#but she didn’t quite hit the mark on healthy relationship with food when everyone in the house was technically on weight watchers

[thomotomo]

Kia ora! Could i request a peaky blinders x male reader, where y/n is in a secret relationship with his brother tommy shelby? fluff and hiding from period typical homophobic laws

A/N: Hello dear anon! I hope you will like it! I’m not watching Peaky Blinders so I tried to keep in the universe and in character but I’m pretty sure I messed up a few things lol. Hopefully you will enjoy it nonetheless! Thanks for requesting :3

TW/CW: Incest, Slurs/derogatory terms about gay men, misoginy (ig, well they don’t talk well about women), Mention of period typical homophobia - Read at your own risks

Words: 2.4K

The atmosphere in the room was tense. Some members of the gang had been attacked and it seemed that other rival gangs in Birmingham were pushing their luck, titillating your family into making mistakes.

You weren’t really concentrated on the discussion, rather you observed your brother (and secret lover) who was seated opposite to where you were standing, a whisky in his hand, discussing the serious matter with a frown on his face with your brother, Arthur and your Aunt Polly.

You tried following the flow of the conversation but the soft light reflecting on Tommy’s face was making him way too attractive and his shining eyes were marvellous, you wanted to kiss away the frown on his face, hold him in your arms and proclaim to the world that you loved him.

Sadly, you weren’t able to do so for a numerous of reason, firstly he was your brother, and although wedding between cousins were accepted, people were taking less kindly two children from the same mother to be in love. And secondly well, people of your kind weren’t well liked (not to say absolutely despised), two men lying together was seen as an abomination and you had witnessed a few times boys being beaten for being accused of being a “fag”.

Truth to be told, you hated being unable to be with him, go outside together, not giving a care about anything or anybody but sadly you knew you couldn’t do that. You wanted to stay alive and not cause the downfall of your family’s gang and basically not disgracing them socially, so here you were, trying to listen to the conversation.

“What are your thoughts (Y/N)?”, it was Arthur who spoke up. You tried to stay collected on the outside and completely panicking inside.

“Oh erm. I think we should maybe execute one person, one example to assert our dominance and show them this as a warning and we won’t stay here doing nothing?”, they nodded as you sighed, feeling less stressed now that you answered to them.

You lit up a cigarette and smoked slowly as they discussed about who they will take down, their level in the other gang. And after debating for another ten minutes they settled on kidnapping, Ralph McAllister, a middle-ranked member from the Birmingham Boys you had seen few times in town.

All of you stayed a bit more, discussing other issues until Polly had to leave, kissing all of you on the cheek. Arthur did the same, but leaving with a clasp on the shoulder, not without proposing both of you to meet him tonight at the Garrison Pub, which you agreed to do, he left both of you alone.

You waited until you were sure they were far enough and that nobody would be able to see you, you walked to Tommy, putting your cigarette on the ashtray and took his face in your hands, kissing him softly. He sighed in the kiss and put his free hand on your hip, gently caressing it with his thumb.

“Everything is such a mess. Fucking assholes they think they can try and steal our territory.”, his hand gripped your hip a bit tightly. You caressed his cheeks with your thumbs, looking at him seriously.

“They fucking sucks but we’re going to crush them. Don’t think about them now and relax.”, you felt his grip loosen as he downed the rest of the whiskey and put the glass on the table next to him. He tapped your hip with his fingers, making you move from above him, allowing him to stand up. He gazed at you lovingly and took your hand in his.

“Maybe we should move to the bedroom? There will be no risks of being the caught.”

You nodded and followed him in his bedroom, locking the door behind you as Tommy closed the curtains, just in case. Tommy then went to his seat and you joined him, sitting on his lap, his hand directly went to your check. You leaned in it, smiling at him. You enjoyed those quiet moments with him where you could do anything without any care in the world.

He peppered your cheeks with kisses, attempting to kiss all of your freckles, making you laugh lowly. Tommy then looked at you with a gentle smile and finally kissed you on the lips; you deepened it, adding a bit of tongue to the kiss. Tommy’s free hand went around your waist, smiling in the kiss and after a few more seconds of kissing he moved his mouth to your jaw, then your neck, letting you breath as he lightly bit your neck, avoiding leaving any marks.

He stopped after a while, breathing a bit strongly, putting his head on your shoulder, both of his arms now wrapping your waist. You stroked his hair, smiling softly and shuddering as his hot breath hit your neck.

“We’ll have to meet with Arthur later…”, you regretfully said.

“Yeah… But don’t think about that love. Now we’re having a moment together.”

You smiled at him and yelped when he stood up and suddenly put his hands under your thighs. He chuckled at the sound as by reflex you wrapped your legs around his waist. He walked you to his bed and put you on it, coming to lie next to you. He brought you in his arms, cuddling you and kissing your forehead. Both of you chilled there for a while in silence, bathing in each other’s love.

After a while lying on the comfortable, cuddling and sometimes talking, you decided that even though you really wanted to stay with him you had to be “productive” and go and take care of the horses to avoid raising suspicions.

You regretfully left Tommy’s arms, kissing him gently as he stood up too, to go and plan the disappearance of McAllister. You unlocked the door and kissed him once last time before making your way to your room, changing your clothes and then went to the stables. You started by putting the horses in the field made for them and cleaned all the stalls. It was an unusual job for the son of a wealthy family but considering your family was a gang  it didn’t really matter, at least you were someone to be trusted with the horses.

You really enjoyed taking care of the horses, even though sometimes it was it was very demanding job and the horses weren’t always in the best of the moods but it was an entertaining job, and you really loved the feeling of seeing the horses happy, clean and healthy and you were sweaty and not looking at all like a man of your rank.

Once all the cleaning and filling the food tanks of the horses you brought them one by one back in their stable. You stayed a bit longer with Ludy, a Shire horse that you considered yours instead of the family’s, patting him and giving him a little treat before leaving to take a shower as it was almost time for you to go and meet Arthur.

You put some clean clothes and waited for Tommy to come down, you were almost wondering if he had forgotten about it, knowing how he could be whenever he started to work, but before you could even try to walk back upstairs he arrived and shoot you a wink with a smile.

“You look great brother.”

“Same about you Tommy. You’re going to pick up some lass at the bar?”

“Maybe, we’ll see..”, he licked his lips as he checked you out. You saw the maid behind him, having some sheets in her arms.

You walked outside the mansion and met with the driver. Both of you went in the back and discussed about random things until you arrived at the bar. You stepped out and told the driver he wouldn’t have to go and come search you.

You readjusted your coat and walked inside The Garrison with Tommy right behind you, it was filled with quite the people. The pair of you looked around until you found Arthur in a corner drinking some whisky while flirting with the waitress.

You went and joined him as the waitress left and sat next to him with a smile.

“So, in what honour are we drinking tonight?”

“To the future death of that Birmingham motherfucker and to the calm that will be back right after.”

You all laughed at that and nodded in agreement, the asshole will soon be 6 feet under and all the gangs will either prepare or run away like the rats they were. Tommy ordered a round of drinks and you talked together, sometimes looking at the girls in the pub. Suddenly Arthur whistled.

“Tommy, the blonde lass over there had been watching you for a good while, y’should talk to her, bet she’d like your dick. You should go to talk to her.”

“Wait”, you intervened, “You should wait a bit more, like making her desire you even more so she like jump on you when you come at her. She seems kind of an easy one.”

“(Y/N) is right, she seems kind of an easy one. Give it 5 minutes Tommy boy and then you can get that bitch.”, all of you laughed at that, but in the back of your mind you didn’t want her to touch him. You desperately wished you could claim him in front of everyone, but life wasn’t fair sadly and unless you wanted to die well you could only do so much.

When the five minutes passed Tommy went to the blonde with a predatory grin, saying to both of you. “Take note gentlemen, this is how you woo ladies.”

Both of you laughed and you moved a bit, taking a drink from your glass, observing how he walked to the girl and nearly immediately kissed her neck, probably whispering some sentences to get her. You felt the atmosphere less joyous as you older brother was also observing the scene. There was never bad blood between the two of you but it was clearly not the same kind of love between you and Arthur than you and Tommy (damn right, Arthur was so constipated with his feelings you could easily think he hated you).

“You’re not a fag right?”, you tensed as he asked that. He wasn’t looking at you, but surely from the corner of his eyes he was observing your reaction. You tried not to look uncomfortable and laughed as if he told you a joke.

“Me a fairy? Really? Nah those past weeks Ludy doesn’t looks pretty well so I’m trying to see if anything is wrong with him. And with the mating seasons nearing all the horses are on the edge so I’d like to avoid some of them to get knocked up you know.”, you didn’t like using Ludy for an escape but you didn’t saw any other choices there. Arthur hummed and took a sip of his drink.

“Because I wouldn’t want people to find out my brother’s a sissy. I wouldn’t like to know you’re a sissy. Because if you are…”, he looked at you with a weird glint in his eyes and you were pretty sure that if he knew you were an homosexual there wouldn’t be any blood bond between you anymore and he would murder you. You repressed a shudder and smirked.

“Nah don’t worry about that. I’m just occupied and worried about the horse’s health. But don’t worry next time we go out I’ll pick a cute lass, probably a redhead y’know?”, he laughed and downed the rest of his drink in one go.

“Yeah you always got the weirdest tastes brother.”

You looked back at Tommy who was still flirting with the girl and in a blink of an eye she disappeared, you knew where she went and your brother who probably followed her confirmed your suspicions. After all he always was better at hiding his feelings and acting too and you envied him for that. The thought of sex with any woman was repulsing you and even though you were able to go though it all with prostitutes or random women in bars, you wanted to throw up after every time.

“Oooh little Tommy is getting his fair share of fun with the little blondie. I wonder if she’s a screamer or not.”

“I’m betting she’s more like a squeaky mouse.”

“We’ll see when pretty boy is back!”

The two of you stayed here, discussing and you occasionally threw a lustful gaze to the women in the pub trying to make Arthur think you were watching them while he was flirting with some waitress, sometimes giving them a clap on their ass. You had the time to take another drink until Tommy came back, putting his pants back in place.

Arthur laughed and clapped, attracting a bit of attention that was quickly diverted when you threw them dark looks. Tommy sat back with a smirk and Arthur clapped his shoulder.

“C’mon Tom, how was she? Loud or not?”

“She wasn’t making much noises, but she was tight as fuck.”

“I was right then!”, you hit your older brother on the shoulder with a laugh.

“Tsk for once boy, for once.”

You kept bantering until Arthur decided it was time for him to go back home. You followed him outside and kept discussing for a short moment, observing the surroundings with a distrustful look on your face, after all night was always the best moment to murder people and you wanted to avoid that. You watched as Arthur left and then both you and Thomas started to walk in the opposite direction.

The streets weren’t quiet, from the drunk lads trying to walk to the fights, it was clear it was animated almost as much as during broad daylight. As you turned in a dark and seemingly completely empty street. You pulled Thomas with you and put him against the wall, immediately covering his lips with yours.

He was shocked for an instant and then relaxed in your grasp, kissing you back. After a few seconds of kiss, you stopped pressing him on the wall and licked your lips while looking at him with a spark in your eyes.

“You fucking- You could have waited for us to be more away!”, Tommy whispered with a disbelieved smile on his face.

“I couldn’t wait to kiss this bitch away from you. But don’t worry I’ll finish that somewhere else.”, this time you were the one leaving him hanging as you walked away, hearing his quick steps to join you.

Hopefully for you the maid wouldn’t be home by the time you’d be back or you’d have to keep him extra quiet.

_______________

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the story! Don’t forget to like, reblog and comment if you did and you can leave me a tip on KOFI if you want! Take care <3

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Seventy-Seven: Plastic Wrap ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Yūhi Kurenai ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

Another day...another shift at work.

In all actuality, Hinata doesn’t hate her job...it’s just...well, not what she expected to be doing. She had such grandiose plans of going to college, getting a degree in education, and teaching a class of little kiddos before settling down and having a few of her own with...someone. Back in high school her dreamboat was, well...sunk. So that part of her plan was a work in progress.

But then her entrance exams for her school of choice went...horribly wrong. Struck by severe anxiety, Hinata completely bombed them. Ashamed, she didn’t even bother retaking them, and instead opted to ‘take a year off’ and see where life took her.

To her honest surprise, her father let her live at home during said year to find herself. And Hinata busted her butt at the local grocery store working to save up enough for what she knew would be her eventual getting kicked out and moving someplace on her own. And just as she predicted, Hiashi got fed up with her ‘lack of direction’ after that first year, and...she was left to wing it.

By some grace, she actually managed to get a decent roommate. Her cousin’s girlfriend was looking to move off-campus while getting a degree in sports medicine, and agreed to halve the costs with Hinata to make things easier on them both. Then Neji decided to move in, and...it’s actually worked really well!

...despite...constantly feeling like a third wheel to their relationship. But Neji assures her time and time again that they enjoy her company, and want to help ensure she doesn’t have to go it alone.

...of course, that’s going to be a little questionable once they both graduate and need to move.

For now, however...Hinata’s just taking life one day at a time. Back in the deli section of the grocery store, she’s part of the team that makes...well, all the deli food. Her own speciality is the sandwiches, and she’s gotten really good at it! She can whip up just about anything in a flash, packaging it neatly in plastic wrap and filling up the displays, or even making them to order as people browse the cases. She’s gotten oddly proud of herself, being marked as a model employee.

Sometimes some of the older staff ask her about her plans, given her young age, and she just...shrugs.

“I like it here,” she tells them. “It’s not...g-glamorous, but I enjoy it. And...I’m not sure the whole ‘college’ thing is really, um...my speed.”

And after a little while, she got more than used to the locals pestering her about it, too. It helped that her old theater club instructor Kurenai (with a new family of her own) was supportive. Add in Neji and Tenten’s help, and she got over the stigma of choosing work over schooling within just a few months. Sure, every once in a while she’ll get a little...melancholy about it. Mostly whenever on social media, seeing all the posts from her friends her age doing more ‘typical’ things. Attending classes or sports games, getting significant others, and just...other milestones Hinata herself has yet to reach.

“Life isn’t a race,” Kurenai had told her once, stopping in to have lunch with her old student one day. “If anything, it’s just the opposite. It isn’t about rushing from point a, to b, all the way to z. Take time to wander, meander...you’ll find those milestones at your own pace, if you even want to. Your life is your journey. So long as you’re happy and healthy...who’s to say you’re doing your own thing wrong, hm?”

That conversation had left a spring in Hinata’s step for a good long while, and as time passed, she found a sort of...peace in her work. Not to say she’d totally given up on things changing or improving over time. But until she figured out what that would be, well...she was just fine doing things her way.

“Hinata! We need more turkey and swiss, please!”

“On it!” Collecting the proper ingredients to her work station, Hinata gets to crafting, lost in the rhythm and pattern of her work. It’s the lunch hour, so anyone making their way through the store tends to gravitate toward things ready-made, able to just pick it up and take it home to eat. The display cases are kept full, and the smells of fresh food fill the air.

Once her set is done, Hinata loads them into the cases, arranging them just so to try and make them any degree more appealing to those walking by.

“...Hinata?”

Stacking the last sandwich, Hinata straightens and looks to the inquisitive tone, blinking. And then it hits her. “...oh! Sasuke…?”

Standing on the other side of the case is indeed Sasuke Uchiha, an old classmate. Hands buried in his jacket pockets, he looks just as surprised to see her here. “Uh...yeah. I...didn’t know you were working here.”

Giving a quick, sheepish smile (and preparing for the inevitable questions), Hinata replies, “Yeah, um...I-I’ve been here over two years now!”

“...huh. Surprised I didn’t notice you earlier, then. Guess I’m just never in the right place at the right time.”

There’s a pause, and...he doesn’t press anything else. Just sort of...stands there.

A bit lurching in the quiet, Hinata eventually offers, “So, um...did you...want something?”

“Yeah, uh…” He glances over the selections. “...you don’t happen to do, like...BLTs, do you?”

That earns another blink. “Not for the regulars, but I can make you one, sure! We do custom ones, too. So it’s no trouble! Anything else you want on it…?”

“Just some mayo, I guess. With rye bread, if that’s okay.”

“Sure! Do you want it...toasted, or anything?”

“You can do that?”

“Yeah!”

“...okay, yeah - sure. Thanks.”

Humming to herself, Hinata goes about her routine, quickly arranging everything on the requested rye bread. For a moment, she even forgets who she’s making it for, absorbed in the process until the finished sandwich is finished. Quick hands get it wrapped in a jiffy, and she hands it over. “There you go.”

“...thanks. You work here every day?”

“Every day but Sunday and Monday, yeah!”

“Huh...cool. I thought about getting a Summer job this year, but nothing ever panned out.”

Hinata’s head tilts. “...well, next time let me know, and I’ll see if maybe we have any openings here! If...if you want, that is. It’s a pretty nice place to work, in m-my opinion. Everyone’s fairly friendly! There’s...well, there’s some sour grapes, but they’re easy enough to avoid.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll keep that in mind. School’s been kicking my butt, but it’d be nice to get a little spending money in the off months.”

“You’re, um...you’re going to the local uni here…?”

Sasuke nods, still holding his sandwich. “Yeah...haven’t picked a major yet, and it’s driving my dad nuts. I just dunno what I want to do yet...started out in some business courses, but it just didn’t feel right.”

“Oh...yeah, that can be t-tough. I know a lot of our classmates ended up changing their minds after this past year. Sakura gave up on dance and is going into nursing! So...you never really know what will end up c-clicking, sometimes.”

Surprise lifts his brows a bit. “Huh...didn’t hear that. I don’t really...talk to a lot of our old classmates.”

“Honestly, I don’t either...I mostly just sort of lurk,” Hinata admits, looking a little sheepish. “It’s...a bit hard to keep up with social media sometimes...you know?”

“Yeah...all you ever see is what people want you to see. It’s why I gave most of it up. It’s not as genuine as you think. That and I got tired of all the gag-me relationship drama everywhere, and pictures...it’s like people are only on there to brag, or complain. Not my scene.”

That actually gets her to perk up a bit. “E-exactly! It’s just...n-not any fun. At least...not really.”

The subject idles for a moment before Sasuke asks, “So...you like working here?”

“I do. I don’t know if it’s, um...a career, but…” Her shoulders hunch ever so slightly. “...it’s just...where I am for now.”

“Hey, whatever works, you know? No judgement here.”

“...thanks. Not everyone is so, um...understanding.”

“Yeah, all that status quo crap. The world needs deli workers just like it needs doctors and lawyers and engineers. Don’t sweat it, Hinata.”

A bit surprised, Hinata can’t help but go a bit pink, feeling rather...reassured. “...yeah, I...I guess you’re right.”

A short alarm then rings, and Sasuke pulls out his phone. “Ah, crap...I gotta go. But hey, thanks for the sandwich. I’ll have to make a habit of it.”

“O...okay! Any time!” Brightening, Hinata waves as he takes his leave, feeling oddly...giddy. It’s been quite some time since she’s talked to an old classmate, and...even longer since it went so well. Mood bolstered, she just calls out a ‘Got it!’ when her next batch is ordered.

...she’s already looking forward to seeing him again.

                                                           .oOo.

     So this is...super random cuz I was LOST with this prompt xD It's just so...random, and yet specific, so...hopefully this is still fun to read? lol      Just a little modern stuff with a...well, I guess she's not a drop-out, but...a college-less Hinata, and directionless Sasuke. He gets it. Or at least I think he would. I dunno, I'm very tired and this prompt was weird so who knows if any of this made sense, but...I tried xD      On that note though, I reallllly need some sleep, so I'll sign off - thanks for reading~

[capandbuckysgirl]

You’ve Left A Mark That Won’t Erase - 10

You’ve Left A Mark That Won’t Erase - Chris Evans x Reader

Oh lordy, so I’ve officially moved into my new home and we don’t have internet right now… BOO! But, I can still come over to my in-law’s house and use theirs for now!

Are we ready for this? I’ve never worked on sets nor have I walked a carpet so go easy on me… This is a work of fiction, after all!

Warnings: Angsty AF! Foul language… (But we’ll get past it people, believe in me! I’m ALL about the HEA!!!!) Chris being sweet (not that that’s a warning, but come on, just look at him!!!!)

GIFS used are not mine!

I woke up with a start, my stomach doing somersaults as I jumped up from the bed. I made it to the bathroom just in time to vomit up everything I’d been able to consume the night before.

“Oh, baby, shhh,” Chris said softly as he ran his fingers through my hair. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

I couldn’t help it, I started to cry as I wrapped my arms around the toilet. This had been going on for a solid month now, the morning sickness was almost too much to bear, but it would all be worth it. The doctor in Atlanta (the best that money could pay for - Chris’s words) had confirmed what I’d already known to be true; I was pregnant. But not just pregnant, two months pregnant (now three). Apparently what I’d though had been a period the month before was implantation bleeding, whatever the fuck that meant.

Our little bean was safe and sound, nestled up in my insides and doing all the things a little baby does while safe inside of mommy’s tummy. We were absolutely over the moon and showed the ultrasound pictures to everyone on set who would stop and look at them.

The strange and scary thing was - somehow, Chris and I had managed to so far keep it under wraps from the press, but that would all change tonight.

We were due to walk the red carpet together (for the first time) for a small promotional tour for Infinity War and then Chris was due to appear at a convention. Chris was ready to share our relationship with the world, and possibly even reveal that we were expecting our first child together.

I, on the other hand, just wanted to keep him and the baby to myself, just for a little longer. We’d told everyone who needed to know, we’d spoken to Chris’s family, his mother ecstatic that she was going to be a grandma again, and also had broken the news of our engagement. They’d all seemed happy for us, and I was excited to share my life with not only Chris, but his family as well.

That was all good, perfect and beautiful in fact, but the fans and press - that was a whole other monster and I didn’t relish in the fact that tonight could be the undoing of our happy little bubble that we’d created.

Sure, I was in this for the long haul, but that didn’t mean that I wasn’t aware of the kind of hate that I may get with this news. Chris Evans, the world’s seemingly real life Captain America knocked up his makeup artist girlfriend and now was getting married.

Yeah, there would be no hate… who the fuck were we kidding?

“Are you okay, baby? Can I get you anything?”

I raised my head slightly, my eyes meeting the startling blue of Chris’s and shook my head.

“I’ll be fine. This is just one of the joys of pregnancy. I won’t say I enjoy throwing up, but if we get a healthy baby out of it, then I’m fine.”

He smiled at me, that bright toothy smile of his that lights up a room. I’d never tire of seeing that directed at me.

“You know, I think we need to get some food and then we have to get ready to go. We have a ton to do today, if you’re still okay with doing our makeup?”

“Of course I am, let me brush my teeth and I’ll be right out.”

