</span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">He didn’t hesitate. “Yes! The rest of the guys are heading back and we have to clear out of the rental home, but I will get a hotel room for this evening. I will be out of here at lunch. And just so you know, when your message was delivered, I was pulled aside and was told you were married by some girl that goes to church with you. I told her that you and I were just friends, but I don’t think she believed me.”</span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">As I drove to the hotel, I looked into the back at the car seats that belonged to my children. I counted down the hours until I had to pick them up. I figured 4 hours would be plenty of time to have lunch and talk. I arrived to the address Steve had given me. It was a one story motel, seedy at that. I parked right in front of the door to his room thinking why he hadn’t chosen a nicer place to stay. I knocked on the brown door as I dabbed sweat from above my top lip. Steve greeted me with a smile and let me in. The room smelled damp and dusty and everything was faded orange. Before I could say a word, Steve kissed me. My knees gave and he lain me down on the end of the bed with the worn floral bedspread as he moved his lips to the nape of my neck. Under normal circumstances, I would have been appalled to lie directly on the bedspread of a motel such as this, but when one is starving of hunger, washing hands is not always a priority. </span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">Each time Steve would touch my skin or try to remove a piece of clothing I would move up closer to the head of the bed out of his touch wide eyed and unsure. He had to coo to me like a scared animal that it was okay. I finally let myself go and allowed myself to feel him as my whole body let out a much needed sigh. I closed my eyes, lay there and forgot everyone and everything, my body still remembering the carnal pleasure. And I rested. </span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">I got up, still not many words. I fumbled to put my clothes back on, my body weak from trembling and my brain jumbled in thoughts. Steve leaned against the dresser. I wrapped my arms around him and wanted to say thank you, but instead these words came out;</span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">“I love you.”</span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">Steve said, “Uh oh”.</span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">I left embarrassed, why did I say that? I didn’t really mean I loved him. I loved things about him I suppose, maybe I just needed to say it, maybe because I hadn’t had this sort of physical connection in so many years it felt natural to say those words, maybe I loved him because he had set me free.</span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">My ex husband would ask me one day sitting on the couch as we talked about what he would keep and that I would take nothing from what we had acquired during our marriage out of guilt for leaving him, “Is there someone else?” and my answer was; </span></p> <p style="text-align: justify; margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">“No, it just wasn’t you.”</span></p> <span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-size: 9pt">Disclaimer: You the reader are reading this blog at your own risk. At no time has the writer contacted the reader without their permission in reference to this blog site. If you find the content of this blog offensive you have the right to never visit this site again. The people, location and events have been changed to protect the innocent; any similarities to any persons either living or dead are purely coincidental. </span></span> http://open.salon.com/blog/patiencep/2012/04/18/after_the_kissthe_kiss_that_ended_my_marriagehttp://open.salon.com/blog/patiencep/2012/04/18/after_the_kissthe_kiss_that_ended_my_marriageWed, 18 Apr 2012 16:04:05 -0400A Vagina Sparkly <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">I read the recent post by icyhighs this morning "The Vagina Darkly" and I was insprired to write about a sparkle.  </span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'"><a href="/blog/icyhighs">http://open.salon.com/blog/icyhighs</a></span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">I’m in the vagina business. I'm an Esthetician. I do Brazilian waxes, so I've seen a few. The biggest concern and question women have is, “Does mine look, you know….uh normal?” as I apply the hot wax to their most intimate areas. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">What is normal? For a woman who has only seen the one they own and nothing else (we don't whip it out around our girlfriends like you guys do) she turns to pornography where women may have had vaginal rejuvenation to look like they are prepubescent, waxed or shaven clean (which keeps me in biz so I'm not complaining) and/or have had their anus bleached....also a service provided by Estheticians, just not this Esthetician. And now I hear of the Labial Lightening, another service/product telling us to be ashamed of our vagina.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">We worry; us silly women that our man will judge our delicate flower, compare it to another lover or even be repulsed at the mere sight of it. So we go to great lengths to make it beautiful by dyeing the landing strip bright pink, getting it vajazzled with colorful rhinestones and anointing it with essence of lavender and neroli oils. <span> </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">If you aren’t familiar with Vajazzling, where have you been? It is an after wax service where an Esthetician will apply colored rhinestones in the shape of hearts, flowers, lighten bolts to the bare or nearly bare pubic area. I like the Vajazzling thing. I mean who couldn’t use sparkles on their va-jayjay? I love sparkles and I love to sparkle. These however may cause issues in the bedroom by becoming stuck to “other things” or being ingested, as I found out.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">After my husband, frustrated and coughing up another purple rhinestone sighed heavily and said, “Look Honey, you don’t have to do all this fancy stuff. I’m just happy you will show it to me.” </span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">Awwww, love him….*dreamy eyed*</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'"><span> </span>I sat all curled up in the comforter as I watched him get up from the bed and bend over to pick up his boxers. The morning sun shone in from the slightly open crease in the curtains and there was a little shimmer, a slight sparkle as if it were saying, “TaaaDaaaaa!” <span> </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'">I thought to myself ……I had never imagined putting a rhinestone there. <span> </span>Maybe this will be the next new big trend. Let me get my camera.</span></p> http://open.salon.com/blog/patiencep/2012/04/17/a_vagina_sparklyhttp://open.salon.com/blog/patiencep/2012/04/17/a_vagina_sparklyTue, 17 Apr 2012 11:04:20 -0400