hey look! that sword has TWO sides!

so. i’ve been spending a LARGE quantity of time lately thinking about what’s wrong with me. and what’s right with me. and…i don’t know. there’s a LOT on both sides. i guess the trick is…fuck. i don’t know what the trick is. i’ve been single basically my whole life (i REALLY don’t think those two years that were a mess of my marriage should count!). my oldest son’s dad and i “dated” (it was high school ya’ll) for a total of 4 months: three of which i was knocked up. responsible, i know. then i was single until said marriage
which went like this: met in november, married in march, pregnant in june, moved out in september, moved back in october, baby in march, moved out in december. since then i’ve been single. there have been a few distractions. there have been a few dates. but there hasn’t been anyone specific that has wanted to “claim me” for any length of time. whatevs. i’m fine on my own, i’ve never been the type to need someone, but occasionally it would be nice to have someone around, you know?

honest truth? there’s this damn pickle jar in my fridge that i haven’t been able to get into for MONTHS. getting a fella around the house seems like a much easier option than shattering the jar on the counter.

maybe.

anywho. like i said. i’ve been thinking about what’s wrong with me AND what’s right with me. so. here’s what i’ve come up with:

WRONG:

i’m chubby: guys do tend to like the little itty bitty size two waifs. they look cute on your arm at the club. they keep your grocery bill nice and low. they’re easy to get into kama sutra position #493. they’re generally too weak from starvation to fight often. not so much with chubby girls. ~sigh~

i can’t have any more kids: guys like the idea that they can reproduce their own spawn on this earth, someone to carry on the manly maleness that is them. they want a little mini-me running around someone to pass on their generations of ruggedness to. i can’t do it. my factory has been closed, decommissioned, and is sitting around taking up useful real estate. (dude, if i could have all that removed, think of the instant weight loss…would help with wrong #1)

i’m smart: guys don’t like a girl who can challenge their intellectual supremacy. or who even knows how to spell intellectual supremacy. i not only CAN, i WILL challenge things. i WILL have my own thoughts and express them. i’m not very good at just sitting around looking pretty (besides, there’s a rule that chubby = not pretty if you didn’t know). i’m loud, i’m obnoxious, i speak my mind, i call it like i see it, i will make you look like a douchebag asshole if you’re acting like a douchebag asshole. it’s just the way it is.

RIGHT:  

i’m chubby: who wants to cuddle up to skeletor when they’re sick? and who wants to go do dinner with someone who orders a leaf of lettuce and a glass of water and pretends to be too full to eat that? never trust a skinny chef: and i am NOT a skinny chef. i’m not afraid to eat a cheeseburger when i’m grumpy. it really does make you less bitchy. what guy really enjoys grinding hips while they’re doin the wild thing? there’s truth to the cushion for the pushin’ theory. i’m still flexible. i’m still able to get into the other #492 kama sutra positions. and i AM working on being LESS chubby, but no matter how far down i get, i will always be bigger than 90% of the girls out there. it’s in my genes. and i love myself. so. you know.

i can’t have any more kids: i have two AMAZING kids already. i’ve been walked away from twice already. i’m not looking for a hat trick. i won’t accidentally “oops” on a guy. i’m not a jerry springer show waiting to happen. there won’t be a phone call from maury povich inviting anyone to a mysterious show. i don’t have to worry about counting days or peeing on sticks. when i’m 42 BOTH of my kids will be out of the house and i’ll be ready to do all sorts of amazing things. my spawns are already house broken. i can sleep full nights and late on weekends. i don’t have to worry about diapers or bottles or strollers. i’m already half way done (with one anyway).

i’m smart: i have a good job. i have a college degree. i can count to 20 WITH MY SHOES ON. i know how to make a joke, read a newspaper, follow a conversation that has more than 2 words that are over 2 syllables in a row. i am willing to speak my mind and contribute to the conversation around me. i can support myself. i know how to fix things around the house, take care of basics, and not pass out from forgetting to breathe.

in all seriousness though (yes, all the above was tongue in cheek…shocker). i do know what my fatal flaw is, and i’m slowly coming to terms with it. it’s something i’ve wondered for a while. it was given a voice a while ago. i’ve since challenged that voice and it’s been proven true. by several. so. my fatal flaw: i have kids. it’s a simple math equation really. one kid halves your chances of dating. two kids halves those chances. one kid with high needs halves those chances. and two kids with high needs halves those chances one more time. throw in that the two high needs are on OPPOSITE ends of the needs spectrum: half those chances again. throw in that there’s not one, but two baby daddy’s andyou half those chances one last time. so…i’m working on a half to the sixth power here. in layman’s terms of slim to none: slim has been shot, dragged by wild horses, mauled by rabid dogs, run over by a run-away carriage, strung up from the courthouse, and then buried out back under the future site of the new and improved town outhouse.

so, what i’m saying is: THERE’S STILL A CHANCE.