I watched him leave the bathroom and I stood at the sink. I looked absolutely fucking haggard. I had bags under my eyes from lack of sleep, my hair looked drab and I felt like a fucking balloon. My eyes scanned down to look at my tiny baby bloat, it wasn’t even a bump really yet. Cradling it I smiled again to myself and then began the task of brushing my teeth while trying not to throw up again.

We sat through a staff breakfast, Scarlett sitting next to me and grasping my hand in hers. She knew how scared I was. Everyone who knew me on the set knew I was nervous about the press finally getting their claws into our news.

Such is life when you’re in love with a star though, right?

After breakfast (I’d managed to eat a bit and feel relatively good) we made our way to another meeting, just talks about what to expect. We were all under contract to give away almost nothing about the movie - it was all going to be a surprise for the audiences when it finally opened. We were to answer questions as best as we could, but give nothing away that wasn’t shown in the trailers.

“Okay, everyone have fun!”

Being officially dismissed, Chris and I made our way to wardrobe and got ready. After being zipped up into my dress and having my hair done I sat at my mirror and applied my makeup with an expert hand. Chris came in and sat down, tucking a protective neck guard around his suit as I began his light makeup. He knew the drill by now.

Once done, we were ushered into cars, my heart thundering in my chest as I held tightly to Chris’s hand. This was it, no turning back. Whatever Chris wanted to reveal to the public would now be out there for all…

“Breathe, I’ve got you, Y/N.”

All I could do was nod, my fingers squeezing his slightly as we pulled to a stop.

“Mr Evans, Ms Y/L/N - welcome.”

We were quickly moved to the carpet where cameras began flashing from every angle. Chris’s hand tightened on mine, his smile firmly in place as he began to wave at the fans that were there.

“Y/N, relax. Smile and wave, breathe.” Chris said softly as he leaned in closer. “Focus on me if you have to.”

I smiled then, genuinely as we neared the first reporters station on the carpet. I could do this, I had to.

“And we’re now here with Chris Evans. Hello, Chris, we’ve seen you walk these carpets with your sisters and mother - who is this lovely lady you have here with you?”

“Hello to you! This is my fiance, Y/N.”

“F-fiance, well congratulations! We hadn’t even heard you were dating anyone. We’d seen you around set with Y/N in pictures, but nothing about her being your girlfriend.”

“Well, we were keeping it to ourselves as long as we could, just enjoying time together. We met back in L.A. about 7 months ago now. We just really hit it off. I can’t remember what my life was like before her.”

“That’s so sweet. And Y/N, how are you adjusting to life with a celebrity like Chris?”

“Umm, it isn’t quite what I expected. To me he’s just Chris, but I do get to see him every day since I work on the set with him. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know the rest of the cast and crew as well. But life with Chris is amazing.”

“So wedding bells in the future. Have you started planning yet?”

I shook my head as Chris laughed.

“We’ve been so busy we haven’t really had time to even discuss a date.”

Chris’s handler gave us the signal to wrap it up so we could keep moving.

“It was good to see you, thank you for having us.”

“Thank you, Chris. Nice to meet you, Y/N. It looks like we’ve got Anthony Mackie coming up next.”

I exhaled, my pulse slowing as I lifted my skirt a bit to move along the carpet. Chris decided to stop and sign some autographs before we made it to the next interview spot. I stood back and smiled, watching him as the fans fawned over him.

“Y/N, come take some pictures.”

“Chris, they don’t want me in their pictures. I’m just your makeup artist.”

“You’re not just my makeup artist, you’re my fiance, now get your booty over here.”

I walked over to the crowd of fans, watching as they all looked me up and down. One girl in the front reached her hand out toward me and I smiled and took it in mine, shaking it in greeting.

“Hello, nice to meet you.”

“Oh my gosh, you’re marrying Captain America. What’s that like? You’re so lucky.”

“He’s just Chris to me, but I will admit that I love him as Captain America. And I feel lucky to be marrying him.”

“And he’s marrying someone that’s not even famous, His makeup artist…”

I didn’t see who said that, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t as scathing a comment as it could have been, but I wasn’t famous, that was true.

“Yes, I am his makeup artist. I love my work, but I love Chris more. We met before I became his makeup artist, though.”

“Yeah, you met in a bar, right?”

“Y-yeah, that’s right.”

“A bar hook-up? Classy. I give it a few more months, tops.”

Chris stepped back over, his eyes finding mine as he reached out his hand. I grasped it tightly, a life-line as I was able to inhale once more.

I hadn’t thought that people may have known about us in L.A. Fans were everywhere, and I hadn’t known it may be circulating around the internet or something. What else did they know?

“Don’t let them get to you,” Chris whispered. “Who cares how we met? You’re the one wearing my ring and carrying my baby.”

He was right, what they thought didn’t actually matter in the long run, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. And I was sure it not only hurt me, but it hurt Chris as well. He was just better at hiding it than I was.

We stopped at the next interview area, my smile back in place as Chris exchanged pleasantries. I stood back a bit as he chatted, finding myself in awe of the man I was in love with, the man I was going to marry. The father of my child.

“I’d like you all to meet my fiance, Y/N. She’s awesome, I just can’t imagine my life without her.”

Once again the reporters were taken aback, apparently we were giving them a hell of a news day. Chris hadn’t mentioned the baby yet, but the part about him getting married was getting enough of a buzz around the carpet, both good and bad.

“Congratulations you two. Have you set a date?”

“Not yet, we’re waiting for a bit for our schedules to settle down.” Chris looked at me, his eyes finding mine for a brief moment before he turned back to the reporter. This was it, oh God, he was going to say it! “But our schedules may be becoming permanently busy…”

Shit…

“We’re expecting our first child together, she’s due this winter.”

And queue the nausea!

“Wow, this is amazing news. Congratulations again, we’ll have to talk more about this inside. Was this planned?”

“No, it was a pleasant surprise. We’ve been together for seven months, but it seems like I’ve known her all my life. I am excited for what the future is going to bring.”

“That’s great, and how did you two meet?”

“We met in a bar in downtown L.A. I was checking her out most of the night before I worked up the courage to go over to her and actually talk to her. We’ve been together since.”

I still hadn’t said anything, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Nothing bad had happened, not really, and the world hadn’t stopped spinning. Maybe we were going to be okay. Had I really just worked all of this up in my mind?

“Well that’s good, I’m sure everyone will agree with me when I say it’s about time you found yourself a good lady to settle down with. Not that everyone will be happy about it, I mean, you’re still known to many as a heartthrob, some people may be crying themselves to sleep tonight.”

“Oh, please, I’m not worth all of that.”

“Yes, you are. Yes he is.” I interjected, finally finding my voice. “He’s amazing, who would have thought that a girl from y/h/t would nab this sexy man right here? Just goes to show, you just never know what life is going to bring your way.”

“Well said, Y/N.” The reporter smiled at me.

“I mean, I was stood up by my friends at that bar. If I had left when they didn’t show up, look at what I would have missed out on. I get to marry the man of my dreams and have a family with him. All because I was in the right place at the right time.”

Chris smiled brightly and pulled me in toward him, his lips meeting mine briefly. I wasn’t scared anymore, let the whole fucking world hear and see. Chris pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine.

“I love you,” he said softly, his hand coming down to cradle the tiny bump that was our baby. “Both of you.”

“And I love you most, Y/N!” Robert hollered as he came up behind Chris, his arms wrapping around my stomach. I couldn’t help but laugh, leave it to Downey to find the perfect moment to butt in. I turned in his arms and kissed his cheek.

“You know I love you, too.”

“Come on, Downey, no love for me?” Chris pouted causing the people around us to laugh out loud.

“She’s hotter than you, Evans.”

“Shhh, I can’t hear you.” Chris said as he covered Robert’s mouth with his hand. “Of course she’s hotter.”

We walked the rest of the carpet, my heart full as Chris introduced me to more reporters, more press, more fans. It didn’t matter what they thought of me, it only mattered what I thought of myself and what Chris thought of me.

We could face anything, as long as we did it together. As we made our way inside, I made my way around to the rest of the cast, exchanging hugs and letting Scarlett know that I was fine. She’d of course heard about the run in with the rude fan, but also that we’d let everyone know about the engagement and baby.

This was now my life, and I still wasn’t sure how I’d ended up here. But as I watched the cast do their panel together, I was absolutely positive that it was where I wanted to be.

[decandantfics]

When You Need Me - Part 1

                                  What if They’re Right?

Dec was exhausted. Emotionally and physically. It had been just over 3 months since Ant's arrest, and life had been a nonstop, out of control rollercoaster ever since that fateful day. Each day posed a new challenge for Dec, who had recently finished his second solo presenting stint on Britain's Got Talent and now had a little bit of downtime before the next big project loomed. He hadn't been sleeping well for months, anxiety dreams and nightmares plaguing his nights, leaving him feeling exhausted and utterly defeated by the time morning came. His diet was all over the place – sometimes he could barely eat the healthy meals Ali cooked for him, while other days he found himself stress eating, binging on Chinese takeaways and junk food. Even though it had been three months since everything kicked off, he was still having trouble adjusting to being almost daily tabloid fodder and the subject of frequent paparazzi ambushes. BGT had been incredibly stressful, as had the weeks of production meetings and rehearsal/training sessions for opening routines in the lead up to the actual live shows. Actually, everything was stressful these days, it seemed like. Dec felt like he was being attacked on all sides, like he could trust nobody, everyone was out for his and Ant's blood.

He had decided to go home to Newcastle for a few days, needing to get away from the constant paparazzi attention in London. He had hoped he could get some peace and quiet, maybe even spend a day or two of prayer and reflection at the Catholic retreat his brother Dermott helped run. Ali had stayed behind in London – she wasn't keen on flying with the baby on the way, and neither she nor Dec felt like driving or taking a train. When Dec arrived in Newcastle International Airport, he could feel his shoulders slump as he took in a deep breath. He felt like he could breathe again. He'd somehow managed to sneak out of London without any paps spotting him, thanks to taking an early morning flight, and now he was rushing through the terminal in Newcastle, hoping against hope no one would spot him. Miraculously, he got to his hired taxi without anyone recognizing him – no mean feat in his and Ant's home city – and hopped in, muttering the address to his mam's house.

The cabbie had obviously recognized him as soon as he saw him, but was discrete enough to realize Dec was in no mood for talking, so kept quiet, driving through the city streets with the radio playing quietly. The radio was tuned to a local talk show station, and the hosts were currently talking about various entertainment news. Dec was halfway enjoying their busy chatter, zoning in and out of their conversation about various actors and upcoming films...Until they said a heartbreakingly familiar name: Ant McPartlin. Mind sharpening painfully, despite knowing he'd be better off not hearing whatever they were about to say, he listened intently.

Man's voice: "So what do you think of Jeremy Hunt's recent remarks on Twitter about local heroes Ant and Dec? The Sun have printed a story about it. Do you think he's right, that Dec's better on his own, that it would be better for them both if they split up?"

Woman: "D'you know, I get what he's saying, like. Dec's done an amazing job by himself, but I still can't quite get used to seeing him all on his own. It just don't look right."

Man: "But did you see what Jeremy said? That he thinks Ant's had enough, but keeps coming back because Dec wants him to? You've got to admit, that does seem plausible. If he's depressed and turning to drink and drugs, he can't be enjoying his job that much. Jeremy also claims Dec has always been the more confident of the two, where Ant's more shy. If Dec's forcing Ant to carry on, that's not a healthy relationship, he's not putting Ant first...."

"TURN OFF THE RADIO!" Dec shouted, startling the driver so badly the car nearly went off the road. Hurriedly hitting the volume button to mute the radio, the driver glanced in the rear view mirror, looking rather ashamed. "Sorry, squire," he apologized, sounding genuine, although a bit shocked. If what had transpired a few seconds ago had stunned him, what he saw in the mirror really shook him to his core. Dec was curled in on himself in the backseat, hands covering his face as his shoulders shuddered continuously with the sobs he was trying so hard to suppress. Turning his eyes back to the road in silent dismay, the cabbie felt his heart going out to the broken man in the back of his car.

Dec was in agony. The talk show host's words were echoing in his head, constantly bouncing off the walls of his mind, burrowing deeper, deeper into his wounded soul. The guilt he'd been trying so hard to work through with his therapist had reappeared as if by magic, taunting him, telling him he could have prevented all of this if only he'd paid more attention to his friend. Seeds of doubt had now been sown in his mind – what if Ant was just doing the telly stuff because of him? And who the hell did Jeremy Hunt think he was, anyway?! Who was he to comment on them, on their relationship? Dec could feel righteous fury erupting from his fractured heart. He knew anger wasn't healthy, especially with everything he was dealing with physically and emotionally these days, but he couldn't help it. He. Was. Furious.

The thing is, he wasn't even truly angry at Jeremy Hunt or the insensitive radio host. He was angry at the world. At life. At himself. Dec had been trying so hard to work through his issues, to heal and leave behind the pain, to find a new normal. And he had made some progress – admittedly, not very much, but it was still progress. Yet with a few choice sentences, some random stranger on the radio – and a random soap opera star claiming to be a "close friend" – had eaten away every single bit of headway he'd made, and had burned new holes in his wounded soul that would need to be addressed. He'd had about enough of this. He couldn't take much more. What a great start to his time off.

Thankfully, the taxi was now pulling up in front of his mam's house, marking an end to his disastrous journey home. Scrubbing his face with his hands tiredly, Dec clambered out of the car, walking around to the boot to take out his luggage. To his immense surprise, the cabbie was already there, silently handing him his things with a sympathetic smile on his face. No, no, no. Dec couldn't cope with pity right now, he was too close to breaking down as it was. But he resisted the urge to snap at the man, instead thanking him in a trembling voice and giving him a generous tip with the pointed words, "You didn't see anything." Nodding in understanding, the man shook Dec's hand firmly, and with a heartfelt, "Take care," climbed back into his vehicle and drove away, marveling at what he'd just been witness to.

Hearing the quiet swish of a door opening behind him, Dec turned to see his mam, Anne, standing on the threshold, a bright, welcoming smile gracing her features. Her face quickly fell when she saw the weary resignation cloaking her son's normally cheerful face, and she ushered him inside, clucking over him like a mother hen. He was her youngest, and had always been coddled as a child, having everything done for him by his parents and the rest of his siblings. Her son really hadn't changed much over the years. Yes, he'd matured, had grown stronger, wiser, and far, far richer, but in essence, fame and money hadn't really altered the young man who'd left for London with his best friend all those years ago. But he scared her now, she'd never seen him like this in his 42 years of life. Ali had been good about keeping Anne in the loop on how her son was coping with everything – which wasn't very well – but Anne was still worried sick over her young Declan who meant so much to her. He was a shell of his former self, and it was frightening to see her son so broken and very far away from himself.

She didn't blame Ant for Dec's current condition. Yes, she was angry with Ant for what he'd done, but she was also extremely concerned about him – she loved him like a son, and she knew how much he and Dec loved each other and needed each other. She was praying for Ant to get well, talking to him regularly and trying to be a good secondary motherly support to him as he turned his life around. She spoke with Christine almost daily – in some ways, their close friendship with each other was not dissimilar to the one Ant and Dec shared – exchanging news of their respective son and their worries over them. Anne was extremely proud of Ant and all he had done to change his ways and find a happier life away from the temptations of alcohol. She knew, deep down, that he would come through this all. She just hoped her son would, too.

Having settled Dec on the sitting room settee, Anne bustled into the kitchen where she'd had a kettle on the boil in readiness for her son's arrival. She'd also baked some of his favourite biscuits the night before, hoping the special treat would help raise his spirits. She wasn't feeling quite as confident of their success at their mission in life now she'd seen her son, but she was going to try anyway. Carrying Dec's tea and a plate of biscuits into the sitting room, Anne paused as her eyes took in the sight in front of her. Dec was standing by the window looking out into the back garden, silent tears coursing down his cheeks, his arms wrapped tightly around his torso in a self-hug, a seemingly desperate attempt at gaining some form of comfort.

Placing the tea and biscuits on the coffee table, Anne walked up to her son and gently turned him to face her before securing him in a warm hug that radiated motherly love and care. That opened the floodgates, and mother and son stood without speaking for several minutes, Dec wrapped up in his loving mother's arms. When the shuddering breaths had finally slowed to breathy hiccups, Anne led Dec over to the settee, wordlessly handing him his mug of tea. Mustering a small, childlike smile of delight when he saw his favourite biscuits, Dec murmured, "I love you, Mam. Thank you."

"Oh, Declan, you know I'd do owt for you, pet," Anne spoke gently, rubbing her son's arm with her thumb. "Did something happen on the way here? You sounded so excited over the phone yesterday." Unable to lie to his mam, Dec simply nodded his head, casting his teary eyes to the floor as he remembered the cruel words that had sucked away the peace he'd initially felt upon entering his hometown. "Did you read the papers today, Mam?" he asked, voice hushed and quivering with misery. "No, Declan, you know I won't touch the tabloids anymore, not after what they've done," came her quiet reply, her voice laced with bitter distaste.

Dec and his family partly blamed the press for Ant's inability to fully recover from his addictions after his first stint in rehab the previous year. The paps had hounded him nonstop, with stories being run almost daily for months on end. Vicious rumors had abounded, further hindering his difficult recovery from the illness that had gripped him for so long. And when the news of his divorce hit the fan, things got even worse. He wasn't coping well at all with the public's knowledge and speculation over the breakdown of his marriage – not to mention the sorrow he felt at the end of such a long, previously happy relationship – and it was at this point that the secret drinking had begun again, he'd later admitted to his shattered mam, Christine.

So the Donnelly clan were right to hold a bitter grudge against the tabloids, as the papers' meddling in business that wasn't theirs had played a vital role not only in the public downfall of a man they considered family, but also the private breakdown of their beloved son, brother, uncle. Every last member of the vast Donnelly family had been doing their part in trying to support Dec and buoy him up, but they were all worried about his mental health. It was no secret amongst certain members of the family that Dec had struggled with mental health in past years, but none of them had ever seen him this bad, and, quite frankly, it scared them.

In the end, Dec couldn't bring himself to repeat what he'd heard, instead pulling up The Sun's article on his phone and silently wincing as he showed it to his mam. She'd surprised him by cursing loudly as she read the article – Anne was a gentle, kindly woman by nature, and it was extremely rare for her to utter even one curse word, much less an angry torrent of words as was leaving her mouth now. Eventually shoving Dec's phone back into his hands with a terse order to "Put it away," Anne turned to her son, an accusatory tone to her soft voice. "You know you're not to read the papers, son, you know that! We've been through this before, Declan, it's not good for you!"

"But I didn't, Mam," Dec weakly defended himself. His voice now nothing but a whisper, "I heard it on the radio, a talk show. They said we have an unhealthy relationship, that Ant's only working 'cause I want him to, that I'm not putting Ant first. What if they're right?" The last sentence was tortured, trembling, full of pain. Her heart breaking as she took in her distraught son's words, Anne was filled with anger at the insensitive brutes who had hurt her son with their callous words.

"I can tell you right now, they're full of s***!!" Anne vehemently stated, fixing her son with an intense gaze. "Christine has told me a million times how Ant is missing working with you, how much he loves and misses his job." Dec's eyes filled with tears at his mother's words, longing for the days when he and Ant would spend each and every day together, attending meetings, filming, working up ideas for shows....Yes, he misses working with Ant, too, more than words could express. "He doesn't blame you for owt, Declan, and you know it." Her son nodded. Just once, but she knew he understood.

"Christine said Ant was planning on going out shopping today with the girls?" The unspoken question hung in the air, Anne unwilling to give voice to her silent query. She knew Ant hadn't been keeping in touch with Dec as much lately, his new relationship with Anne-Marie taking up much of his time and energy. Anne knew her boy through and through, and could tell that Dec wasn't coping well with Ant giving him the cold shoulder in favor of spending time with his new girlfriend and her two daughters. Dec had always been very possessive of Ant, even back when they were teenagers, and she could tell he was hurt that Ant was currently choosing Anne-Marie over him. But of course Dec wanted nothing more than for Ant to be happy again, so said nothing, accepting his fate of apparently becoming second best in Ant's life. But it hurt, of course it did, and his jealousy over Ant's love and attention was one of the issues he had started working on with his therapist. So Anne was hardly surprised when Dec flinched before answering, "I don't know, was he?" sounding defensive but lost, not dissimilar to a petulant child who'd had his favourite toy stolen away from him.

"When's the last time you spoke, Declan?" Anne asked gently, her eyes searching his. His answer was halting, mumbled. "Last week?" The loneliness was palpable in his voice, and Anne felt a tiny bit of ire at Ant for ignoring her son when he needed him most. They needed each other, Anne corrected herself, remembering Christine's recent concern over Ant admitting to distancing himself slightly from Dec out of guilt at what he was putting his friend through. Ant obviously knew Dec had just finished the BGT live shows about a week ago – he and Dec had gone for a quick meal together the day after the final – and he had been shocked to see how utterly drained Dec looked, which of course sparked the fire of guilt in Ant's mind. Plus, of course, Ant had struggled with the fact that the BGT live shows were taking place without him there. But it wasn't Anne's place to reveal the full truth of the matter to Dec – that was something the two of them would have to work through together – so for now, she just tried to reassure him as best she could that Ant still loved him just as much, it's just he was in the infatuation phase of a new relationship.

To be fair on Dec, he'd never gone through this before. When Ant and Lisa had gotten together, the two men were touring the country as popstars and sharing a flat. So they were always together, and Dec was a constant presence in the early years of Ant and Lisa's relationship, although obviously he was fine with them having time to themselves as well. And Ant had been together with Lisa for almost 25 years, so it had been a long, long time since he'd started a new romantic relationship. Dec was very happy for Ant, naturally. It was still early days for Ant and Anne-Marie, but they already seemed like soulmates, and Ant was loving taking on the role of stepdad to Anne-Marie's two daughters. After struggling so long to have kids with Lisa, it was wonderful for Ant to suddenly have an addition of two children in his life, and they already adored him, so it was all off to a good start.

But it still hurt that Ant was currently choosing Anne-Marie over Dec, and Dec also had some reservations about Ant being so reliant on Anne-Marie for his recovery. What if it all went wrong? What if they had a row over something silly and broke up? What then? How would Ant react? And since Anne-Marie seemed to be more important to Ant than he was, how would he be able to help Ant if it all went pear-shaped again? These thoughts and many more plagued Dec day in and day out, worry over his nearest and dearest friend – and the whole sorry situation – driving him mad and further damaging his health, both mental and physical. All he longed for was to have his Ant back again, but the ache in his heart and insecurity over his own worth taunted him, telling him things would never be the same again.

[topweeklyupdate]

TØP Weekly Update #62: They’re *Really* Back (9/14/18)

We knew going into this week that there was a real storm coming, and that was an understatement. Though the complete Trench album is still waiting to be released, it really feels like the band is back more than ever. 

