The Past Shades, hot baths, and scars

I don't know quite where to begin other than by saying that I wrote most of this while soaking in the tub-writing in my little black journal with my black ballpoint pen. I've been reading a lot lately, not just anything, mind you, but a former educator's blog. She writes so eloquently; I wish I could write as she does. But that's her writing style and this is mine, and that's what separates us writers from one another-our styles. But I get to jump into her brain sift through her thoughts on education, life, and her childhood. I can't help but wonder if I will ever be able to recall the moments in time as she does.



Ha, baths are my time to rejuvenate not only my hygiene but also my mind & "mommy muscles" as I call them; you know, those that you use while lifting your child in and out of his or her swing, bouncy chair, walker, etc...I have great difficulty imagining the Renaissance when baths were a monthly thing and even then the tub wasn't clean unless you were the lucky first one in the tub. I think people take these normal routines for granted.



I sat in the tub tracing the white little lines on my wrists and ankles this bath while I was shaving my legs I couldn't help but think on the days I would frantically come home from school and bust open a razor and take out the three little blades, stuff one in my shoe in a little spot by the laces and then take the other two and hide them strategically for just the right moment when I could drag the blade across my skin and make a bloodly little line. You see, I use to be the girl that the classmates would call "fat" not that I was fat by any means. I was simply 5'2 and weighed 85 pounds my seventh grade year...not that the teachers could tell or anything but I was depressed and anorexic but I wore the baggy shirts and pants that would hide everything. But I couldn't help but wonder what my life would have been like without Prozac. That's the miracle drug that I'm no longer taking because I've been announced "Cured". So it annoyed me the other day when I saw an "Anorexic recovered" on TV. She was only Anorexic for a year. Ana became my only friend for two years-and I didn't think I had a problem. Mia was my next friend (Bulimia). And of course the razor was too, if you want to know, ask. It's the only way you'll get the full story.

Anyways, I don't know where this is going...But I'm going to go to internet-land and pounce among my fanfiction that I enjoy reading.