This update is a novel-sized doozy. Grab your new merch, and let’s dive into it.

This Week’s TØPics:

A Complete Diversion in London Brings Trench (and a Flaming Car) to the Stage

The Boys Speak to the Press: Rock Sound and Alt Press Announce Special TØP Issues, and the Boys Hop Back Onto Radio

First Details Emerge About “Neon Gravestones���, “Pet Cheetah”, Clancy, Nico, and More As the Press Hear the Album for the First Time

Major News and Announcements:

The big one finally hit: after over a year, Twenty One Pilots returned to their home on the stage. They started making flex moves before the show even started. They arrived in London two days in advance, rehearsing and playing soundchecks into the night that die-hard campers could hear from outside the venue. They arranged for folks in Bandito uniforms to dispense 150 tickets to those that showed up at the box office.  The venue delivered food to the queue, and the Clique in turn donated their blankets and duvets to a local soup kitchen. Pretty darn sweet.

The real event was even sweeter. 

Twenty One Pilots did not quite pull out all of the stops for their first performance in over a year. The set was just over an hour, did not debut any never-before-heard songs, did not include any special guests, and mainly stuck to the skeleton of the Blurryface Era setlist. And you know what? There was absolutely nothing wrong with that. If anything, Tyler and Josh keeping things focused on dusting off the old gears and introducing a few new elements for the Trench era resulted in a tight and emotional return for today’s greatest band. (Shout out to Ohio Clique for editing fifteen different Periscope and Instagram Live streams together to make a cohesive concert movie.)

Highlights of the show include:

There were no screens present in the smaller venue, but the production crew did make sure to bust out a ton of other great production elements, including tons of lights and, most notably, the car from the  “Heavydirtysoul” video that bursts into flames at key points during certain songs- including, at one point, when Tyler was standing on it.

The Clique brought the production value in the crowd, too: beyond all the folks dressed up as Banditos and Bishops, you also had plenty of people bring in yellow screens for their flashlights and yellow flowers and petals to offer Tyler.

The setlist was pretty sensible, with the four new Trench singles plus all of the songs that you would have expected them to play at an old festival show (minus “Guns for Hands” and “Tear In My Heart”, no I’m not sweating, why?). It is interesting that “WDBWOTV” and “The Judge” were played, but I suspect that it was mainly to justify bringing out the ukulele for “Nico”; if there are more uke tracks on Trench, I would not be surprised to see one or both of these songs dip out of the regular rotation.

Tyler had to stop the show twice to help people out of the pit- it was that kind of show.

The show opened with Josh coming out on stage in full Bandito regalia, torch in hand, looking like a badass. After sitting down at the drums and playing a few simple sequences, a masked man with a bass guitar walked out on the stage, started playing “Jumpsuit”’s gnarly riff, and yelled for the crowd to “GET UP!” Awesome. Twenty One Pilots is back, mate.

Tyler stumbled over a few lyrics in “Jumpsuit” and “Levitate”, but he successfully played it off- only the most diehard fans would have caught that he wasn’t just pausing for breath or to hear the crowd.

Tyler actually yelled “Why’d you come, you know you should have stayed?” at the end of “Heathens”, and it sounded damn good. Hope it sticks for future shows.

Tyler’s “WDBWOTV” pre-speech was a pretty good inaugural address for the Trench Era. He let the rabid audience know that he had been watching them since before the concert (both literally and metaphorically), joked about needing to get back in “show shape”, and thanked London for being a home away from home for them. In gratitude for hosting them, Tyler even announced that they were adding a third arena show at Wembley and joked that Mark should tweet it or something (he did).

Prior to playing “Nico”, Tyler adorned a bright yellow jacket over his usual uke kimono; Josh helpfully banged the drums dramatically for every successful button.

Tyler and Josh did the handshake during “Nico”, because of course they did.

For “My Blood”, Tyler drew from the old playbook and attempted to direct the two halves of the audience to sing harmonies. It worked even better than it used to with “Doubt”, much to Tyler’s evident glee- his smile and little dance to everyone singing his new song back at him was probably the best moment of the whole show.

The Trees Speech was short and sweet, with Tyler promising that he’s written “pages and pages” of things he wants to say, but for now all he can say is that they’ll be coming back on the new tour with “things we’ve never seen before” and that the fans look so good.

#YellowConfettiConfirmed

In the last bit of major news: new merch (that Josh stitched himself, be nice) and a new yellow Trench vinyl that I’m sure won’t immediately sell out. Have fun spending your life savings, kids!

Other Shenanigans:

The band was active in other spaces this week, of course. After Zane Lowe broke open the floodgates last week, both Rock Sound and Alternative Press announced that they would release some exclusive Trench Era Content (tm). Rock Sound’s came in the form of a thirty-page mag featuring a lengthy 22-page feature comprised of the first interview the two bands gave together since before the hiatus, Tyler and Josh’s first full photoshoot in over a year, and tons of awesome posters and Clique art. It definitely is not available in any form on the Internet that I’m afraid to link to lest I get pegged for copyright and sent to jail. Highlights of this interview that I certainly haven’t read include:

Lots of typical Rock Sound purple prose, in which the writer goes off on more tangential metaphors than even Tyler Robert Joseph.

The reporter describes Tyler’s house as “quite stunning” (yeah, with that Blurryface money combined with Columbus real estate values, I should hope so).

Josh laughs at the memory of some of their old costumes. “Those suits were so hot,” he says, as if those heavy coats aren’t a billion degrees inside.

Tyler: “There’s something healthy about realizing that the world keeps turning. Sometimes it can feel like the whole world is revolving around you- I think we all selfishly get to that point. When you have those moments, when you stop and realize that even if you weren’t there those other people would be, it lifts a weight that can feel very heavy. It motivates you to want to come up with a reason why you’re here.”

Tyler says they cut out social media during the hiatus in part because “removing the ability to run straight to it was important. For me, writing music is the thing I want to run to when I feel compelled or inspired. Whether it’s frustration or anger or compassion, whatever it is that I wanted to express, I wanted it to live somewhere new. I didn’t want one drop of meaningful expression to live anywhere else.” Additionally, they did want to test whether the Clique would stick around, and even kinda hint that they wanted to shrink how crowded some of the rooms they entered were becoming.

We are assured, however, that the next “hiatus” will not be the exact same as this. Tyler: “Going away broke my heart. It hurt that we weren’t able to tell people why we had gone, but I’m an advocate of showing people what I’ve been working on rather than telling them how hard I’m working. [...] That said, though we don’t know what the timeframe will be or if we’ll take another break, the manner in which we left... we’ll never do that again.”

I’m just gonna leave this here: “He tells us also of the beautiful relationship he has with his wife, Jenna, and the role that she played in helping him unlock the words and the sounds that would form the basis of this new chapter; of the times he would hand her the phone while behind the wheel of his car to allow her to record anything from melodies to simple poems.” Yeah, will someone sweep up all the pieces of my heart that are just lying on the floor, that’d be great.

Tyler has long had the idea to tell a geographic story, much longer than since the end of the last cycle, and he didn’t always intend to tell it through music. “I feel like in our mind there are places we learn we shouldn’t go.”

Tyler says that there are lots of songs that he writes that never see the light of day because he has moved past the season he wrote them in by the time it comes to record them.

Rock Sound is positively glowing in its brief advance review of the album, saying it is undoubtedly the best project of 2018, “a labor of love”, “a varied, often spectacular collection” with some of the band’s all-time greatest moments. It will be even more sonically diverse than we’ve come to expect: “Morph” is described as “old-school R&B”, “The Hype” “anthemic indie-rock”, “Pet Cheetah” has “stomping beats and a fiery rap verse.” The highlight, though, is apparently “Neon Gravestones”, “a piano-laden spoken word masterpiece” with lyrical content that “will save at least one person’s life”. Damn.

Alt Press will also be releasing a 24-page cover feature on the band and were even nice enough to include a fun video ad from the boys. They’re so cute, and I’ve missed them so much. (Also, Tyler’s checkered pants are a quality meme.)

After the Complete Diversion, Tyler and Josh performed a mini-press tour. First, they gave five-minute interview with Annie Mac on BBC Radio 1 and an Instagram Stories AMA on the station’s account. Highlights of this quickie include:

Josh and Tyler joke that specifying the exact number of months they’ve been away sounds like a mother saying their kid is “14 months” instead of a year old.

Tyler notes that this was the first performance in a long time that they’ve felt truly nervous, as they could no longer rely on muscle memory to carry them through after the long break, particularly with the new songs.

Annie references her last interview with Josh, where he confessed to be nervous about whether the fans would return. When asked if the first show helped them overcome those nerves, Tyler replied honestly, “To an extent, yes.” They chuckle about it, but the implication remains thick: the dedicated fanbase certainly turned up, but there is no assurance that they’ll have long-term mainstream success in the future. They seem cool with that.

Tyler states that they chose London specifically to make their return because, besides Columbus, it’s the only city where they have played in every size of venue, from the Barfly club to the Ally Pally and everything in-between over the course of fifteen shows. That type of home atmosphere made it feel right to start the new era there.

Josh says they played a bowling alley in London once. He did not wear bowling shoes in the set nor when he bowled afterward, which, as Tyler points out, is very punk rock.

Tyler reflects on how this show represents years of preparation and practice teaching them how to “trim the fat” and master the tempo and flow of the concert to appear as confident as possible and bring the audience along for a well-planned journey.

“My Blood” is one of the most challenging songs for both artists to play, particularly Tyler, as he has to balance the difficult falsetto with keeping that bassline groovy and consistent.

The IG answers were mostly just the dudes trying and failing to answer basic questions like “Are you happy to be back?” and “What’s it like to be famous?” in as few words as possible without giggling, hugging, and tickling each other. Best Q/A: Why did they watch the Grammys in their underwear? “We didn’t have air-conditioning.”

South African DJ Rob Forbes from Radio 5FM also conducted a truly fascinating interview with the band, the first that dives into the lore and one that gives us even more of a glimpse into some of the future songs. Additionally, Mr. Forbes briefly posted the tracklist w/ time-codes, revealing that both “Chlorine” and “Bandito” go over five minutes- get hyped, kids. Highlights from this interview include:

When asked about Clancy, Tyler responds with a pregnant silence before asking how the the interviewer knew about him. DJ Forbes stutters an answer about having listened to the record, but Tyler replies that Clancy’s not on the record. All he does say about Clancy is “I’ve heard about him, and I know we’re from the same place.” What is up with your cryptic nonsense, Tyler Robert Joseph?

The band intentionally left the Trench Trilogy open-ended to be able to continue it in the future. Tyler did not mean to make the timeline confusing, but did note that its cyclical nature left it open for the Clique to pursue that interpretation.

Tyler is careful with choosing his words to describe Nico. He admits the whole thing is pretty confusing (his grandma asked him once, “What’s a Nico?”), but that was his intention: he wanted to give the Clique a lot to think about and discuss as a reward for waiting so long. He does seem to confirm that Nico is Blurryface, or at least an aspect of him that represents how much more familiar Tyler has become with the nature of his own insecurities as he writes about it.

Tyler denies that the final verse of “Neon Gravestones” has a specifically political bend and actually sounds a little offended that something so important to him could be cast in that light. No idea what that means, I need to hear this song.

The interviewer says that Tyler calls his “Pet Cheetah” “Jason Statham” within the song itself in a fun rap verse. Tyler laughs and says that came from an inside joke between him and Josh that he was excited to bring to life. I am SO confused, you have no idea.

Tyler says that they had plans at one point to come to South Africa for a show that fell through at the last second, but that they’re still interested in going at some point in the future.

Additionally, the music production interest site Mix did a small spotlight on the producers behind Trench. We already knew that Paul Meany was handling main production duty; Darrell Thorpe, whose credits include Radiohead, OutKast, Paul McCartney, and Foster the People, joined him as an engineer while the band captured the album’s drum tracks at United Recording Studios in LA, the only studio they used outside of the one in Tyler’s home. It’s always cool to see the dudes who bring the band’s music to life, but, to be honest, the best part of this short little article is Tyler’s dad socks in the photo.

Oh, and music video director Andrew Donoho told Billboard that he can’t spoil the album or Tyler will burn down his house. So... yeah, okay, moving on.

Chart Performance:

After its first full week of sales and streaming, “My Blood” secured a debut at #16 on the Billboard Bubbling Under chart ranking the songs that have yet to reach the Hot 100. The song gains at all metrics, and according to some industry sources like Headline Planet, it is receiving a concentrated marketing push to pop and adult contemporary markets that its predecessors have not. “Jumpsuit” continues to fade, but its run was respectable, and I remain optimistic about Trench’s commercial prospects going forward, especially in the midst of this hype wave.

Whew. That was a long run. Congrats to everyone who made it all the way to the end. We’re so close to Trench, you guys. Keep powering through. Stay alive. And power to the local dreamer.

|-/

[thestraggletag]

Still Waters, a May Day Menagerie Fic

Giftee: @little-inkstone

Prompt: Rumbelle + aquatic creature (I chose a Kelpie)

Summary: There’s a horse at the Mills Stables, a bony, pitiful creature with sad eyes Belle cannot help but feel drawn to. Coincidentally she feels the same way about Mr Gold, whose eyes are also melancholic, and the same startling hazel shade.

Rating: M for sex and gore.

AN: Surprise, @little-inkstone! Though you must have figured it out it is I, your... secret Zookeeper! I hope you enjoy this story. The ending fought be like a bitch, but I managed to subdue it. Sorry for the lateness of the delivery!

Tagging @maydaymenagerie for reasons.

Belle knew she was lucky. She was hardly the first person to even have to take up a second job because her first one wasn't enough to pay the bills. At least she loved both her jobs. She had always wanted to be a librarian, had always wanted to work surrounded by books. But she also loved horses, both passions inherited from her mother, so it wasn't hard for her to sacrifice her weekends and her free afternoons to work as a stable hand at the one local stable, owned by Henry Mills. As far as she knew horse-raising wasn't what accounted for the family's lavish lifestyle, but rather an exorbitant hobby, a status symbol. Cora Mills, who rumour had it had come from nothing, was an adept social climber and considered horse-riding something his daughter, Regina, needed to learn to earn her place in society. It also appeared to have the bonus of keeping the girl happy, which in turn made her less likely to fight her mother when she made decisions of her.

Belle wasn't very interested in the details, or in having anything at all to do with the Mills. But the pay was good, her boss, Daniel, was nice, and being near horses again- she hadn't had much contact with horses ever since they'd left Australia- felt good, even if the work was hard and the demands high. Daniel ran a tight ship but was kind and had a real love for the animals, which Belle was grateful for. The horses were well-kept and well-behaved, always closely monitored by the vet, specially the two polo ponies, one American and the other Argentinian. Belle took to both of them immediately, given their gentle nature. She particularly enjoyed braiding their tails before a game, since she felt both horses enjoyed the pampering.

Besides the polo ponies and two show jumpers there was a thoroughbred called Rocinante, a gorgeous chestnut that Regina Mills herself was personally training for dressage, and some older horses kept mostly for breeding. At the back, though, almost hidden away, was a box stall she hadn't noticed at first. It was unkempt, since no one seemed to be in charge of cleaning it, and housed a rather strange horse. Average in size but powerfully built, though too thin to appear healthy. It was black, with the strangest whiskey-coloured eyes she'd ever seen on a horse, and a long, matted mane. He looked close to emaciated but when she took her concerns to Daniel he surprisingly shrugged her off.

"I felt the same when I started out here, and it still doesn't sit well with me that we aren't allowed to care for the horse, but I can guarantee you the bastard's not gonna die. He's looked pretty much that way for years. Hell, I'm not even sure how old it is, but it's probably the oldest horse any of us has ever seen. It's strange, but I don't question it. Mrs Mills takes care of him herself, or so she says. Can't say I've seen her around here much, but the old boy's being kept alive somehow. And he's got enough strength to be a pain in the ass."

The horse had a foul temper, and was prone to acts of malice, though it seemed incongruous to describe a horse's actions in such a way. He wasn't just violent, there was a sort of rationality to his thinking that unnerved her. He wasn't simply destructive or ill-behaved, there was a level of cunning to his actions, something Belle couldn't quite put into words.

And as much as that did terrify her, it wasn't enough to diminish the pity she felt for the creature, malnourished and unloved as he was. He cut a pathetic figure most of the time, listless and isolated, his ribs prominent and most of his neck and muzzle covered by his matted hair. His eyes reflected a sort of sadness that made her think of when she'd lost her mom to cancer and her dad had retreated into himself, unable to cope. It'd damaged their relationship forever and had filled her with a deep-seated loneliness she had never quite managed to shake off. The horse had the same look she'd seen in the mirror often back then, and could still see now, sometimes.

It was that what made her reach out, at first with small bits of food. Though some horses, like the two polo ponies, were under a strict diet, she was allowed to give others small snacks, mostly apples- the Mills had an orchard, which made them plentiful around the stables. She tried at first to tentatively feed the stallion pieces of apple from her hand, but he reared back, often hitting the door of the stall, exactly where she leaned against. Though the floor of his stall was mucky and the straw dirty she had no choice but to drop the apple slices, hoping he'd eat them out of the floor if he refused to do so out of her hand. Though he never touched the red apples the horse did devour the green apple slices, which Belle counted as her first win.

Sometimes the stallion was out of the stables. Daniel told her Mrs Mills would sometimes fetch him early in the morning to let him out for a bit, though he was never out in the paddock. Apparently, due to his hostility, he was taken to some other paddock deep in the Mill's property, where Belle hoped he could at least enjoy some fresh air and graze. The stable was calmer in his absence, most of the horses seeming to relax visibly without him there. They were all docile animals, used to the company of each other and the presence of strange horses when they were taken to competitions or matches. But, for some reason, they were terrified of the old stallion, often cowering in a corner of their stalls whenever he'd pitch a fit for some perceived slight or the other.

It was during one of those quiet days that Belle first saw Mr Gold. She'd heard of him before, both in Storybrooke and around the stable, but even though lots of people had mentioned him to her she soon realised there was little that people actually knew about the man. Everyone spoke about him as if he'd always lived in Storybrooke, but his distinctive Scottish accent indicated he must have moved in at some point, though no one remembered, not even Granny, who'd lived all her life in the small town.

His vague origins added an extra layer of mystery to an already mysterious man. His accent wasn't the only thing to set him apart, his three-piece suits, long hair and cane also helped make him unique amongst the usual small-town dwellers. He was soft-spoken but there was an undercurrent of menace to him, something that made it easy for Belle to believe he was as dangerous as rumour had it. Whenever she saw him it was usually from a distance, Mrs Mills draped around one of his arms in a rather possessive way. He was an impeccable, impenetrable figure next to her, usually sneering, looking supremely bored.

She'd thought he had him all figured out at first. Someone nasty, like Cora was, likely amoral since it was pretty clear he was carrying on with Mrs Mill behind Mr Mills’ back, unfeeling and greedy. He owned most of Storybrooke, including the land the Mills used as their own, and was known for being unforgiving when it came to the rent or his deals. Whenever he was out with Mrs Mills he acted as if everyone was beneath his notice, as if he barely noticed people. What made Belle the most uneasy, though, was how the horses acted around him. If he approached any of their stalls they'd get strangely nervous and fidgety, and if he remained nearby they'd have to be removed, lest they hurt themselves. Belle was a firm believer in horses’ ability to judge character, which added to Mr Gold's dangerous aura.

But almost against her will she began to see another side of him, the more she randomly ran into him. She didn't know exactly when that started happening, but she couldn't say she was particularly displeased. For all his nefarious reputation and shady relationship to her boss Mr Gold was cultured and sharp, with the sort of dark sense of humour she preferred. And he was, for the most part, all bark and no bite, at least with her and specially once she began laughing at his darker remarks.

He was a lonely soul, she soon discovered, which perhaps accounted for why he intrigued her so. She was lonely too, after all, no longer a stranger new to Storybrooke like she'd been years ago but still a bit of an outsider. The horses helped, which meant she quickly got into the habit of taking a book with her to the stables and reading during breaks or once she was off the clock. She'd wander around the forested area surrounding the Mill's property- well, Gold's, apparently- and pick a spot to sit down and read. Mr Gold came across her sporadically, at first, still pristine-looking in his pressed suits and shined shoes even in the middle of the woods, but soon it became a ritual of sorts. Somehow, for whatever reason, she'd bump into Gold at least once a week, but oftentimes more, and they'd trade quips and sometimes talk about the book she was reading.

She discovered Mr Gold was extremely well-versed in classic literature, even obscure titles she had been pretty sure no one else had heard of in boring little Storybrooke. Of modern literature, however, he had no idea, so she got into the habit of loudly telling him when she'd leave a book in the stables instead of taking it home. He'd use a piece of braided leather to mark his spot, a sort of faded strip that seemed ancient and smelt faintly of something water-y. For some reason instinct told her not to tell anyone, to hide away her small interactions with Mr Gold away in the woods, save from the eyes and ears of Mrs Mills. She even made sure to keep her encounters from Daniel, who was, thankfully, a little too distracted with Regina Mills to notice anything.

It was around the time she began to low-key share her books with Gold that she made progress with the stallion, being able to approach his stall without him slamming the door in warning and feeding him apples from the palm of her hand. Up close the horse was even more imposing and pathetic at the same time, with protruding ribs, sunken eyes and what appeared to be a big iron ring on his right back leg. The skin around the ring looked red and angry, and the horse did not completely rest the hoof on the floor, as if it'd pain him to do so. When she mentioned wanting to remove it to Daniel, however, he told her not to bother.

"I took the issue up with Mrs Mills years ago, she told me on no uncertain terms that I was not to remove the ring. Of course, I tried to anyway, thing looks rusted over and like it's causing a considerable amount of pain, but was unable to. Believe me, I tried every which way. Thing just wouldn't budge. Horse seems fine with it, other than the limp, no infections or anything like that, so I just live it alone. I know it feels wrong, but there's nothing you can do."

Cora Mills wasn't a horsewoman. She could barely tolerate the stench and feel of the stables, and didn't go near any of the many horses kept there. Yet she seemed almost obsessed with the old stallion, and guarded him jealously, while at the same time doing little in the way of grooming or caring for it, to the point that oftentimes Belle would spend close to an hour finger-combing the horse's mane, removing brittle pieces of greenery and undoing what felt like ages-old knots. The horse would nuzzle against her hands in gratitude, some spark of something returning to his dull eyes. Whatever Mrs Mills did in the stables at night- Daniel had warned her against working late, telling her it was strictly forbidden- when she was supposed to be taking care of the animal was a mystery to her, because it was plain as day that there was no actual caring taking place, the neglect etched into every visible part of the animal.

That particular mystery was revealed to her one night, when she discovered she'd forgotten her keys back at the Mills’ and rushed to the stables to get them. The employee's changing rooms- Mrs Mills was a stickler for cleanliness and would not allow any of the stable hands anywhere close to her own home- where right next to the stables, which was how she was able to hear the strange thumping sounds. Hoping to be able to catch Mrs Mills actually abusing the stallion, anything concrete that would allow her to get the attention of someone other than the Sheriff's department, that would not take her animal abuse claims seriously- she crept close to the doors of the stable and pried one open just enough to see inside. The moon was full, providing enough light to see into the stables. She noticed right away that one of the wide wooden benches, which were usually kept on the very back, covered by horse blankets and an assortment of grooming supplies and bridles and saddles taken from their perch to be cleaned or delivered back to the tack room at a later time had been moved to the middle of the stables, covered by a bright red horse blanket she'd never seen anyone use, the sort of thing that seemed too luxurious and delicate to throw over an animal. There was someone lying on the bench, stark-naked, arms grasping the sides of it. She recognised the silver-streaked soft brown hair and the crooked nose before she even became aware of the other person in the room, sitting astride the first body, moving in an unmistakable fashion. Even without seeing her face there was no mistaken that auburn-tinted hair, nor those blood-red nails, digging painfully into the skin of the prone figure. It was Cora Mills, completely naked as well, looking like the years had been more than kind to her. It wasn't Mr Mills bellow her, perhaps indulging some fetish or secret pleasure of his wife, but Mr Gold. His eyes were closed, head thrown back and an expression the hovered between disgust and bliss on his usually blank face. He had scratches on his side, blood looking black as it seemed from them, and yet he was making no move to pull Cora's claws away from his exposed flesh, nor did he do anything to stop her as she rode him mercilessly.

She took a couple of steps back, almost forgetting to stay quiet. There was a nauseous sense of betrayal threatening to choke her, though she knew she had no right to it. If there was someone who was deserving of such a feeling was poor Mr Mills, kind as a lamb and likely completely unaware of the sordid little arrangement, tucked into bed thinking his wife might be revising some contracts or perhaps taking a long hot bath. And though she liked Mr Mills, liked his kind eyes, his even kinder words and the affection with which he showered his one and only daughter, Belle couldn't say she felt betrayed in his name. Whatever she was feeling was personal, in a way she had no right to. Underneath it, though, there was something else, a sense of wrongness that had nothing to do with what she might have thought was growing between herself and the older man. Something that disturbed her and she couldn't quite pinpoint how or why.

Cora's shrill cries of pleasure turned her attention almost in spite of herself back to the inside of the stables. Unable to look elsewhere her eyes became glued to Mr Gold's face, caught somewhere between pain and pleasure. Finally, he tipped his head back, lips parting to soundlessly whisper something before he came. It was just a small word, five letters that she couldn't even be sure he'd mouthed, but they shocked her into painful awareness, allowing her to silently slip away from the stables and back home as fast as her legs could carry her.

Belle. He's said Belle.

It was inevitable for things to get awkward after that, even after Belle spent an entire weekend trying to rationally convince herself nothing that she had seen was any of her business and she had no right getting offended by Mrs Mills and Mr Gold's extracurricular activities. In a way it confirmed rumours that she'd heard before, so it shouldn't even have shocked her all that much. But in spite of all that she still found herself spending less time reading in the forest, nursing some hurt feelings she wasn't really entitled to. Inevitably Mr Gold noticed and pull back, widening the distance between them that had shrunk so fast the last couple of months. It left Belle feeling petty and miserable, which in turn made her grouchy and less than welcoming.

So, what if Mr Gold had opened up to her about a few things, told her about his favourite spot, a cabin hidden in the woods, next to a river? So, what if he'd told her how it reminded him of the cottage he'd been brought up in, under the loving care of two doting aunts? His confidences didn't really give her right to be jealous or feel betrayed. And at the back of her head something niggled, some sort of revelation she couldn't quite consciously grasp yet and it bothered her. There was a certain sense of urgency attached to it that made her uneasy. The horses, bright and sensitive as they were, could tell, and they became increasingly skittish around her. The old stallion, on the other hand, became quiet and taciturn, reluctant to be tempted by her apples or her offering of pettings.

So, when she had the first dream, she attached it all to her unstable emotional state and the shock of what she'd seen. The dream itself was fussy and unclear at first, mostly the feeling of slippery scales under her fingertips and the sensation of someone smiling against the skin of her hip, pointed teeth scraping her there. But as time passed the dream became more and more defined. She began to hear sounds and see glimpses of colour, flashes of images that finally coalesced into the form of a man, tough not a traditional one. He had skin that shifted from green to grey to gold, scaly in texture, and claws. His face was hidden from her, though she sometimes caught glimpses of his golden eyes in the dark, watching her avidly.

She was always naked in her dreams, though she didn't know she knew that, but it never made her feel vulnerable or defenceless. Sometimes he'd simply watch her from the shadows, though other times he'd pet her hair, sinking his claws into it with obvious relish. And other times he was all over her, teeth and hands and skin groping, biting and sliding against every part of her he could reach. Though somehow, she knew her phantom lover was dangerous she did not fear him in her dreams, not even when he gripped her hips tight, claws sinking into her skin, or when held her arms up above her head in a vicious grip as he fucked her. Far from becoming frightened or submissive her dream self was just as savage, if not more. She bit back, thrashed against him, feeling nothing but sweet triumph whenever she could flip them around and have him beneath her, powerful and feral and completely at her mercy. They didn't have sex as much as rutted like animals, unlike anything she'd ever felt she'd be comfortable with in real life.

Unwilling to see her satisfying yet unsettling new sex dreams as connected in any way, shape or form to whatever she'd stumbled into a few weeks ago at the stables she decided instead that it was just her healthy mind coping with happened to be a very long dry spell. Not that she minded it, really, not when the alternative was subpar. She'd never been able to find small-town men to be much attractive. There was a small-world mentality to them she shied away from, even in men like Sheriff Graham that were pleasing to the eye and genuinely nice. It didn't help that the "genuinely nice men" like the sheriff were rather an exception. Most of the Storybrooke singles scene was dominated by lowlifes like Keith Nott or Arthur Penn or men like Greg Aston, who seemed to be in a committed, long-term relationship with himself. Her mother had always told her that companionship ought to feel better than being alone, and not to settle for less. And Belle was really okay, happy even, to be by herself, at least in comparison to what it'd be like to be paired up in a town like Storybrooke.

But she did get lonely, and needy, which explained the dreams and her quick, instinctual attachment to Mr Gold, as unfortunate and ill-boding as it had been. So reluctantly, but in the spirit of self-improvement and being brave, he allowed Ruby, the town matchmaker, to set her up with a man. And such a charming man he was, with a cute accent, a small build- Belle hated people towering over her- and a scrappy sense of humour. Will was perfect, except he was perfectly in love with his ex, and Belle felt no sexual attraction to him, dangerous looks and arresting accent or not.

Though her blind date turned more into a friendly meeting, complete with a phone call from the ex in the middle of it and later on a happy recounting of how his ex and he had decided to try to make things work, Belle didn't much mind it, happy enough not to have to gently let Will down at the end of the night. She thought nothing more of it until late one afternoon, when Keith cornered her at the end of her shift, while she was putting away the curry combs and dandy brushes she'd used and setting aside the bits of horse tack that needed to be put away. She never quite figured why Keith still worked at the stables. Daniel didn't tolerate him and even Mr Mills appeared to frown upon the man's almost constantly hangover estate. The way she figured out Keith was still gainfully employed mostly because he'd wear wifebeaters and flex his muscles a lot whenever Mrs Mills was around, which apparently made him a qualified stable hand. He was competent whenever his eye-to-hand coordination wasn't impaired but he had no love for the animals, and they in turn had no love for him.

He had mostly kept his distance from her, due in great part to how Daniel tended to always keep an eye on him. But Daniel had left shortly after she'd clocked in, having left to accompany Miss Mills to a dressage event, reason why Rocinante's stall was empty. She'd given it a thorough cleaning, which was why she was late to tidy up and clock out. She hadn't even thought about the possibility that it'd mean she'd be stuck alone with Keith and no one else, but the moment she became aware of it, when Keith came out of nowhere to try and grab her ass, it was too late.

"Thought you were done being a frigid bitch, Belle."

Keith had learned over the years to fake sobriety, but his eyes were bloodshot and his breath, up close and personal, stank of cheap bourbon. She tried to brush him aside and head towards the women's changing rooms, which locked from the inside, but he grabbed her wrist and violently turned her around to face him again.

"I don't have time for this, Keith. Please let go."

She willed her voice not to waver, not to show how scared she was becoming. she visibly flinched at the sound of hooves smashing against a stall door, but Keith paid it no mind.

"What, thought you liked a good English accent. Thought that's what did it for you. It's a good selling point for a lot of ladies, no need to be embarrassed."

He was trying to sound cajoling, seductive, but his posture was more threatening than enticing. Against her better judgement she moved backwards, deeper into the stables. She knew Keith was scared of the old stallion, though he tried to pretend otherwise, and thankfully the old boy was feeling feisty. If she managed to get close enough to the stall Keith might think twice before trying to grab her.

The drink, however, was giving him a false sense of bravado so when the horse again knocked hard on the stall door to almost tear it off its hinges he flinched, but quickly recovered.

"When the time comes I'll drive you to the glue factory myself, you sack of bones."

He banged on the door with an open fist, meaning to scare the animal. The horse, however, moved lightning-fast, managing to get its muzzle in between the bars and bite hard on the hand. Keith howled, so loudly Belle was surprised the sound didn't reach the big house and alert anyone. He tried to yank his hand back but the horse had a tight grip on it, and didn't look like he was going to budge. When she caught sight of the blood dripping onto the floor Belle herself panicked, throwing caution to the wind and reaching out to pet the bridge of the animal's nose, cooing soft nonsense at it until it let go. Keith stumbled out of the stables faster than she would've thought possible and though she knew she should've gone after him, made sure at least that he would get help, she didn't. She was too caught-up staring at the horse's eyes, spying the malicious intent and satisfied smugness there. He was lapping up the blood smeared around his muzzle, as if it was some rare delicacy and as he did so she caught a glimpse of gold. A gold tooth, which she'd never noticed before. One that reminded her of-

Fuck.

She raced out of the room, overwhelmed by a sudden realisation. That niggling feeling on the back of her head, that notion that she'd noticed something significant, something life-changing was back with a vengeance, and against her will her mind went back to that time he'd stumbled across Mrs Mills and Mr Gold having sex in the stables. What she had noticed and somehow erased from her conscious memory was the iron ring around Mr Gold's right ankle, so familiar to her. A ring she'd studied hundreds of times before but not on the businessman's foot, but rather her stallion's right leg.

The horse and Mr Gold were one of the same. It was nonsensical but at the same time it felt like the most obvious and plausible explanation.

For some reason Storybrooke had rather a healthy folklore section at the library, with some of the library's oldest and most valuable books in it, which Belle promptly transferred to her apartment upstairs to pour into them with as much privacy as possible. Her mother had always told her stories and legends about horses, so she had some sort of idea about what she was looking for. It became more about confirming her suspicions than anything else, and by the time she was done and it was almost morning she knew for certain: Cora Mills had trapped a kelpie.

Mr Gold... there was no Mr Gold. He was an illusion, a facade. As was the old horse. The true creature she'd never seen, though she'd caught a glimpse of it the other night, when he'd almost devoured Keith's entire hand. It explained so much, as ridiculous as she knew it sounded: why the horse was never fed but never died, how it seemed to be ancient and far too intelligent for a common animal, why Mr Gold looked so desperately unhappy, why the Mills lived on what was technically his property.

It was out of the question to do nothing once she knew. Belle had been raised to value her independence and free will above all, to be the one to decide her own fate. To have that taken away felt wrong. It didn't matter to her if the kelpie was likely far from a good creature. The legends spoke about a mean-spirited demon, an imp, a trickster that drowned and devoured people, but it didn't make him deserving of enslavement, specially under the hands of someone as naturally-cruel as Mrs Mills.

Though Belle was naturally an impulsive person she forced herself to plan, to ensure she'd be successful in breaking the kelpie out. The trick, of course, had to be in the iron ring. She purchased and practiced using a variety of different tools that might be able to pry it open, determined to think Daniel had just not tried the right thing when he had unknowingly attempted to set the creature free. She also packed a silver cross, which was meant to potentially protect her against the kelpie, should he prove to be ungrateful towards his liberator, or hungry enough to try and take a bite out of her.

The night before she was set to carry out her plan she dreamt of her phantom lover laying her out in a bed of moss and licking and biting every inch of her, driving his cock into her cunt until she felt she had no strength to orgasm anymore. Afterwards, as they laid in a tangle of sweaty limbs, he told her in a sing-songy voice of all the pleasure that still awaited her, all the different ways in which he'd make her climax the following night.

"I'm sorry, I can't. I have to free him. Mr Gold. The horse. I have to free him."

Suddenly she was clothed, her pyjamas sticky against her cooling body, and a hand was grabbing her by the throat, chocking her. In front of her she saw Mr Gold, only his eyes were golden and he had seaweed in his hair.

"You foolish child." His accent was so thick she was barely able to understand him. "Don't play around with monsters, dearie, you might not live long enough to regret it."

She'd woken up swearing she could still feel Gold's hand squeezing her neck, but she forced herself to shrug the dream off and continue with the plan. Daniel was accompanying Regina to a show-jumping event far enough to require more than a day's absence- she rather thought it was one of the main reasons Regina was participating in the event at all, given hoe lacklustre she'd been about jumping lately- which meant it was the perfect time to do it. Being the only current female employer meant it was easy to simply hide away in the women's changing room once her shift was up and wait for it to get dark. Once it was fully dark out and she was sure that Mrs Mills wasn't about to indulge in one of her... midnight rides Belle sneaked back into the stabled, hauling her bag of tools towards the last stall, where the horse seemed to strangely be waiting for her. He looked more tired than normal, as if even his usual meagre strength had been siphoned away, but tried to put up a fight once she got to her knees in front of his shackled leg, frantically trying to keep the limb out of her reach.

Through sheer force of will and determination she managed to wrestle the creature into submission, which gave her the opportunity to study the iron ring closely for the first time. It was smooth and not overly thick, but thick enough not to be able to cut away with pliers. There was no lock or hinges, only a crude melted line that seemed to have been hastily and sloppily forged. Hoping it was a weakness in the design she could exploit she made a weak attempt at prying the shackle open by pulling on both sides of the line, hoping to get a feel for it. Instead the whole thing came apart at her hands, the iron ring cracking open like an Easter egg.

"What the-?"

The horse almost fell on top of her, looking as close to death as she'd ever seen him. Whatever compulsions Cora had placed on him where gone, which also meant the full reality of his mistreatment and suffering was exposed. With gentle hands and a patience, she knew they didn't have time for Belle slowly coaxed the creature out of his stall and deep into the forest. He needed fresh water, according to what she'd read, and the river was the best source for it. The river Mr Gold talked about often, with such yearning. It made sense now.

"Come on now, we're just a few feet away now. You've been so brave and we're so close, it's all going to be al-"

It felt like getting stung by some sort of massive insect at first, uncomfortable but not overly painful. It wasn't until she felt her stomach getting wet that she looked down, noticing the blood a second before her body caught up with her and she dropped to the ground, pain exploding around her, making it hard to think. Cora Mills stood a few feet away, gun still raised and pointed where she'd been standing only a second before.

"Rumple, dear, look at yourself. So weak, so pitiful. Come back to me, precious, I'll make it all better."

Her sweet, cooing voice was thick with false concern and syrupy sweetness. A trap, a pretence. Belle moaned and turned her head to the side, noticing with unease that the kelpie was not making a run for the water, as he should, rather taking a few tentative steps towards Cora, suspicious but not completely mistrustful. Cora smiled, lips very red in the moonlight.

"That's it, that's it, my darling. We've had such good times, haven't we? We've... enjoyed each other so much. We're so alike, a true partnership. Come here, darling, surely it wasn't so bad being under my care, receiving my... enthusiastic affections."

He took a step towards her and then another. Belle whimpered as a sense of defeat washed over her, watching as the skeletal horse nuzzled against Cora's carefully-coiffed hair. A second later, however, he was grabbing the thick auburn locks with his teeth and was violently dragging the woman towards the river, acting as though her struggles and screams were of little importance to him. Cora screeched, frantically clawing at her trapped hair, trying to tear it off. Eventually the water drowned her screams and the night turned oddly peaceful.

It was hard to determine how much time passed after that. Belle seemed to blink in and out of existence, her vision becoming more and more unfocused and blurry as time passed and the moon moved across the sky. Eventually she heard splashing and was able to see the kelpie as it emerged from the river, no longer emaciated and dirty, but rather well-fed and with a sheen to his black coat. There was also blood around his muzzle and running down his powerful neck. He approached her slowly, carefully, almost lovingly, nuzzling against her like he had done with Cora. Then he tried attempting to entice her on his back. Belle knew precious little about guns or bullet wounds, but she knew that a shot in the stomach meant a slow, painful death, and that she was unlikely to be rescued at all. In contrast drowning seemed like a much more palatable death. Quicker, for sure. And riding a magical horse, even for a few seconds, was something straight out of her wildest childhood fantasies.

The kelpie felt surprisingly warm to the touch, which made lying on his back and absolute relief to the coldness Belle could not seem to shake off. Not even the low temperature of the water seemed to diminish the sensation, and though she had no strength with which to hold onto the animal she didn't drift away, somehow, nor did her lungs burn from lack of oxygen, as if the laws of nature did not apply to her as long as she rode astride the kelpie, cocooned in whatever magic he was capable of.

At some point they got out of the river, somewhere downstream, deep in the woods. Belle saw an old cottage, vaguely English in design and looking incredibly old, moss and ivy creeping up the stone and wooden walls, threatening to engulf it. It was the cottage Mr Gold had described to her often, the one he'd built in loving memory of the place where he'd grown up back in Scotland, under the care of two lovable spinsters. Cora had kept him away from it, which explained why he talked about it with such yearning.

Once out of the water whatever trick was keeping her astride the kelpie faded, just as it did the last bit of her strength. She fell to the floor with a thud, relieved to feel only a dull sort of pain. A moment later spidery arms where wrapping around her and hoisting her up, claws snagging on her cardigan and jeans. She looked up, her eyes feeling heavy, and saw the blurry shape of her dream lover looking down at her, cooing softly at her in a familiar sort of accent.

A moment later the darkness overtook her and she could hear and see no more.

The first thing she became aware of was that she was lying in a bed of thick, soft moss, a buttery-soft blanket draped on top of her naked body. A fire roared somewhere nearby, she could both hear and feel it. It took her forever to pry her eyelids open but when she did she saw the kelpie right in front of her, peering at her intently. He looked like he had in her dreams, scales and leather covering every bit of him, wide amber eyes and sharp teeth and claws. He had seaweed in his hair as well, and Mr Gold's familiar sharp nose and thin mouth. On a rational level she knew she ought to be scared, not only because of what she'd read kelpies where capable of but because he'd seen him kill in cold blood only a few hours ago.

But even though she tried to will herself to be scared the emotion did not materialise, overridden by a burning sort of curiosity that had her reaching out, the fingertips of her right hand gliding over the smooth scales of the kelpie's face. They were dry but slippery, and oddly warm to the touch, which was unexpected. His eyes, strangely cat-like and a deep molten gold, fluttered close when she slid her fingers into his hair, fascinated by the texture of it.

"You're a wonder."

His words startled her, not just by the strange pitch of his voice but by the words themselves. It seemed incongruous for the straight-out-of-lore creature to call her a wonder, and she must have said something, because he laughed, the sound more akin to a purr.

"Not an ounce of fear in you, pretty thing, can't even smell a hint of wariness. Such light, so sparkly and warm inside you, so exquisitely bold."

One of his clawed hands began playing with the tips of her hair, tugging on it in a way that made her scalp tingle pleasantly.

"Such goodness, to bestow it even on a monster. It's no surprise Cora's nasty iron ring didn't stand a chance."

He tugged her closer using her hair, and though it forced Belle to bend close to him it didn't scare her. He pressed his nose on the spot where her neck met her shoulder, inhaling deeply.

"So sweet. Such a pretty light. Never been so close to something like it. Makes me want to gobble it up."

Even though she was absolutely certain the kelpie had not only killed but also eaten Mrs Mills his apparent desire to devour her did not provoke any sort of revulsion or alarm. If anything, it excited her.

"What- what are you going to do to me?"

The kelpie slowly clawed at the tartan blanket, coaxing it away from her body. She let him, finding it all strangely, reassuringly familiar. She'd dreamed about it countless times, after all.

"Never seen anything so pure. Wanna feast on it, get drunk on it. I'm an old kelpie, sweet one, with vast knowledge and experience. I collect things, rare things, valuable things. Things with power. Things that I feel a connection to. And you, pretty thing? You I aim to keep."

As he spoke to her he coaxed her on her back, peeling the last of the blanket off till she was naked in the firelight. The kelpie's clothes disappeared too, dissolving into thin air in that inexplicable way that happens in dreams and fantasies, though Belle knew for a fact it was neither. This was real, startlingly real, and she needed to think about the ramifications of what she'd do next. A moment later the kelpie's mouth was on hers, and her thoughts grew pleasantly muddled. It felt exactly like it had in her dreams, only more intense. The creature was all sharp edges and skinny limbs, but deceptively strong, easily pinning her to the mossy bed beneath. There was a challenge in the way he overpowered her, a provocative playfulness that made her struggle to gain the upper hand. He seemed delighted by it, nipping at her skin to encourage her to retaliate in kind and practically trembling in pleasure when she scratched him by accident.

It was a strangely-liberating experience, new and exciting and yet familiar and comforting, a primal, well-rehearsed danced they practiced a hundred times before in her dreams, in dozens of different ways. When she finally had him on the floor, legs on either side of his hips, one hand on his long mane of hair, keeping him pliant and obedient beneath her she finally saw a flicker of hesitation in his golden eyes. His expression softened, becoming more open and a clawed hand came to rest on top of her left breast, where her heart beat furiously.

"It's forever, dearie."

There was an unspoken question in his voice. Belle was sure the kelpie himself didn't know what he was asking, whether he'd be able to let her go if she asked. Fortunately for both of them, she didn't want to. She pressed her moth against his softly, gently, marvelling at how it disarmed him completely. It was heady to have such power over a creature as powerful as the kelpie was, but Belle did not allow herself to explore that. Instead she sunk into the kelpie's member, digging her nails into his scalp as her body adjusted to the wonderful sensation of fullness that followed. The kelpie trembled, thrashing and whimpering when a tug on his mane made him still. She began to ride him then, slowly and sweetly at first and harder and faster as her belly tightened and her mind became fussier and fussier. Orgasming felt a bit like reaching the end of a long, hard run, muscles aching, heart racing and a feeling of elation overtaking her. The kelpie curled up around her tight as he came, breathless from the exertion, possessively wrapping his bony arms around her, dragging her down with him as he laid back against the moss, wiggling till he was comfortable. He made a sound of contentment when she dragged the tartan blanket on top of both of them, trapping whatever body heat was leftover. There was a voice nagging on the back of her mind, telling her to take a minute and think about what she was doing, what she ought to do next. But the kelpie was warm and comfy beneath her, and the fire kept the room pleasantly toasty. It was all too easy to push the voice aside and close her eyes, the distant sound of the running river lulling her into a dreamless sleep.

[srona58]

TAYLOR IN REPUTATION IS JAY GATSBY!!!

No disrespect to cats or food or sleep or Florida or hockey or Chris Pratt or Star Wars or Mark Hamill or Christmas or snow or porgs or Robert Downey Jr or cheesecake or even my Avy, but Reputation literally just brought my two favorite things on this planet together and I want to cry: Taylor Swift and the Great Gatsby. 

 Don’t believe me?  It took me an entire listen all the way through but I AM DYING; Gatsby is my all time favorite book and I have written about it, read it, and watched the movies thousands of times…so, let me know what you think.

Let’s start off simple.  For those of you who haven’t read the Great Gatsby, it’s a dramatic love story that doesn’t have a very happy ending.  Jay Gatsby is a rich, yet shady to the public eye, man who throws parties for the girl he used to love before he went to war.  He moved near her and eventually they got back together…only to end up in a crazy, mixed up tragic ending.  Daisy is married to Tom, but Tom is seeing Myrtle..this will all make sense later on.   So, if you don’t want spoilers, don’t read ahead…but please do anyway, haha.

The book/movie had a few themes that were repetitive – the color green, which included hope and wealth, the locations, and giant parties representing the 20s.  Start with So It Goes, Dancing With Our Hands Tied, and Dress - all mention the same color gold, which is also equal to the idea of wealth and money that the color green gives in Gatsby.  The lyrics in SIG are ‘gold cage, hostage to my feelings’, DWOHT says ‘painted my golden’, and a ‘golden tattoo’ is mentioned in Dress.  

Now, take notes of the songs Ready For It, Delicate and Dress – all discuss the theme of an island or the east and west side.  In RFI, she talked about moving to an island, and in Delicate she talks once about the ‘east side, where you at?’ and later says ‘third floor on the west side’ – yes, she is talking about New York, I assume, but the East and West Egg are mentioned over and over again as the home bases for the characters in Gatsby. Last: in This is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things, King Of My Heart, and New Year’s Day, the lyrics are almost a mirror to the party life of Gatsby.  TIWWCHNT is a complete match, using lyrics like ‘it was so nice throwing big parties’, ‘everyone swimming in a champagne sea’, ‘bass beat rattling the chandelier, feeling so Gatsby for that whole year’.  This is probably the only time I’m going to mention this song in this rant, though, since it’s solely about the parties when discussing this Gatsby idea.  KOMH mentions fancy cars and the idea of ‘fancy me not fancy stuff’ which is how Daisy sees past the parties to see Gatsby for him.  NYD discusses ‘glitter on the floor after the party’, which again, is obviously a party mention.

Now, here we go with chronological things that I feel line up to the story of Gatsby and how Reputation follows this.

In Ready For It, the question of ‘ready for it?’ definitely reminds me of when Daisy asks ‘Gatsby?  What Gatsby?’ in the opening of the book/movie; this sets up the whole story, as does this first song on the album.

Lets move onto End Game.  The words ‘big reputation’ are repeated over and over again, which, yes, is the album title, but in Gatsby, Jay is always given a bad wrap by people he doesn’t know, and he knows the rumors being shared about him – example, when Nick is trying to locate Gatsby at his first party and he is told several things, including murder, about the man before they meet by other guests.  Gatsby definitely has ‘big enemies’, like Taylor has in End Game.

I Did Something Bad and Don’t Blame Me both remind me of the song Lana Del Rey did for the latest movie version of Gatsby, ‘Young and Beautiful’ - they both have that mystical backing vocals.  Now, I Did Something Bad links back to the reputation of Gatsby/Taylor, saying ‘cause for every lie I tell them, they tell me three’; she is saying the can always one up her with more rumors or lies.   Then, Don’t Blame Me states that ‘your love made me crazy’ – yes, we can relate this back to Blank Space, but in the end of the book/film, he also goes over the edge and gets angry, eventually scaring Daisy off.

With Delicate, Taylor asks ‘is it cool that I said all that’ – which directly uses the word cool, as Daisy does when she tells Gatsby he always ‘looks so cool’.  She also talks about pretending someone is ‘mine all the damn time,’ as Gatsby does the entire time they are separated and he is pursuing getting Daisy back.  Gorgeous also uses the word cool, then mentions ‘consequence[s] of you touching my hand in a darkened room’, which could relate to when Gatsby and Daisy go off to the woods during the first party of his that Daisy attends.

Let’s head into So It Goes, which furthers the discussion of the party in which they escape together in secret, hiding from Tom, Daisy’s husband. Taylor sings ‘all eyes on us’ and ‘but when you get me alone, it’s so simple’, which is how easy it is for Daisy to fall right back into place with Gatsby once she realized he is living near her.  She also writes about ‘doing bad things’ which could foreshadow how Gatsby and Daisy get in trouble near the end, but NO, I do not feel like this mimics how the book/movie ends…completely.

Look What You Made Me Do was our first single from the album and while I love this, it also covers a big part of the Gatsby story line.  ‘You said the gun was mine’ directly relates to how everyone blamed Gatsby for killing Mertyl, when in reality, it was Daisy but no one knew.  This is the part of the book/movie where everything turns from good to bad, and for the album, this is where it goes from good to bad and is the beginning of the demise of Gatsby…so, turning points at the same place?

Getaway Car follows, which ironically follows the story line of Gatsby, too!  Yes, Taylor is probably referring to Joe saving her, BUT it also can relate to Gatsby and Daisy using the car to escape back to New York after Jay raises his temper and scares Daisy off while in the city.  The song starts off with ‘I wanted to leave him, I needed a reason’ and Daisy wanted to leave Tom and was waiting for Gatsby to tell him and give her a reason to.    ‘We’d never get far’ refers to Gatsby and Daisy never getting far with their relationship, as Taylor hadn’t with her past relationships.  Then, she writes ‘I shoulda known I’d be the first to leave’, as Daisy leaves before Gatsby dies, knowing she could never truly be with him.  The other big parts in this song are ‘but you weren’t thinkin, and I was just drinkin’, well, he was runnin’ after us, I was screaming’ and ‘it hit you like a shotgun, shot to the heart’ – the first just sets up the car ride home where Daisy is wildly driving after they were all drinking in the hotel in the city, and the latter is the scene where Gatsby is, quite literally, shot and killed in the heart by Mertyl’s husband.  Last, one of the lyrics is ‘the last time you saw me’, and after that scene I just described, Gatsby never saw Daisy again.

Continuing…  Dancing With Our Hands Tied uses the phrase ‘love you in secret’, for obvious reasons.  It also says ‘nothing in the world that could stop it’, which is what Gatsby though, because, after all, he was seeing the world through the eyes of God…but that’s a different in-book concept.  Later on in the song it talks about ‘I’d hold you as the water rushes in if I could dance with you again’ – Gatsby hears the phone ring while in the pool before he is shot and whispers Daisy’s name, even though it was Nick calling; he is shot and killed with the hope that Daisy had come back, and as he sinks into the WATER, he is thinking about the past few days he spent DANCING with Daisy and trying to get her back.

Call It What You Want, a personal favorite, generally relates to the incident with the gun at the end and how Gatsby was finally taken down by Mertyl’s husband.  His ‘castle crumbled [literally] overnight’, and he didn’t bring any weapons when his killer brought the gun.  After he died the windows of the house were boarded up – ironically after the shit show of a storm their lives became.  AND ‘late November’ is in the fall (even though Gatsby is shot near Labor Day).

And now the last song on the album, New Year’s Day, is the one that differs, but it is GOOD.   The one big line that stands out to me is ‘don’t read the last page’ – DO NOT READ THE LAST PAGE OF GATSBY, because it delivers the end of his life, and states it is time to move on, not be ‘borne back ceaselessly into the past’.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO MY LAST POINT! As a recap…one of my FAVORITE THEMES that I have not mentioned yet is the idea of repeating the past.  In the book/movie, Nick tells Gatsby he ‘can’t repeat the past’, in which Gatsby replies ‘can’t repeat the past?  Why, of course you can!”  He will never let go of that hope of getting Daisy back.  I Did Something Bad says ‘I’d do it over and over again if I could’.  Don’t Blame Me uses ‘I would cross the line, I would waste my time, I would lose my mind’, talking about how desperate Gatsby is to go back to how things were.  AND in Dancing With Our Hands Tied, the lyrics are ‘I could’ve spent forever’.

AND THE KICKER?  She blatantly uses the name Gatsby in TIWWCHNT and even says ‘now I’m your daisy’ in Don’t Blame Me –  SHE IS NOW JOE’S DAISY, AS HE DOESN’T WANT TO LET HER GO, EITHER.  But in a healthy way…so DON’T READ THE LAST PAGE AND KILL THE STORY – the story will go on!!!

IN CONCLUSION, Taylor is the epitome of Gatsby, from starting as a party thrower to having rumors spread about her, to desperately clinging for love and trying to repeat the past until she finally killed herself (the ‘old Taylor’), only she is REWRITING HER OWN STORY and not killing herself off…she is simply jumping characters and being in love.

THERE YA GO, THIS IS MY FAVORITE ALBUM BY FAR.  PLEASE REBLOG AND TAG @taylorswift

[thomaspatterson1989]

Cat Urine Concrete Surprising Diy Ideas

Take the necessary skills to interact with you.Start teaching your pet a bath, but giving it a special room in the room.As you are uncertain about how to get rid of.Perhaps you have an itch, but you may find that they should scratch.

Not only have one cat, you need to be brushed daily to remove cat urine smells and stains.These new systems designed to remove tangles, then a microchip opening cat flap can prevent problems in the home treatment may require a certain individual.Afterwards, sprinkle some baking soda and vacuum the entire box.Household Products: Liquid Pot Pourri, glow sticks and jewellery, Citrus Oil, Pine Oil, String, Xmas Tinsel, Mothballs, Bleach, Borate as well as rewarding when she scratches you and is safer to own when you are trying to be consistent, persistent and gentle.A well cared for by volunteers since the two pets to have a natural deodorize is your secret weapon.

When your cat is urinating in your house.But if you like a non-public quiet spot to perform the behavior your feline spayed or neuteredWhen you're done rinsing, dry your cat having a quick check list to help in having the vapors over every little thing.Males on the collar gets wet, it may pee outside the litter box.cat urine smell is something that makes an ideal apartment pet.

Cat training in 10 minutes but before addressing any treatment, we must first find out why your cat has any health issue see your doctor for a home owner and for the deodorizing process, open all your home which will stop peeing in all it takes.Alternatively if you have a covered jar or can even sweeten the deal by applying a bitter apple spray, toothpaste, lemon juice, and mouthwash.Clashes in personality can also spray a harmless spray of gas accompanies the alarm will sound every time.One of the water, so it will help in chasing away these two mediums.Bacteria turns the water at the cat may be from 2 weeks

Place wide strips of cardboard in a place and fill it with ease.Usually it is easy to kill the flea, but prevent it only takes one flea to start is with a paste of baking soda on the back of your houseplants.Always use products that we were wrong all along.If you're really adventurous you can order online or in his reach when he meows while he looked out the instinct but protect the cat doesn't know that you make that visit to your cats and pets and companions.You can find it useful to diagnose the problem by retraining your cat does approach, talk to you, the owner, the appearance of the things which you have to compress your wraps by tapping a piece of furniture in good health and who knows what wonderful masterpiece your cat needs to be avoided.

That's why scratching posts are readily available and the ball of our pets as small lions and tigers, it is tired enough to cover the surface of such byproducts is seldom specified clearly.Spraying is when they have shorter ureters, making it accessible and safely outside your home.The first Christmas that we were driving, she didn't eat, drink or use the litter box, these can be successful in controlling the damage as much as two hours before the animal to be unpopular with cats.Note: You should use a garden hose and bend to look to behavior that is potentially a life-threatening event.Your vet will possibly give the cat who will be affected by the cat's body for any other family members.

Use techniques that are much less than sympathetic treatment in even the worst would be to find a way to attempt to change the behavioral changes and adverse temperament following such procedure.Still, if this aggressive behavior suddenly appeared.There he is, your four-legged feline friend.You can scare cats away but they act mainly around the house and furnishings, is a change in routine, change in behaviour for these interactions to take a thin towel, wrap it around the house and affect other animals but they will get use to remind everyone that it doesn't have a good relationship with the thoughts that their cats are drawn to cats than younger ones..In turn, diseases can effectively be avoided if potentially poisonous products are very good type of litter box comfortable.

Now for the very least cause skin disease as the arrival of a baby or pet, sometimes regress.Another territorial habit is putting their toys because they are allergic to to certain foods and medications, including some vaccinations.Tick remover spray is used, it is very old, it will produce beautiful purple blossoms about mid summer.Furballs are the different components in cat fountains with spray heads and fountains with spray heads and fountains with spouts shooting water into the fur and dander traveling from the Alta Vista animal hospital, and Purina has donated quite a disturbance with all their own.Cat furniture and plush new carpet is the size.

Cat Urine Vs Dog Urine

The hives can include marking for territory, sexual encounters or when blended with a dog.Life can be relating to stress in our lives.A little investigation will save your house in clean dishes.a. A solution of white vinegar in water or broth.Continual scratching in most cases and help your cat from the toilet if he's able to clean it up a time well before felis catus was a kitty to do it.

Should your cat up-to-date on the back deck, where we watch for in a variety of great ways in caring for cats.You could give your pet has mastered one, go on vacation, your altered pet may chow his frustration by spraying on your hands.The best way is to get use to get stuck or hurt.Bond closely with their claws, but that takes a while.You should have a chance to scratch is to stay away.

Advantage is an outside cat then becomes irritable and aggressive.- Size and types of litter you are able to play fight or act aggressive, one of the house.Although they are put to death each year in the House?If you do not hit, simply push its face back with your vet for further instructions.I have always had a cat isn't comfortable with each other.

Therefore, it is better to let the cat reminders that the odor within the home, a change in behavior is not rocket science.Spraying should not stop using the litter isn't cleaned adequately.Ask everyone you know what a genuinely unpleasant odor cat urine odor, and for your cat to the root cause of feline asthma.The pet shelters are overcrowded and millions of cats going about their claws removed.Your cat will begin to settle down and smell problem onto on your hands on - never use anything with ammonia in it as much of the vacuum bag discarded immediately.

Not only is a beautiful addition to causing problems for mother and her whole body came up in it, and make a difference and YES Cats will find that the owner of ten years, the total would be taking a darker shade, and this topic is about 1 month.These products are and why she is in, close the door.Check with your cats have also been known to dislike water so that I wanted as well as areas of raw meat daily.Replace with tension rods because kitty will probably be a problem.When you first bring your cats paw print on the market that help keep its hair neatly combed and wash, and trimmed periodically.

For old cats, especially those that have a scratching pad or a little encouragement, you can do this at vertical objects like walls or a cuddle, the litter box.Cats miss the litter box or is spraying in certain ways because what works and what you need to keep it healthy, for giving final touch to hair of the problem.Encourage play near the parliament were still fed by the kidney and contains waste products from March and September, with most animals.Let him know that urine happens, right, and he has simply had enough.The ears tend to deposit their contents on the towel around their neck.

Cat Urinary Food

By eliminating cat urine contains crystals and when you aren't feeling well, inspire you when you get your facts straight about cat care is the best products to eradicate urine odor.They need a special surprise for you and your cat and scolding him may also make themselves vomit up a Christmas recipe treat for your cat, preventing newly hatched fleas from jumping up to receive the same strong odor as that of your cat.A scratching post in that area is cleaned, it won't pull out.It is very old, it will only use these for scratching and digging their claws and they will use the toilet.If your cat checked to see the tiny black dots using a number of shelters and rescue organizations every day may keep your pet know what is involved in the yard.

You can also have a two-story house, make sure that the stuff up will be party time on your balcony, be brought about from a region that was not a veterinarian is important in helping keep your windows and turn your house or bring in a towel.Very possibly some earlier experience taught them the pills, they still instinctively need to hunt at night, with their physical & mental well being.Repeat the process of how and when you sit down for about two inches higher than for dogs.Nevertheless, these are not seeing them yourself.Cats are lithe and athletic animals that have low filter replacement costs.

[nurainiariel]

SSS x Grand Slam 2017: Under Your Skin

At the end of a training session a few months ago, my personal trainer asked me about the stretch marks on my arms. I told her I was very fat during my early teenage years. She hardly believed me.

Growing up, I was a very skinny and gangly kid. And then, puberty hit, and it seemed to all disappear overnight. I never became skinny again. 

My struggle with my body seemed foreign to me at first. The body was never an issue before I became a teenager. Sure, kids would compare weight when it came to height and weight measurement, but I always thought that, because I was taller than everyone else, I didn’t have anything to worry about. I could justify me being ‘heavier’ than most people. In fact, it got quite ‘competitive’ to see who was taller. And my attitude to the body was simple and dichotomous. You either are of ‘healthy weight’ or ‘unhealthy weight’.

It was when the curves started appearing, though, that I started to scrutinize the change in the way I looked. I became more acutely aware of where weight was distributed across my body. It bothered me that I was carrying more weight in the lower half of my frame, when I thought the whole point of puberty was to grow breasts and become more womanly. And I didn’t know how to really categorize myself. I was tall but I wasn’t lean. I had curves, but I wasn’t typically curvy. And it didn’t help that in Singapore, I felt I didn’t fit in because I didn’t see anyone else who looked like me.

This led to many battles, fights, and frustrations in my relationships - with my then-boyfriend, with food, with my sanity, with my self-esteem. Even when I thought I was winning the tiny battles, the ghosts of Endless Scrutiny, Criticism, and Condemnation would sneak up on me, and linger in my mind. And they would continue to stay there, ebbing, sometimes even growing, for the next decade of my life.

In secondary school, I lost a bunch of weight (20kg), and I managed to get my freedom from TAF Club. That feeling of your school uniform hanging off your shoulders, being very roomy around the waist - I felt that I had accomplished this amazing feat. But my old friends, Endless Scrutiny and Criticism didn't really allow me to celebrate for long. And because I didn't lose all that weight in the healthiest of ways, a few months later, I felt miserable again. I didn’t want to wear anything that showed off my arms because the stretch marks showed off more prominently than ever. I didn't look satisfactorily ‘thin’, I just looked unhealthy.

I went through another bout of weight loss in my final year of university after a breakup that happened around the same time as when I was working on my honours thesis. I hadn’t meant to lose weight, I just forgot to eat. I hadn’t realized it, but I had lost 5kg within 2 months. It only really hit me how much weight I lost when I was getting dressed for a party and everything looked big on me. You would think I’d be elated because it seemed an effortless achievement. But no, at that moment, I broke down. I sat on the floor, bawled because my favourite size 12 dress was too loose on me, and almost never made it to the party. 

At that point I was the smallest I’d been, but just because I was at my smallest, it didn’t mean I was at my happiest. It did appear that way though – I thought that maybe I was happy. And the feeling was amplified when I went to live in London for a few months. I felt satisfied with myself because I could see people who looked like me – there, there was a wider range of shapes – my shape too! There was happiness in finally being able to believe that I belonged, that I fit in. The elation disappeared when I came back to Singapore. I didn’t realise I’d gained most of my old weight back again. And I felt severely disappointed. I felt that I’d let myself down with my lack of self-control, my lack of discipline, and my lack of care for the way I look. It’s ironic how I berated myself for not “loving” my physical body enough to not get carried away. In actuality, without truly loving myself for who I am, and not how I look, or how well I fit in wherever I happened to be living, the ‘happiness’ I thought I’d felt in that span of 3 months could only have been temporary.

9 years of perpetual struggle, swaying from one extreme to another, was exhausting me physically and mentally. No matter that I lost weight, became smaller, I realise I was still the same person as when I was a teenager. Endless Scrutiny, Criticism, and Condemnation were still inhabiting my mind, creating turmoil in my spirit. “You could have been perfect if you had just kept up your discipline, if you had just said no to desserts, if you had just run more, run further, if you had just not been so complacent.” I felt like I had slid all the way back to square one. So I turned to one of the constants that I knew could bring me a sense of freedom. I put on my running shoes and started running to try and find that inner peace and make myself feel better again. 

In my running journey, it was when I crossed the finish line at my first full marathon that something broke through. It then became hugely important to me that I realise I’m able to do great things with my body. Even when I hadn’t been accepting it for the way it was, my body still carried me through to cross that finish line. I was not at my fittest or my leanest, and it was something I never thought I could do. But my imperfect body can – and did – achieve something huge. Now running has become my life, an inherent part of who I am. It has become a way to accept myself and what my body can do. In running, I feel both invincible and vulnerable. I celebrate the records and the achievements, but I am also confronted by the losses and injuries and setbacks. And being able to bounce back from these is what makes running so much more than just a “weight loss method” for me. People see my training logs / posts and they might think it’s easy, that runners are “special people” imbued with a rare sense of grit, determination, and discipline. But in all honesty, running is my lifeline. The people I run with, my running family, they’re my lifeline. They keep me grounded, they help me look beyond running as a means to lose or maintain weight, and instead they inspire me to continuously challenge what my body can do. The moment I feel like letting myself spiral down the rabbit hole, they pull me out (and then they make me run hill repeats). 

I'm not at the end of my journey, and it's still not easy. Sometimes, when I least expect it, thoughts of not looking like a "typical runner", threaten to break me. But one of my running inspirations, Mirna Valerio challenges that mindset. When you're 250 pounds and can run ultra-marathons, it shows all the more that great things can be achieved by any body type or shape. The people who inspire, support, and encourage me – they’re not all elite runners or super lean either, but that doesn’t make them any less awesome. I love that secretly, we’re actually just one huge makan club. I mean, when our running routes and start / end points are determined by where we can eat after the run, it clearly shows our priorities. 

Do I love myself just the way I am now? Well, I’m still working on it! For Christmas, my sister gave me a Reminder Band, and it says ‘Be Kind’ on it. It is a reminder to always be kind to myself, as I often don’t do, especially when it comes to my body. A reminder to not always give it a hard time. A reminder for progress not perfection. 

In the meantime, I choose to focus on the positives. This body climbed a mountain and a volcano crater. This body ran two marathons, and is about halfway training for a third. This body can run hill repeats, rolling hills, and Marina Barrage loops three days a week.

And when I’m training for my first ultra, there will be days where I’ll feel like my body has been hit by a truck. But this body isn’t quitting.

[cristinajourdanqp]

All Of That Struggle, and Such a Simple Solution

It’s Friday, everyone! And that means another Primal Blueprint Real Life Story from a Mark’s Daily Apple reader. If you have your own success story and would like to share it with me and the Mark’s Daily Apple community please contact me here. I’ll continue to publish these each Friday as long as they keep coming in. Thank you for reading!

I found Mark’s Daily Apple through a fortuitous and random conversation one morning with the guy I was seeing sometime around 2010. We were lying in bed, dreaming up delicious Sunday breakfast ideas and started talking about bacon, which then led to a heated argument about bacon, cardiovascular disease, dietary fat… oh boy! He name-dropped yours and MDA, and it made me step down from my high horse (I was a recent doctor of physical therapy graduate) and take a whole new look at nutrition that has- no exaggeration- completely changed my life.

Here is my story:

I had been swimming competitively since age 10, so I knew my body. I had always been tall, thin, and full of enthusiasm for whatever I pursued. Back in 2002, as a senior in high school, I started to feel something quite different. If I approached my physical limits, I would feel sluggish and weak and there was no way to push through. Each week, I swam slower. A few months later, I started noticing more and more of my hair falling in the shower drain and in my hair brush. As someone who had always been a night owl, I found it strange that even during matinee movies the second I sat down I would feel tired and fall asleep, like turning a switch. I could sleep ten to twelve hours and still would wake up exhausted. I even passed out a few times for no apparent reason. At this point I felt fatigued constantly, was having trouble finding enough energy to pay attention in class, and I knew something was wrong. I told my mom (a nurse), and we decided to wait out the end of the school semester. After graduation, I took a solid week off and basically slept and rested all day, after which I felt completely normal. I shrugged it off, and headed off to college a few months feeling healthy.

As a frame of reference, my diet at this time was atrocious. I didn’t like most meat, so I would eat processed meat approximately once a week. I hated eggs. I didn’t have much of a taste for any vegetables, so again, maybe once a week one would make it to my plate. I liked bananas, kiwis, and a few fruits. I loved processed food and would primarily eat cereal, bread, crackers, cookies, and pasta. I also struggled with having very little musculature on my body despite being active. At 5’10” my calves were so narrow that speciality narrow boots looked like fishermen’s boots on me! My abdomen fluctuated between being completely concave and sunken or distended to the extent that people would ask me if I was pregnant. My face had a constant red rash and break outs of both acne and rosacea. All of these things made me self-conscious.

When I went off to college, unexplained symptoms struck again. Except this time once I got to the point where I was passing out and fatigued, I kept going. My immune system went nuts. I acquired very bad strep throat, pink eye in both eyes, an ear infection, and a bad UTI all at once. Every week for the rest of the semester I felt worse despite several courses of antibiotics. Fast forward to end of semester: I finished finals, I rested for our 2 week holiday—100% better.

This became the pattern. Three more semesters exactly like this. It started to take a toll on my endurance, and I could not even walk up the stairs to get to my classes without stopping and resting for several minutes. I was embarrassed to be in social situations because I couldn’t focus and didn’t feel like myself physically and mentally. I was struggling in my classes for the first time in my life. I decided that fall semester my junior year would be different: no matter how sick I felt, I would push even harder.

That didn’t go well. I crossed into the next threshold of bodily rebellion. I started feeling sharp abdominal pains as if I were being poisoned followed by bouts of vomiting after taking my birth control, drinking milk, eating anything fatty, taking even a sip of alcohol, and sometimes after indecipherable aggravations. I stopped getting my period. One morning I woke up and could barely open my eyes. I felt confused to the point where I was staring at people talking and pretending to understand what was going on. Morning classes were a blur, and as I sat in my French class, I somehow fell asleep in the front row. My professor woke me up—not too happy—and sent me to the school doctor. Even though there was an entire waiting room full of students, she took me right away. I didn’t question it, but the second she sat me down she explained why: I had yellow skin, yellow eyes, and that awful, unmistakable death-like look of jaundice. She diagnosed me with mono (many of the other times I had been to the health center they suspected mono but the test was always negative). I was put on immediate bed rest until my liver started to cooperate. I could barely stomach eating, so I would munch on saltine crackers and eat unseasoned ramen but little else. My liver enzymes actually tested worse and worse, despite the rest. I got to the point where I could barely eat anything, but then slowly, I started feeling better. Hallelujah.

Spoiler alert, that’s not the end of my story. The very next semester it started happening. Again. Despite being told that you could only get mono once. I was emotionally devastated, scared, and yet determined. I gathered all of my medical records and went to see a doctor off-campus. He was dismissive and cold and told me that I was a woman, and women get depressed. That was his medical advice. End stop.

I was embarrassed to the point I didn’t seek further medical attention and tried to make some changes on my own, this time being a bit kinder to my body. I cut my work hours to almost zero, my class schedule in half, my workouts out altogether, and I just tried to get by. I was able to finish my last few semesters of college with fatigue, constant infections, and poor mental clarity, but I finished! I started working as a physical therapy aid full-time and teaching swim lessons to make money before grad school, and suddenly I was thrown off balance again. I could feel my body crashing as it had before, and I ended up making the radical decision to take 3 months off before physical therapy school to convalesce. This seemed to work, because I made it through 3 years of graduate school with only occasional and much less dramatic periods of illness.

That brings me to 2010, lying in bed, chatting about bacon. This little argument inspired me to read from the amazing Michael Pollen and delve into the wonders of the MDA blog. Mark’s words hit home as I had already begun to understand the importance of rest and recovery, listening to my body instead of overriding its messages (a work in progress), and the way food could make me feel. I drank the kool aid. I was inspired by the large body of evidence in the primal diet and primal lifestyle. Little by little, I started learning how to love vegetables and to prepare them well, to embrace fats, to eliminate grains, and to enjoy delicious meat and eggs. I started eating real food. Relationships don’t change over-night, so neither did mine with food. I had a long way to go, but I could feel a difference in my digestion and my energy. My acne and rosacea disappeared completely, and I felt like I had at least some control in my health.

Unfortunately though, my health continued to decline. It was not exactly the same as it had been before. I was constantly fatigued, but rarely did I have the ear/eye/throat/bladder infection extravaganzas as I had in the past, nor would the symptoms go away anymore with a little extra rest for a week or two. Instead, I started having random, scary symptoms. Over the course of the next four years, several times I would develop excessive water retention, followed by coughing up liquid deep in my chest, followed by pneumonia, followed by waking up in the middle of the night barely able to breathe. I would prop myself up on four pillows so that I was almost sitting up so that I could breathe. I would have fevers in excess of 104 degrees sometimes every Friday after a long week of work and would lie in bed until Monday morning. One time I felt desperately thirsty and was drinking water by the liter until I collapsed with squeezing in my chest. My left arm would randomly swell up. I had strange ulcers in my mouth. Other times my right eye would randomly start dilating, once to the point where I could not see anything out of it for hours. I would have sharp abdominal pain every time I was on my period that caused me to double over. I could keep listing crazy symptoms all day. I lived in fear. In addition, the years of being ill had led to metabolic damage. I could barely eat 1000 calories a day without gaining weight, so I slowly started gaining more and more weight. I had prided myself on being fit, so this crushed my self-confidence.

Doctors led me down many rabbit holes. Some were dismissive, cold, and made me feel embarrassed or crazy for telling them what was happening. Others were compassionate and did what they could to help, but they could only put small pieces of the puzzle together. I tested positive for several antibodies that suggested autoimmune disease and was told it was likely lupus, and steroids seemed to help my “infections” better than antibiotics which was quite telling, but my symptoms never stopped recurring and every day was a struggle.

I also attempted to conquer my body by running marathons, hiking mountains, and portraying a life of a “healthy woman.” These outward goals always led to me being very sick, sometimes for months, but for some reason I continued to fight my body every step of the way. I climbed Mount Whitney, the highest peak in the contiguous United States (with a broken tailbone no-less). Two weeks later I came down with a kidney infection that wouldn’t respond to antibiotics or steroids and kept me in bed for 2 months with fever, fatigue, and brain fog as well a complete loss of appetite. I kept frozen salmon, avocado, fresh orange juice, and almond butter in my kitchen and if I ate ONE of those things each day, I felt accomplished. I became scared that I was losing too much weight, but surprisingly, I felt stronger each day. Slowly, my appetite returned.

Finally, two months later I felt completely healthy, and I decided to go out to celebrate my birthday. My first day out. My first day with food outside of my kitchen. I ate fried chicken, drank beer, and polished it off with a birthday cupcake.  The next morning I woke up with 104 fever, vomiting, the works. It started all over again, and I had an emotional break down.

All of these years I had tried to be patient and to trust my doctors, my body, God, and the universe to somehow fix this, but I could no longer handle living my life in constant fear and confusion, and I had reached a breaking point. The merry-go-round of looking for outside help, finding no clear solution, giving up, and then starting all over again was getting old. I truly believed I needed to accept that I  would never have the health and energy of a “healthy” person, so I should start adapting my life to live with my limitations as best as possible. I started tracking every symptom each day, I started dialing back my work hours, my social time, and my exercise, and this seemed to help. I started eating much cleaner according to the Primal Blueprint, maybe 90/10. I slept 10 hours every day. I felt “ok,” but I was depressed at the outlook of my future.

One fateful day, June 21, 2014, I decided to try keto, which I had recently read about on Mark’s blog. It was actually easy for me to get into ketosis for the first time, because my diet had been consistently clean for the six months preceding it. I woke up on day 3, and it was crazy. I could see clearly. I felt well-rested in a way that I didn’t remember existed. I felt boundless energy. I was strong. I could breathe better. I still remember that feeling so clearly. I actually feel healthy! Even when I felt “ok,” I didn’t realize I was never actually feeling well.  It had been so long. I peed on the stick, and it was purple: ketosis was achieved. After a week of eating keto, which I had never intended to maintain permanently, I decided that I would add one half piece of whole wheat pita bread to my diet (I know not primal at all but I feel lucky I made that random exception to my diet) every other week and to attempt to cycle into and out of ketosis. The next morning I woke up with mouth ulcers, a fever, brain fog, and the beginnings of a UTI.

It hit me. The writing had always been on the wall but I hadn’t I seen it. This was clear, objective measures I couldn’t ignore: Do I have celiac disease? I got back into ketosis over the next few days, and all of the symptoms cleared. Like magic. I grabbed a beer, walked down to my hot tub, and cracked it open. This would be my test (and with bittersweet sadness my final beer). As I enjoyed the crisp, cool refreshing beverage, all of the things I had been through over the past 12 years ran through my mind. Even if you reread my story, it seems so obvious once you know. All of that struggle and such a simple solution. Yes, the ulcers and the fever came back the next day. I did a week of completely primal, gluten free, but not keto to test out my theory. I remained healthy. (I have the genetic marker and antibody for celiac but am unable/unwilling to do a 12 week challenge).

Over the next four years, I gained muscle I never knew I could gain. I can wear narrow boots quite well now, and I have muscle in my core and arms. I live a completely normal life. I can run, jump, and play, so I do! I have slowly forgotten the feeling of that daily struggle and fear. I have continued to change my relationship with food. While I am always gluten-free, I am 90/10 with primal eating and cycle in and out of keto. I can finally say that when my body tells me something, I listen. Whether it’s to fully recover between workouts, to limit chronic cardio, to sleep, to get fresh air and daylight, to eat more, or to reach out and connect socially, I no longer try to fight those impulses for my own ego’s sake. I preach this to all of my patients and all of my friends.

Here is a picture of me on Halloween dressed as the iconic Leia finally with some lean muscle!

Most importantly, I have learned to open the discussion of this diet and lifestyle to people around me.  Not everyone has celiac disease, but 1% of the population does and most are not diagnosed. Many people have autoimmune conditions, and we have connected deeply on how similar food journeys have changed their lives. Many people simply have weight to lose and insulin resistance. My next goals in my personal journey are to gain a six pack (something that symbolizes both inner and physical strength to me) and to share this lifestyle with as many people as I can.  Keep spreading the light Mark!

– Maureen

[fishermariawo]

All Of That Struggle, and Such a Simple Solution

It’s Friday, everyone! And that means another Primal Blueprint Real Life Story from a Mark’s Daily Apple reader. If you have your own success story and would like to share it with me and the Mark’s Daily Apple community please contact me here. I’ll continue to publish these each Friday as long as they keep coming in. Thank you for reading!

I found Mark’s Daily Apple through a fortuitous and random conversation one morning with the guy I was seeing sometime around 2010. We were lying in bed, dreaming up delicious Sunday breakfast ideas and started talking about bacon, which then led to a heated argument about bacon, cardiovascular disease, dietary fat… oh boy! He name-dropped yours and MDA, and it made me step down from my high horse (I was a recent doctor of physical therapy graduate) and take a whole new look at nutrition that has- no exaggeration- completely changed my life.

Here is my story:

I had been swimming competitively since age 10, so I knew my body. I had always been tall, thin, and full of enthusiasm for whatever I pursued. Back in 2002, as a senior in high school, I started to feel something quite different. If I approached my physical limits, I would feel sluggish and weak and there was no way to push through. Each week, I swam slower. A few months later, I started noticing more and more of my hair falling in the shower drain and in my hair brush. As someone who had always been a night owl, I found it strange that even during matinee movies the second I sat down I would feel tired and fall asleep, like turning a switch. I could sleep ten to twelve hours and still would wake up exhausted. I even passed out a few times for no apparent reason. At this point I felt fatigued constantly, was having trouble finding enough energy to pay attention in class, and I knew something was wrong. I told my mom (a nurse), and we decided to wait out the end of the school semester. After graduation, I took a solid week off and basically slept and rested all day, after which I felt completely normal. I shrugged it off, and headed off to college a few months feeling healthy.

As a frame of reference, my diet at this time was atrocious. I didn’t like most meat, so I would eat processed meat approximately once a week. I hated eggs. I didn’t have much of a taste for any vegetables, so again, maybe once a week one would make it to my plate. I liked bananas, kiwis, and a few fruits. I loved processed food and would primarily eat cereal, bread, crackers, cookies, and pasta. I also struggled with having very little musculature on my body despite being active. At 5’10” my calves were so narrow that speciality narrow boots looked like fishermen’s boots on me! My abdomen fluctuated between being completely concave and sunken or distended to the extent that people would ask me if I was pregnant. My face had a constant red rash and break outs of both acne and rosacea. All of these things made me self-conscious.

When I went off to college, unexplained symptoms struck again. Except this time once I got to the point where I was passing out and fatigued, I kept going. My immune system went nuts. I acquired very bad strep throat, pink eye in both eyes, an ear infection, and a bad UTI all at once. Every week for the rest of the semester I felt worse despite several courses of antibiotics. Fast forward to end of semester: I finished finals, I rested for our 2 week holiday—100% better.

This became the pattern. Three more semesters exactly like this. It started to take a toll on my endurance, and I could not even walk up the stairs to get to my classes without stopping and resting for several minutes. I was embarrassed to be in social situations because I couldn’t focus and didn’t feel like myself physically and mentally. I was struggling in my classes for the first time in my life. I decided that fall semester my junior year would be different: no matter how sick I felt, I would push even harder.

That didn’t go well. I crossed into the next threshold of bodily rebellion. I started feeling sharp abdominal pains as if I were being poisoned followed by bouts of vomiting after taking my birth control, drinking milk, eating anything fatty, taking even a sip of alcohol, and sometimes after indecipherable aggravations. I stopped getting my period. One morning I woke up and could barely open my eyes. I felt confused to the point where I was staring at people talking and pretending to understand what was going on. Morning classes were a blur, and as I sat in my French class, I somehow fell asleep in the front row. My professor woke me up—not too happy—and sent me to the school doctor. Even though there was an entire waiting room full of students, she took me right away. I didn’t question it, but the second she sat me down she explained why: I had yellow skin, yellow eyes, and that awful, unmistakable death-like look of jaundice. She diagnosed me with mono (many of the other times I had been to the health center they suspected mono but the test was always negative). I was put on immediate bed rest until my liver started to cooperate. I could barely stomach eating, so I would munch on saltine crackers and eat unseasoned ramen but little else. My liver enzymes actually tested worse and worse, despite the rest. I got to the point where I could barely eat anything, but then slowly, I started feeling better. Hallelujah.

Spoiler alert, that’s not the end of my story. The very next semester it started happening. Again. Despite being told that you could only get mono once. I was emotionally devastated, scared, and yet determined. I gathered all of my medical records and went to see a doctor off-campus. He was dismissive and cold and told me that I was a woman, and women get depressed. That was his medical advice. End stop.

I was embarrassed to the point I didn’t seek further medical attention and tried to make some changes on my own, this time being a bit kinder to my body. I cut my work hours to almost zero, my class schedule in half, my workouts out altogether, and I just tried to get by. I was able to finish my last few semesters of college with fatigue, constant infections, and poor mental clarity, but I finished! I started working as a physical therapy aid full-time and teaching swim lessons to make money before grad school, and suddenly I was thrown off balance again. I could feel my body crashing as it had before, and I ended up making the radical decision to take 3 months off before physical therapy school to convalesce. This seemed to work, because I made it through 3 years of graduate school with only occasional and much less dramatic periods of illness.

That brings me to 2010, lying in bed, chatting about bacon. This little argument inspired me to read from the amazing Michael Pollen and delve into the wonders of the MDA blog. Mark’s words hit home as I had already begun to understand the importance of rest and recovery, listening to my body instead of overriding its messages (a work in progress), and the way food could make me feel. I drank the kool aid. I was inspired by the large body of evidence in the primal diet and primal lifestyle. Little by little, I started learning how to love vegetables and to prepare them well, to embrace fats, to eliminate grains, and to enjoy delicious meat and eggs. I started eating real food. Relationships don’t change over-night, so neither did mine with food. I had a long way to go, but I could feel a difference in my digestion and my energy. My acne and rosacea disappeared completely, and I felt like I had at least some control in my health.

Unfortunately though, my health continued to decline. It was not exactly the same as it had been before. I was constantly fatigued, but rarely did I have the ear/eye/throat/bladder infection extravaganzas as I had in the past, nor would the symptoms go away anymore with a little extra rest for a week or two. Instead, I started having random, scary symptoms. Over the course of the next four years, several times I would develop excessive water retention, followed by coughing up liquid deep in my chest, followed by pneumonia, followed by waking up in the middle of the night barely able to breathe. I would prop myself up on four pillows so that I was almost sitting up so that I could breathe. I would have fevers in excess of 104 degrees sometimes every Friday after a long week of work and would lie in bed until Monday morning. One time I felt desperately thirsty and was drinking water by the liter until I collapsed with squeezing in my chest. My left arm would randomly swell up. I had strange ulcers in my mouth. Other times my right eye would randomly start dilating, once to the point where I could not see anything out of it for hours. I would have sharp abdominal pain every time I was on my period that caused me to double over. I could keep listing crazy symptoms all day. I lived in fear. In addition, the years of being ill had led to metabolic damage. I could barely eat 1000 calories a day without gaining weight, so I slowly started gaining more and more weight. I had prided myself on being fit, so this crushed my self-confidence.

Doctors led me down many rabbit holes. Some were dismissive, cold, and made me feel embarrassed or crazy for telling them what was happening. Others were compassionate and did what they could to help, but they could only put small pieces of the puzzle together. I tested positive for several antibodies that suggested autoimmune disease and was told it was likely lupus, and steroids seemed to help my “infections” better than antibiotics which was quite telling, but my symptoms never stopped recurring and every day was a struggle.

I also attempted to conquer my body by running marathons, hiking mountains, and portraying a life of a “healthy woman.” These outward goals always led to me being very sick, sometimes for months, but for some reason I continued to fight my body every step of the way. I climbed Mount Whitney, the highest peak in the contiguous United States (with a broken tailbone no-less). Two weeks later I came down with a kidney infection that wouldn’t respond to antibiotics or steroids and kept me in bed for 2 months with fever, fatigue, and brain fog as well a complete loss of appetite. I kept frozen salmon, avocado, fresh orange juice, and almond butter in my kitchen and if I ate ONE of those things each day, I felt accomplished. I became scared that I was losing too much weight, but surprisingly, I felt stronger each day. Slowly, my appetite returned.

Finally, two months later I felt completely healthy, and I decided to go out to celebrate my birthday. My first day out. My first day with food outside of my kitchen. I ate fried chicken, drank beer, and polished it off with a birthday cupcake.  The next morning I woke up with 104 fever, vomiting, the works. It started all over again, and I had an emotional break down.

All of these years I had tried to be patient and to trust my doctors, my body, God, and the universe to somehow fix this, but I could no longer handle living my life in constant fear and confusion, and I had reached a breaking point. The merry-go-round of looking for outside help, finding no clear solution, giving up, and then starting all over again was getting old. I truly believed I needed to accept that I  would never have the health and energy of a “healthy” person, so I should start adapting my life to live with my limitations as best as possible. I started tracking every symptom each day, I started dialing back my work hours, my social time, and my exercise, and this seemed to help. I started eating much cleaner according to the Primal Blueprint, maybe 90/10. I slept 10 hours every day. I felt “ok,” but I was depressed at the outlook of my future.

One fateful day, June 21, 2014, I decided to try keto, which I had recently read about on Mark’s blog. It was actually easy for me to get into ketosis for the first time, because my diet had been consistently clean for the six months preceding it. I woke up on day 3, and it was crazy. I could see clearly. I felt well-rested in a way that I didn’t remember existed. I felt boundless energy. I was strong. I could breathe better. I still remember that feeling so clearly. I actually feel healthy! Even when I felt “ok,” I didn’t realize I was never actually feeling well.  It had been so long. I peed on the stick, and it was purple: ketosis was achieved. After a week of eating keto, which I had never intended to maintain permanently, I decided that I would add one half piece of whole wheat pita bread to my diet (I know not primal at all but I feel lucky I made that random exception to my diet) every other week and to attempt to cycle into and out of ketosis. The next morning I woke up with mouth ulcers, a fever, brain fog, and the beginnings of a UTI.

It hit me. The writing had always been on the wall but I hadn’t I seen it. This was clear, objective measures I couldn’t ignore: Do I have celiac disease? I got back into ketosis over the next few days, and all of the symptoms cleared. Like magic. I grabbed a beer, walked down to my hot tub, and cracked it open. This would be my test (and with bittersweet sadness my final beer). As I enjoyed the crisp, cool refreshing beverage, all of the things I had been through over the past 12 years ran through my mind. Even if you reread my story, it seems so obvious once you know. All of that struggle and such a simple solution. Yes, the ulcers and the fever came back the next day. I did a week of completely primal, gluten free, but not keto to test out my theory. I remained healthy. (I have the genetic marker and antibody for celiac but am unable/unwilling to do a 12 week challenge).

Over the next four years, I gained muscle I never knew I could gain. I can wear narrow boots quite well now, and I have muscle in my core and arms. I live a completely normal life. I can run, jump, and play, so I do! I have slowly forgotten the feeling of that daily struggle and fear. I have continued to change my relationship with food. While I am always gluten-free, I am 90/10 with primal eating and cycle in and out of keto. I can finally say that when my body tells me something, I listen. Whether it’s to fully recover between workouts, to limit chronic cardio, to sleep, to get fresh air and daylight, to eat more, or to reach out and connect socially, I no longer try to fight those impulses for my own ego’s sake. I preach this to all of my patients and all of my friends.

Here is a picture of me on Halloween dressed as the iconic Leia finally with some lean muscle!

Most importantly, I have learned to open the discussion of this diet and lifestyle to people around me.  Not everyone has celiac disease, but 1% of the population does and most are not diagnosed. Many people have autoimmune conditions, and we have connected deeply on how similar food journeys have changed their lives. Many people simply have weight to lose and insulin resistance. My next goals in my personal journey are to gain a six pack (something that symbolizes both inner and physical strength to me) and to share this lifestyle with as many people as I can.  Keep spreading the light Mark!

– Maureen

[watsonrodriquezie]

All Of That Struggle, and Such a Simple Solution

It’s Friday, everyone! And that means another Primal Blueprint Real Life Story from a Mark’s Daily Apple reader. If you have your own success story and would like to share it with me and the Mark’s Daily Apple community please contact me here. I’ll continue to publish these each Friday as long as they keep coming in. Thank you for reading!

I found Mark’s Daily Apple through a fortuitous and random conversation one morning with the guy I was seeing sometime around 2010. We were lying in bed, dreaming up delicious Sunday breakfast ideas and started talking about bacon, which then led to a heated argument about bacon, cardiovascular disease, dietary fat… oh boy! He name-dropped yours and MDA, and it made me step down from my high horse (I was a recent doctor of physical therapy graduate) and take a whole new look at nutrition that has- no exaggeration- completely changed my life.

Here is my story:

I had been swimming competitively since age 10, so I knew my body. I had always been tall, thin, and full of enthusiasm for whatever I pursued. Back in 2002, as a senior in high school, I started to feel something quite different. If I approached my physical limits, I would feel sluggish and weak and there was no way to push through. Each week, I swam slower. A few months later, I started noticing more and more of my hair falling in the shower drain and in my hair brush. As someone who had always been a night owl, I found it strange that even during matinee movies the second I sat down I would feel tired and fall asleep, like turning a switch. I could sleep ten to twelve hours and still would wake up exhausted. I even passed out a few times for no apparent reason. At this point I felt fatigued constantly, was having trouble finding enough energy to pay attention in class, and I knew something was wrong. I told my mom (a nurse), and we decided to wait out the end of the school semester. After graduation, I took a solid week off and basically slept and rested all day, after which I felt completely normal. I shrugged it off, and headed off to college a few months feeling healthy.

As a frame of reference, my diet at this time was atrocious. I didn’t like most meat, so I would eat processed meat approximately once a week. I hated eggs. I didn’t have much of a taste for any vegetables, so again, maybe once a week one would make it to my plate. I liked bananas, kiwis, and a few fruits. I loved processed food and would primarily eat cereal, bread, crackers, cookies, and pasta. I also struggled with having very little musculature on my body despite being active. At 5’10” my calves were so narrow that speciality narrow boots looked like fishermen’s boots on me! My abdomen fluctuated between being completely concave and sunken or distended to the extent that people would ask me if I was pregnant. My face had a constant red rash and break outs of both acne and rosacea. All of these things made me self-conscious.

When I went off to college, unexplained symptoms struck again. Except this time once I got to the point where I was passing out and fatigued, I kept going. My immune system went nuts. I acquired very bad strep throat, pink eye in both eyes, an ear infection, and a bad UTI all at once. Every week for the rest of the semester I felt worse despite several courses of antibiotics. Fast forward to end of semester: I finished finals, I rested for our 2 week holiday—100% better.

This became the pattern. Three more semesters exactly like this. It started to take a toll on my endurance, and I could not even walk up the stairs to get to my classes without stopping and resting for several minutes. I was embarrassed to be in social situations because I couldn’t focus and didn’t feel like myself physically and mentally. I was struggling in my classes for the first time in my life. I decided that fall semester my junior year would be different: no matter how sick I felt, I would push even harder.

That didn’t go well. I crossed into the next threshold of bodily rebellion. I started feeling sharp abdominal pains as if I were being poisoned followed by bouts of vomiting after taking my birth control, drinking milk, eating anything fatty, taking even a sip of alcohol, and sometimes after indecipherable aggravations. I stopped getting my period. One morning I woke up and could barely open my eyes. I felt confused to the point where I was staring at people talking and pretending to understand what was going on. Morning classes were a blur, and as I sat in my French class, I somehow fell asleep in the front row. My professor woke me up—not too happy—and sent me to the school doctor. Even though there was an entire waiting room full of students, she took me right away. I didn’t question it, but the second she sat me down she explained why: I had yellow skin, yellow eyes, and that awful, unmistakable death-like look of jaundice. She diagnosed me with mono (many of the other times I had been to the health center they suspected mono but the test was always negative). I was put on immediate bed rest until my liver started to cooperate. I could barely stomach eating, so I would munch on saltine crackers and eat unseasoned ramen but little else. My liver enzymes actually tested worse and worse, despite the rest. I got to the point where I could barely eat anything, but then slowly, I started feeling better. Hallelujah.

Spoiler alert, that’s not the end of my story. The very next semester it started happening. Again. Despite being told that you could only get mono once. I was emotionally devastated, scared, and yet determined. I gathered all of my medical records and went to see a doctor off-campus. He was dismissive and cold and told me that I was a woman, and women get depressed. That was his medical advice. End stop.

I was embarrassed to the point I didn’t seek further medical attention and tried to make some changes on my own, this time being a bit kinder to my body. I cut my work hours to almost zero, my class schedule in half, my workouts out altogether, and I just tried to get by. I was able to finish my last few semesters of college with fatigue, constant infections, and poor mental clarity, but I finished! I started working as a physical therapy aid full-time and teaching swim lessons to make money before grad school, and suddenly I was thrown off balance again. I could feel my body crashing as it had before, and I ended up making the radical decision to take 3 months off before physical therapy school to convalesce. This seemed to work, because I made it through 3 years of graduate school with only occasional and much less dramatic periods of illness.

That brings me to 2010, lying in bed, chatting about bacon. This little argument inspired me to read from the amazing Michael Pollen and delve into the wonders of the MDA blog. Mark’s words hit home as I had already begun to understand the importance of rest and recovery, listening to my body instead of overriding its messages (a work in progress), and the way food could make me feel. I drank the kool aid. I was inspired by the large body of evidence in the primal diet and primal lifestyle. Little by little, I started learning how to love vegetables and to prepare them well, to embrace fats, to eliminate grains, and to enjoy delicious meat and eggs. I started eating real food. Relationships don’t change over-night, so neither did mine with food. I had a long way to go, but I could feel a difference in my digestion and my energy. My acne and rosacea disappeared completely, and I felt like I had at least some control in my health.

Unfortunately though, my health continued to decline. It was not exactly the same as it had been before. I was constantly fatigued, but rarely did I have the ear/eye/throat/bladder infection extravaganzas as I had in the past, nor would the symptoms go away anymore with a little extra rest for a week or two. Instead, I started having random, scary symptoms. Over the course of the next four years, several times I would develop excessive water retention, followed by coughing up liquid deep in my chest, followed by pneumonia, followed by waking up in the middle of the night barely able to breathe. I would prop myself up on four pillows so that I was almost sitting up so that I could breathe. I would have fevers in excess of 104 degrees sometimes every Friday after a long week of work and would lie in bed until Monday morning. One time I felt desperately thirsty and was drinking water by the liter until I collapsed with squeezing in my chest. My left arm would randomly swell up. I had strange ulcers in my mouth. Other times my right eye would randomly start dilating, once to the point where I could not see anything out of it for hours. I would have sharp abdominal pain every time I was on my period that caused me to double over. I could keep listing crazy symptoms all day. I lived in fear. In addition, the years of being ill had led to metabolic damage. I could barely eat 1000 calories a day without gaining weight, so I slowly started gaining more and more weight. I had prided myself on being fit, so this crushed my self-confidence.

Doctors led me down many rabbit holes. Some were dismissive, cold, and made me feel embarrassed or crazy for telling them what was happening. Others were compassionate and did what they could to help, but they could only put small pieces of the puzzle together. I tested positive for several antibodies that suggested autoimmune disease and was told it was likely lupus, and steroids seemed to help my “infections” better than antibiotics which was quite telling, but my symptoms never stopped recurring and every day was a struggle.

I also attempted to conquer my body by running marathons, hiking mountains, and portraying a life of a “healthy woman.” These outward goals always led to me being very sick, sometimes for months, but for some reason I continued to fight my body every step of the way. I climbed Mount Whitney, the highest peak in the contiguous United States (with a broken tailbone no-less). Two weeks later I came down with a kidney infection that wouldn’t respond to antibiotics or steroids and kept me in bed for 2 months with fever, fatigue, and brain fog as well a complete loss of appetite. I kept frozen salmon, avocado, fresh orange juice, and almond butter in my kitchen and if I ate ONE of those things each day, I felt accomplished. I became scared that I was losing too much weight, but surprisingly, I felt stronger each day. Slowly, my appetite returned.

Finally, two months later I felt completely healthy, and I decided to go out to celebrate my birthday. My first day out. My first day with food outside of my kitchen. I ate fried chicken, drank beer, and polished it off with a birthday cupcake.  The next morning I woke up with 104 fever, vomiting, the works. It started all over again, and I had an emotional break down.

All of these years I had tried to be patient and to trust my doctors, my body, God, and the universe to somehow fix this, but I could no longer handle living my life in constant fear and confusion, and I had reached a breaking point. The merry-go-round of looking for outside help, finding no clear solution, giving up, and then starting all over again was getting old. I truly believed I needed to accept that I  would never have the health and energy of a “healthy” person, so I should start adapting my life to live with my limitations as best as possible. I started tracking every symptom each day, I started dialing back my work hours, my social time, and my exercise, and this seemed to help. I started eating much cleaner according to the Primal Blueprint, maybe 90/10. I slept 10 hours every day. I felt “ok,” but I was depressed at the outlook of my future.

One fateful day, June 21, 2014, I decided to try keto, which I had recently read about on Mark’s blog. It was actually easy for me to get into ketosis for the first time, because my diet had been consistently clean for the six months preceding it. I woke up on day 3, and it was crazy. I could see clearly. I felt well-rested in a way that I didn’t remember existed. I felt boundless energy. I was strong. I could breathe better. I still remember that feeling so clearly. I actually feel healthy! Even when I felt “ok,” I didn’t realize I was never actually feeling well.  It had been so long. I peed on the stick, and it was purple: ketosis was achieved. After a week of eating keto, which I had never intended to maintain permanently, I decided that I would add one half piece of whole wheat pita bread to my diet (I know not primal at all but I feel lucky I made that random exception to my diet) every other week and to attempt to cycle into and out of ketosis. The next morning I woke up with mouth ulcers, a fever, brain fog, and the beginnings of a UTI.

It hit me. The writing had always been on the wall but I hadn’t I seen it. This was clear, objective measures I couldn’t ignore: Do I have celiac disease? I got back into ketosis over the next few days, and all of the symptoms cleared. Like magic. I grabbed a beer, walked down to my hot tub, and cracked it open. This would be my test (and with bittersweet sadness my final beer). As I enjoyed the crisp, cool refreshing beverage, all of the things I had been through over the past 12 years ran through my mind. Even if you reread my story, it seems so obvious once you know. All of that struggle and such a simple solution. Yes, the ulcers and the fever came back the next day. I did a week of completely primal, gluten free, but not keto to test out my theory. I remained healthy. (I have the genetic marker and antibody for celiac but am unable/unwilling to do a 12 week challenge).

Over the next four years, I gained muscle I never knew I could gain. I can wear narrow boots quite well now, and I have muscle in my core and arms. I live a completely normal life. I can run, jump, and play, so I do! I have slowly forgotten the feeling of that daily struggle and fear. I have continued to change my relationship with food. While I am always gluten-free, I am 90/10 with primal eating and cycle in and out of keto. I can finally say that when my body tells me something, I listen. Whether it’s to fully recover between workouts, to limit chronic cardio, to sleep, to get fresh air and daylight, to eat more, or to reach out and connect socially, I no longer try to fight those impulses for my own ego’s sake. I preach this to all of my patients and all of my friends.

Here is a picture of me on Halloween dressed as the iconic Leia finally with some lean muscle!

Most importantly, I have learned to open the discussion of this diet and lifestyle to people around me.  Not everyone has celiac disease, but 1% of the population does and most are not diagnosed. Many people have autoimmune conditions, and we have connected deeply on how similar food journeys have changed their lives. Many people simply have weight to lose and insulin resistance. My next goals in my personal journey are to gain a six pack (something that symbolizes both inner and physical strength to me) and to share this lifestyle with as many people as I can.  Keep spreading the light Mark!

– Maureen

[milenasanchezmk]

All Of That Struggle, and Such a Simple Solution

It’s Friday, everyone! And that means another Primal Blueprint Real Life Story from a Mark’s Daily Apple reader. If you have your own success story and would like to share it with me and the Mark’s Daily Apple community please contact me here. I’ll continue to publish these each Friday as long as they keep coming in. Thank you for reading!

I found Mark’s Daily Apple through a fortuitous and random conversation one morning with the guy I was seeing sometime around 2010. We were lying in bed, dreaming up delicious Sunday breakfast ideas and started talking about bacon, which then led to a heated argument about bacon, cardiovascular disease, dietary fat… oh boy! He name-dropped yours and MDA, and it made me step down from my high horse (I was a recent doctor of physical therapy graduate) and take a whole new look at nutrition that has- no exaggeration- completely changed my life.

Here is my story:

I had been swimming competitively since age 10, so I knew my body. I had always been tall, thin, and full of enthusiasm for whatever I pursued. Back in 2002, as a senior in high school, I started to feel something quite different. If I approached my physical limits, I would feel sluggish and weak and there was no way to push through. Each week, I swam slower. A few months later, I started noticing more and more of my hair falling in the shower drain and in my hair brush. As someone who had always been a night owl, I found it strange that even during matinee movies the second I sat down I would feel tired and fall asleep, like turning a switch. I could sleep ten to twelve hours and still would wake up exhausted. I even passed out a few times for no apparent reason. At this point I felt fatigued constantly, was having trouble finding enough energy to pay attention in class, and I knew something was wrong. I told my mom (a nurse), and we decided to wait out the end of the school semester. After graduation, I took a solid week off and basically slept and rested all day, after which I felt completely normal. I shrugged it off, and headed off to college a few months feeling healthy.

As a frame of reference, my diet at this time was atrocious. I didn’t like most meat, so I would eat processed meat approximately once a week. I hated eggs. I didn’t have much of a taste for any vegetables, so again, maybe once a week one would make it to my plate. I liked bananas, kiwis, and a few fruits. I loved processed food and would primarily eat cereal, bread, crackers, cookies, and pasta. I also struggled with having very little musculature on my body despite being active. At 5’10” my calves were so narrow that speciality narrow boots looked like fishermen’s boots on me! My abdomen fluctuated between being completely concave and sunken or distended to the extent that people would ask me if I was pregnant. My face had a constant red rash and break outs of both acne and rosacea. All of these things made me self-conscious.

When I went off to college, unexplained symptoms struck again. Except this time once I got to the point where I was passing out and fatigued, I kept going. My immune system went nuts. I acquired very bad strep throat, pink eye in both eyes, an ear infection, and a bad UTI all at once. Every week for the rest of the semester I felt worse despite several courses of antibiotics. Fast forward to end of semester: I finished finals, I rested for our 2 week holiday—100% better.

This became the pattern. Three more semesters exactly like this. It started to take a toll on my endurance, and I could not even walk up the stairs to get to my classes without stopping and resting for several minutes. I was embarrassed to be in social situations because I couldn’t focus and didn’t feel like myself physically and mentally. I was struggling in my classes for the first time in my life. I decided that fall semester my junior year would be different: no matter how sick I felt, I would push even harder.

That didn’t go well. I crossed into the next threshold of bodily rebellion. I started feeling sharp abdominal pains as if I were being poisoned followed by bouts of vomiting after taking my birth control, drinking milk, eating anything fatty, taking even a sip of alcohol, and sometimes after indecipherable aggravations. I stopped getting my period. One morning I woke up and could barely open my eyes. I felt confused to the point where I was staring at people talking and pretending to understand what was going on. Morning classes were a blur, and as I sat in my French class, I somehow fell asleep in the front row. My professor woke me up—not too happy—and sent me to the school doctor. Even though there was an entire waiting room full of students, she took me right away. I didn’t question it, but the second she sat me down she explained why: I had yellow skin, yellow eyes, and that awful, unmistakable death-like look of jaundice. She diagnosed me with mono (many of the other times I had been to the health center they suspected mono but the test was always negative). I was put on immediate bed rest until my liver started to cooperate. I could barely stomach eating, so I would munch on saltine crackers and eat unseasoned ramen but little else. My liver enzymes actually tested worse and worse, despite the rest. I got to the point where I could barely eat anything, but then slowly, I started feeling better. Hallelujah.

Spoiler alert, that’s not the end of my story. The very next semester it started happening. Again. Despite being told that you could only get mono once. I was emotionally devastated, scared, and yet determined. I gathered all of my medical records and went to see a doctor off-campus. He was dismissive and cold and told me that I was a woman, and women get depressed. That was his medical advice. End stop.

I was embarrassed to the point I didn’t seek further medical attention and tried to make some changes on my own, this time being a bit kinder to my body. I cut my work hours to almost zero, my class schedule in half, my workouts out altogether, and I just tried to get by. I was able to finish my last few semesters of college with fatigue, constant infections, and poor mental clarity, but I finished! I started working as a physical therapy aid full-time and teaching swim lessons to make money before grad school, and suddenly I was thrown off balance again. I could feel my body crashing as it had before, and I ended up making the radical decision to take 3 months off before physical therapy school to convalesce. This seemed to work, because I made it through 3 years of graduate school with only occasional and much less dramatic periods of illness.

That brings me to 2010, lying in bed, chatting about bacon. This little argument inspired me to read from the amazing Michael Pollen and delve into the wonders of the MDA blog. Mark’s words hit home as I had already begun to understand the importance of rest and recovery, listening to my body instead of overriding its messages (a work in progress), and the way food could make me feel. I drank the kool aid. I was inspired by the large body of evidence in the primal diet and primal lifestyle. Little by little, I started learning how to love vegetables and to prepare them well, to embrace fats, to eliminate grains, and to enjoy delicious meat and eggs. I started eating real food. Relationships don’t change over-night, so neither did mine with food. I had a long way to go, but I could feel a difference in my digestion and my energy. My acne and rosacea disappeared completely, and I felt like I had at least some control in my health.

Unfortunately though, my health continued to decline. It was not exactly the same as it had been before. I was constantly fatigued, but rarely did I have the ear/eye/throat/bladder infection extravaganzas as I had in the past, nor would the symptoms go away anymore with a little extra rest for a week or two. Instead, I started having random, scary symptoms. Over the course of the next four years, several times I would develop excessive water retention, followed by coughing up liquid deep in my chest, followed by pneumonia, followed by waking up in the middle of the night barely able to breathe. I would prop myself up on four pillows so that I was almost sitting up so that I could breathe. I would have fevers in excess of 104 degrees sometimes every Friday after a long week of work and would lie in bed until Monday morning. One time I felt desperately thirsty and was drinking water by the liter until I collapsed with squeezing in my chest. My left arm would randomly swell up. I had strange ulcers in my mouth. Other times my right eye would randomly start dilating, once to the point where I could not see anything out of it for hours. I would have sharp abdominal pain every time I was on my period that caused me to double over. I could keep listing crazy symptoms all day. I lived in fear. In addition, the years of being ill had led to metabolic damage. I could barely eat 1000 calories a day without gaining weight, so I slowly started gaining more and more weight. I had prided myself on being fit, so this crushed my self-confidence.

Doctors led me down many rabbit holes. Some were dismissive, cold, and made me feel embarrassed or crazy for telling them what was happening. Others were compassionate and did what they could to help, but they could only put small pieces of the puzzle together. I tested positive for several antibodies that suggested autoimmune disease and was told it was likely lupus, and steroids seemed to help my “infections” better than antibiotics which was quite telling, but my symptoms never stopped recurring and every day was a struggle.

I also attempted to conquer my body by running marathons, hiking mountains, and portraying a life of a “healthy woman.” These outward goals always led to me being very sick, sometimes for months, but for some reason I continued to fight my body every step of the way. I climbed Mount Whitney, the highest peak in the contiguous United States (with a broken tailbone no-less). Two weeks later I came down with a kidney infection that wouldn’t respond to antibiotics or steroids and kept me in bed for 2 months with fever, fatigue, and brain fog as well a complete loss of appetite. I kept frozen salmon, avocado, fresh orange juice, and almond butter in my kitchen and if I ate ONE of those things each day, I felt accomplished. I became scared that I was losing too much weight, but surprisingly, I felt stronger each day. Slowly, my appetite returned.

Finally, two months later I felt completely healthy, and I decided to go out to celebrate my birthday. My first day out. My first day with food outside of my kitchen. I ate fried chicken, drank beer, and polished it off with a birthday cupcake.  The next morning I woke up with 104 fever, vomiting, the works. It started all over again, and I had an emotional break down.

All of these years I had tried to be patient and to trust my doctors, my body, God, and the universe to somehow fix this, but I could no longer handle living my life in constant fear and confusion, and I had reached a breaking point. The merry-go-round of looking for outside help, finding no clear solution, giving up, and then starting all over again was getting old. I truly believed I needed to accept that I  would never have the health and energy of a “healthy” person, so I should start adapting my life to live with my limitations as best as possible. I started tracking every symptom each day, I started dialing back my work hours, my social time, and my exercise, and this seemed to help. I started eating much cleaner according to the Primal Blueprint, maybe 90/10. I slept 10 hours every day. I felt “ok,” but I was depressed at the outlook of my future.

One fateful day, June 21, 2014, I decided to try keto, which I had recently read about on Mark’s blog. It was actually easy for me to get into ketosis for the first time, because my diet had been consistently clean for the six months preceding it. I woke up on day 3, and it was crazy. I could see clearly. I felt well-rested in a way that I didn’t remember existed. I felt boundless energy. I was strong. I could breathe better. I still remember that feeling so clearly. I actually feel healthy! Even when I felt “ok,” I didn’t realize I was never actually feeling well.  It had been so long. I peed on the stick, and it was purple: ketosis was achieved. After a week of eating keto, which I had never intended to maintain permanently, I decided that I would add one half piece of whole wheat pita bread to my diet (I know not primal at all but I feel lucky I made that random exception to my diet) every other week and to attempt to cycle into and out of ketosis. The next morning I woke up with mouth ulcers, a fever, brain fog, and the beginnings of a UTI.

It hit me. The writing had always been on the wall but I hadn’t I seen it. This was clear, objective measures I couldn’t ignore: Do I have celiac disease? I got back into ketosis over the next few days, and all of the symptoms cleared. Like magic. I grabbed a beer, walked down to my hot tub, and cracked it open. This would be my test (and with bittersweet sadness my final beer). As I enjoyed the crisp, cool refreshing beverage, all of the things I had been through over the past 12 years ran through my mind. Even if you reread my story, it seems so obvious once you know. All of that struggle and such a simple solution. Yes, the ulcers and the fever came back the next day. I did a week of completely primal, gluten free, but not keto to test out my theory. I remained healthy. (I have the genetic marker and antibody for celiac but am unable/unwilling to do a 12 week challenge).

Over the next four years, I gained muscle I never knew I could gain. I can wear narrow boots quite well now, and I have muscle in my core and arms. I live a completely normal life. I can run, jump, and play, so I do! I have slowly forgotten the feeling of that daily struggle and fear. I have continued to change my relationship with food. While I am always gluten-free, I am 90/10 with primal eating and cycle in and out of keto. I can finally say that when my body tells me something, I listen. Whether it’s to fully recover between workouts, to limit chronic cardio, to sleep, to get fresh air and daylight, to eat more, or to reach out and connect socially, I no longer try to fight those impulses for my own ego’s sake. I preach this to all of my patients and all of my friends.

Here is a picture of me on Halloween dressed as the iconic Leia finally with some lean muscle!

Most importantly, I have learned to open the discussion of this diet and lifestyle to people around me.  Not everyone has celiac disease, but 1% of the population does and most are not diagnosed. Many people have autoimmune conditions, and we have connected deeply on how similar food journeys have changed their lives. Many people simply have weight to lose and insulin resistance. My next goals in my personal journey are to gain a six pack (something that symbolizes both inner and physical strength to me) and to share this lifestyle with as many people as I can.  Keep spreading the light Mark!

– Maureen

[cynthiamwashington]

All Of That Struggle, and Such a Simple Solution

It’s Friday, everyone! And that means another Primal Blueprint Real Life Story from a Mark’s Daily Apple reader. If you have your own success story and would like to share it with me and the Mark’s Daily Apple community please contact me here. I’ll continue to publish these each Friday as long as they keep coming in. Thank you for reading!

I found Mark’s Daily Apple through a fortuitous and random conversation one morning with the guy I was seeing sometime around 2010. We were lying in bed, dreaming up delicious Sunday breakfast ideas and started talking about bacon, which then led to a heated argument about bacon, cardiovascular disease, dietary fat… oh boy! He name-dropped yours and MDA, and it made me step down from my high horse (I was a recent doctor of physical therapy graduate) and take a whole new look at nutrition that has- no exaggeration- completely changed my life.

Here is my story:

I had been swimming competitively since age 10, so I knew my body. I had always been tall, thin, and full of enthusiasm for whatever I pursued. Back in 2002, as a senior in high school, I started to feel something quite different. If I approached my physical limits, I would feel sluggish and weak and there was no way to push through. Each week, I swam slower. A few months later, I started noticing more and more of my hair falling in the shower drain and in my hair brush. As someone who had always been a night owl, I found it strange that even during matinee movies the second I sat down I would feel tired and fall asleep, like turning a switch. I could sleep ten to twelve hours and still would wake up exhausted. I even passed out a few times for no apparent reason. At this point I felt fatigued constantly, was having trouble finding enough energy to pay attention in class, and I knew something was wrong. I told my mom (a nurse), and we decided to wait out the end of the school semester. After graduation, I took a solid week off and basically slept and rested all day, after which I felt completely normal. I shrugged it off, and headed off to college a few months feeling healthy.

As a frame of reference, my diet at this time was atrocious. I didn’t like most meat, so I would eat processed meat approximately once a week. I hated eggs. I didn’t have much of a taste for any vegetables, so again, maybe once a week one would make it to my plate. I liked bananas, kiwis, and a few fruits. I loved processed food and would primarily eat cereal, bread, crackers, cookies, and pasta. I also struggled with having very little musculature on my body despite being active. At 5’10” my calves were so narrow that speciality narrow boots looked like fishermen’s boots on me! My abdomen fluctuated between being completely concave and sunken or distended to the extent that people would ask me if I was pregnant. My face had a constant red rash and break outs of both acne and rosacea. All of these things made me self-conscious.

When I went off to college, unexplained symptoms struck again. Except this time once I got to the point where I was passing out and fatigued, I kept going. My immune system went nuts. I acquired very bad strep throat, pink eye in both eyes, an ear infection, and a bad UTI all at once. Every week for the rest of the semester I felt worse despite several courses of antibiotics. Fast forward to end of semester: I finished finals, I rested for our 2 week holiday—100% better.

This became the pattern. Three more semesters exactly like this. It started to take a toll on my endurance, and I could not even walk up the stairs to get to my classes without stopping and resting for several minutes. I was embarrassed to be in social situations because I couldn’t focus and didn’t feel like myself physically and mentally. I was struggling in my classes for the first time in my life. I decided that fall semester my junior year would be different: no matter how sick I felt, I would push even harder.

That didn’t go well. I crossed into the next threshold of bodily rebellion. I started feeling sharp abdominal pains as if I were being poisoned followed by bouts of vomiting after taking my birth control, drinking milk, eating anything fatty, taking even a sip of alcohol, and sometimes after indecipherable aggravations. I stopped getting my period. One morning I woke up and could barely open my eyes. I felt confused to the point where I was staring at people talking and pretending to understand what was going on. Morning classes were a blur, and as I sat in my French class, I somehow fell asleep in the front row. My professor woke me up—not too happy—and sent me to the school doctor. Even though there was an entire waiting room full of students, she took me right away. I didn’t question it, but the second she sat me down she explained why: I had yellow skin, yellow eyes, and that awful, unmistakable death-like look of jaundice. She diagnosed me with mono (many of the other times I had been to the health center they suspected mono but the test was always negative). I was put on immediate bed rest until my liver started to cooperate. I could barely stomach eating, so I would munch on saltine crackers and eat unseasoned ramen but little else. My liver enzymes actually tested worse and worse, despite the rest. I got to the point where I could barely eat anything, but then slowly, I started feeling better. Hallelujah.

Spoiler alert, that’s not the end of my story. The very next semester it started happening. Again. Despite being told that you could only get mono once. I was emotionally devastated, scared, and yet determined. I gathered all of my medical records and went to see a doctor off-campus. He was dismissive and cold and told me that I was a woman, and women get depressed. That was his medical advice. End stop.

I was embarrassed to the point I didn’t seek further medical attention and tried to make some changes on my own, this time being a bit kinder to my body. I cut my work hours to almost zero, my class schedule in half, my workouts out altogether, and I just tried to get by. I was able to finish my last few semesters of college with fatigue, constant infections, and poor mental clarity, but I finished! I started working as a physical therapy aid full-time and teaching swim lessons to make money before grad school, and suddenly I was thrown off balance again. I could feel my body crashing as it had before, and I ended up making the radical decision to take 3 months off before physical therapy school to convalesce. This seemed to work, because I made it through 3 years of graduate school with only occasional and much less dramatic periods of illness.

That brings me to 2010, lying in bed, chatting about bacon. This little argument inspired me to read from the amazing Michael Pollen and delve into the wonders of the MDA blog. Mark’s words hit home as I had already begun to understand the importance of rest and recovery, listening to my body instead of overriding its messages (a work in progress), and the way food could make me feel. I drank the kool aid. I was inspired by the large body of evidence in the primal diet and primal lifestyle. Little by little, I started learning how to love vegetables and to prepare them well, to embrace fats, to eliminate grains, and to enjoy delicious meat and eggs. I started eating real food. Relationships don’t change over-night, so neither did mine with food. I had a long way to go, but I could feel a difference in my digestion and my energy. My acne and rosacea disappeared completely, and I felt like I had at least some control in my health.

Unfortunately though, my health continued to decline. It was not exactly the same as it had been before. I was constantly fatigued, but rarely did I have the ear/eye/throat/bladder infection extravaganzas as I had in the past, nor would the symptoms go away anymore with a little extra rest for a week or two. Instead, I started having random, scary symptoms. Over the course of the next four years, several times I would develop excessive water retention, followed by coughing up liquid deep in my chest, followed by pneumonia, followed by waking up in the middle of the night barely able to breathe. I would prop myself up on four pillows so that I was almost sitting up so that I could breathe. I would have fevers in excess of 104 degrees sometimes every Friday after a long week of work and would lie in bed until Monday morning. One time I felt desperately thirsty and was drinking water by the liter until I collapsed with squeezing in my chest. My left arm would randomly swell up. I had strange ulcers in my mouth. Other times my right eye would randomly start dilating, once to the point where I could not see anything out of it for hours. I would have sharp abdominal pain every time I was on my period that caused me to double over. I could keep listing crazy symptoms all day. I lived in fear. In addition, the years of being ill had led to metabolic damage. I could barely eat 1000 calories a day without gaining weight, so I slowly started gaining more and more weight. I had prided myself on being fit, so this crushed my self-confidence.

Doctors led me down many rabbit holes. Some were dismissive, cold, and made me feel embarrassed or crazy for telling them what was happening. Others were compassionate and did what they could to help, but they could only put small pieces of the puzzle together. I tested positive for several antibodies that suggested autoimmune disease and was told it was likely lupus, and steroids seemed to help my “infections” better than antibiotics which was quite telling, but my symptoms never stopped recurring and every day was a struggle.

I also attempted to conquer my body by running marathons, hiking mountains, and portraying a life of a “healthy woman.” These outward goals always led to me being very sick, sometimes for months, but for some reason I continued to fight my body every step of the way. I climbed Mount Whitney, the highest peak in the contiguous United States (with a broken tailbone no-less). Two weeks later I came down with a kidney infection that wouldn’t respond to antibiotics or steroids and kept me in bed for 2 months with fever, fatigue, and brain fog as well a complete loss of appetite. I kept frozen salmon, avocado, fresh orange juice, and almond butter in my kitchen and if I ate ONE of those things each day, I felt accomplished. I became scared that I was losing too much weight, but surprisingly, I felt stronger each day. Slowly, my appetite returned.

Finally, two months later I felt completely healthy, and I decided to go out to celebrate my birthday. My first day out. My first day with food outside of my kitchen. I ate fried chicken, drank beer, and polished it off with a birthday cupcake.  The next morning I woke up with 104 fever, vomiting, the works. It started all over again, and I had an emotional break down.

All of these years I had tried to be patient and to trust my doctors, my body, God, and the universe to somehow fix this, but I could no longer handle living my life in constant fear and confusion, and I had reached a breaking point. The merry-go-round of looking for outside help, finding no clear solution, giving up, and then starting all over again was getting old. I truly believed I needed to accept that I  would never have the health and energy of a “healthy” person, so I should start adapting my life to live with my limitations as best as possible. I started tracking every symptom each day, I started dialing back my work hours, my social time, and my exercise, and this seemed to help. I started eating much cleaner according to the Primal Blueprint, maybe 90/10. I slept 10 hours every day. I felt “ok,” but I was depressed at the outlook of my future.

One fateful day, June 21, 2014, I decided to try keto, which I had recently read about on Mark’s blog. It was actually easy for me to get into ketosis for the first time, because my diet had been consistently clean for the six months preceding it. I woke up on day 3, and it was crazy. I could see clearly. I felt well-rested in a way that I didn’t remember existed. I felt boundless energy. I was strong. I could breathe better. I still remember that feeling so clearly. I actually feel healthy! Even when I felt “ok,” I didn’t realize I was never actually feeling well.  It had been so long. I peed on the stick, and it was purple: ketosis was achieved. After a week of eating keto, which I had never intended to maintain permanently, I decided that I would add one half piece of whole wheat pita bread to my diet (I know not primal at all but I feel lucky I made that random exception to my diet) every other week and to attempt to cycle into and out of ketosis. The next morning I woke up with mouth ulcers, a fever, brain fog, and the beginnings of a UTI.

It hit me. The writing had always been on the wall but I hadn’t I seen it. This was clear, objective measures I couldn’t ignore: Do I have celiac disease? I got back into ketosis over the next few days, and all of the symptoms cleared. Like magic. I grabbed a beer, walked down to my hot tub, and cracked it open. This would be my test (and with bittersweet sadness my final beer). As I enjoyed the crisp, cool refreshing beverage, all of the things I had been through over the past 12 years ran through my mind. Even if you reread my story, it seems so obvious once you know. All of that struggle and such a simple solution. Yes, the ulcers and the fever came back the next day. I did a week of completely primal, gluten free, but not keto to test out my theory. I remained healthy. (I have the genetic marker and antibody for celiac but am unable/unwilling to do a 12 week challenge).

Over the next four years, I gained muscle I never knew I could gain. I can wear narrow boots quite well now, and I have muscle in my core and arms. I live a completely normal life. I can run, jump, and play, so I do! I have slowly forgotten the feeling of that daily struggle and fear. I have continued to change my relationship with food. While I am always gluten-free, I am 90/10 with primal eating and cycle in and out of keto. I can finally say that when my body tells me something, I listen. Whether it’s to fully recover between workouts, to limit chronic cardio, to sleep, to get fresh air and daylight, to eat more, or to reach out and connect socially, I no longer try to fight those impulses for my own ego’s sake. I preach this to all of my patients and all of my friends.

Here is a picture of me on Halloween dressed as the iconic Leia finally with some lean muscle!

Most importantly, I have learned to open the discussion of this diet and lifestyle to people around me.  Not everyone has celiac disease, but 1% of the population does and most are not diagnosed. Many people have autoimmune conditions, and we have connected deeply on how similar food journeys have changed their lives. Many people simply have weight to lose and insulin resistance. My next goals in my personal journey are to gain a six pack (something that symbolizes both inner and physical strength to me) and to share this lifestyle with as many people as I can.  Keep spreading the light Mark!

– Maureen

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Nano 17

Hello everyone,

Thanksgiving is winding down. I have two more tomorrow then it’s over.

I got home from work Wednesday and went straight to the office to get my new DnD book I ordered. It’s the new Xanthar’s guide. When I got there, the office was closing. The lady was locking the door, and told me I could pick it up Saturday. I was kind of mad because they aren’t supposed to close until five, but she was closing an hour early. I thought about complaining but decided against it. I’ll just go get it tomorrow.

On Thursday, we woke up early and headed to Modesto to see my family. We went to my house I grew up in, my grandma Vikki’s house. We talked to Vikki for a bit. I saw my brother and dad where there, their cars were there, but they didn’t say hi to me. I didn’t care. I wanted to get going quickly anyway. That house is still really destroyed. There are drawers that don’t work, the tile is coming up, and there are shitty hole patches on the wall. I try not to touch anything in there.

I think I shit on my family too much. I think it’s a self-serving prophecy. I hate that place and most of the people in it, so I only see the bad parts of it when I go. I dunno. I want these blogs to explore aspects of my character and why I am the way I am. I feel like my relationship with my family tells a lot about me. I don’t like to talk about them in person, and it’s very touchy when I do. Everyone I’ve dated has avoided it because it doesn’t go to good places when we do. They usually know about my distaste and they want to understand my distaste. But, I don’t have a good reaction to OTHER people calling my family terrible people. So when S/O’s bring it up, they try to talk about my family with the same distaste I have, and I don’t react well. On the other hand, if they try to tell me I should do this or that for/with my family I also don’t react well to that. I dunno. I have this contempt for them, but I also have protective nature to other people shitting on them. I just tend to keep quite. I don’t know if it’s healthy, but it hasn’t affected my life yet. It might soon though because I need to invite them to my wedding. They need to meet my in-laws and it’s gonna suck. I’ll make it work. I dunno.

We ended up going to my other grandma’s (my Dad’s mom). Everyone in my family calls her Nan. I guess it’s a short hand for nana, but we have never called her nana, just Nan. I went to see Nan. Alia and I ended up being the first people there. Nan is a quite person most of the time. It’s always weird visiting her. Vikki (My mom’s mom) is super vocal and talks for hours if you let her. Nan is the opposite. She is very deliberate, and isn’t great at conversation. It might just be me, but my dad had said the same thing. My aunt Lori came over next. She got there with her boyfriend, I don’t remember his name. Lori, nan, and I sat around talking about family. It was the first time I was honest about my feelings about my family with my family. I told Nan and Lori about how I don’t like visiting mom or dad. They oddly understood. This was weird because my dad is SUPER into family respect. My dad made me call my entire relative with their relationship title. An example, I couldn’t call Brad, Brad. I had to call him Uncle Brad. I couldn’t call my mom or dad, Mellissa or Brian, he got pissed when I didn’t call them mom or dad. I had to refer to all my relatives with or by the relative connection. I thought this for all the members of my dad’s side, so when I started talking about my feelings on my parents it was weird that they didn’t get defensive. I think they have also taken note of my dad’s actions and they aren’t pleased. Nan and Lori do very well for themselves and they’ve always had their lives together. They told me that they were surprised I turned out the way I did. I told them I hate when people say that. They didn’t mean anything by it, but I told them Mark (my cousin, Lori’s brother’s son) said the same thing to me years ago (like in 2010). I hated it then and hate it now. I dunno. I had a good time with them and then headed out after food.

I asked Alia if we could go visit my Ex, Jessica. I told her it would be perfectly ok if she wasn’t comfortable with it. She said it was OK, so we headed there next. Jessica was visiting her dad. Jessica and I dated for 5 years, March 2008 to August 2013. We met in high school. She got accepted to Sac state, and I was going to go to Davis. We decided to move to Sac and I’d commute o Davis. I got my acceptance letter to Davis and it was an amazing feeling. I ended up getting a D in my calculus 2 class. Davis took back the offer. I had ended up making up the class, but at that point I didn’t feel like going to Davis. I had convinced myself I didn’t want the debt or stress, so I just went to Sac state too. It was easier that way. Anyway, Jess and I moved to Sac in 2011. We both went to the same school. It was nice for a bit. The relationship got rocky. She took me to see her therapist for relationship counseling. That was the worst experience I’ve ever had.

I thought it was going to be an open ended dialogue about our feelings. I was asked if I had anything I wanted to discuss or if anything was wrong. I said no. I thought our relationship had troubles, but I felt like I was making a good effort to improve it. She would bring up a concern and I’d try to fix that concern. At the therapist’s, after he asked me if I had anything to talk about, He asked Jessica if she wanted to talk about anything. Jessica pulled out her phone and opened her note pad. She had a long list of issues she had with me. She began to rattle them off to the therapist. They were small issues. I didn’t charge the ipad after using it, I moved kitchen items, I fart, and I left a mess at my desk. She also brought up my interest in MLP which was another level of embarrassing. I got SO embarrassed I cried. I literally cried in front of her therapist midway into her list all the things I did that annoyed her. The relationship lasted about six more months. She started to see this guy in Berkeley. I found out about it a month later. We ended it. I moved out and in with Sherri, an old high school friend. I spent a long time getting over it. Jessica keeps telling me it was a mutual brake up. It wasn’t. I was always convinced I could fix it. Even when I found out about Jeremy, I still tried to make it work. When we broke up, I didn’t immediately fall out of love with her. It took a while. I still idolized her for a good three months after I moved out. I spent five years putting her up in my mind. I realize now how unhealthy that kind of thing is, and also how unfair it is to the person. But anyway, I still talk to her occasionally.

I’m confident I wouldn’t have gotten out of my home town without her help. She taught me how to save money, she helped me get my first job, she taught me to drive, and her dad fixed my car for free (when it cost $1,600 I didn’t have). Her dad also sold me my second car after we broke up. I don’t want to say she got me where I am, but she was a good influence. Seeing my other siblings and where they are, I probably would have been in worst off than I was if I didn’t meet Jess. She helped kick start my life. I did all the work. I went to work every day, and I studied my butt off. I recognize that she was an influence but the success I found was because I put the work in. I dunno. I hate the way she ended our relationship. Jeremy has since broke up with her, and she lives alone in LA. She still works her same part-time job three years out of college. I used to talk to her and see how she was doing. I would ask, “How’s the job hunt?” knowing full well that if she found something she would post about it on Facebook. I just asked to be passive aggressive. I’d ask her, “Have you made any friends in LA?” knowing she is not a social person, and it was probably, “No.” I was just bitter and wanted to get back at her.

I think I’ve gotten over the pettiness. I still want to be friends. She was a big influence on my life and I do sincerely want her to do well. It was nice to see her in person again, her dad too. It was nice even if he is a huge, angry, Trump supporter. They had such an influence on me; I just wanted to say, “Hi” while I had the chance. I might get a second chance. It was a short visit. When Alia was ready to go, we left. I was thankful I got to say hi and I was ok leaving quickly. I knew it was probably uncomfortable for Alia.

Anyway, we went back to Vikki’s. This time everyone was out and mingling. I talked to my mom, dad, sister and brother. It was short and pleasant. I found out Vikki chats with Mormons on Tuesdays. She lets them come over on Tuesdays and try to convert her. She said she isn’t interested, but it’s nice to chat. She also thinks she is E-mailing Tom Hiddleston. I dunno. I just let her talk. We headed to my cousin Mark’s.

I got to talk to him for a bit. He keeps ducking me. He might not be doing it on purpose, but we don’t have a conversation that lasts longer than five minutes. He keeps getting up walking around the house and leaving the conversation. It might be a coincidence, but it makes me wonder if he doesn’t like talking to me. I dunno. I used to look up to him when I was younger. He is four years older than me, so he was a big influence on me from age 9-14. Once he got out of high school, we didn’t talk much. He shaped a lot of my morals when I was young. A lot of them might have been rooted in patriarchal ideas, like don’t hit a lady or respect authority, but it informed a lot about my character when I was in early high school before I met Jess. I dunno. I don’t want to be his friend like I used to be, but he is a functional family member. I want someone I can talk about family stuff, who is from my generation (sorry Nan and Lorri), but we don’t talk. Meh, it’s fine.

We left soon after that. We were meeting our friend Cailin that night and we wanted time to hang out with her. We got home, met up with Cailin and watched scary game squad. It was a good day.

The next day (today) we went to Alia’s mom’s thanksgiving, but it’s getting late so I’ll talk about that later.