People say it's better to have love and lost than to have never loved at all. I'm starting to wonder if that is true.

I have read studies that show being in love just once makes it easier to fall in love again. But is it really better to lose love than never know love?

I have experienced the type of soul shaking, Earth moving love that women read about in romance novels, see in movies, and hear about it songs. I felt the unexplainable hole fill up. I felt complete and solid for the first time in my life. I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with the person who made me feel this way. I thought we were going to get married and grow moderately old together.

Then everything changed.

He left. We both had a part in him walking away, but the fact still remains that he is no longer around to fill the void in my soul. Now, the hole feels bigger than ever and I'm stuck knowing what it's like to have the type of love everyone searches for and to lose it. I know what I'm missing.

So, as I go through my day pretending to be fine and happy, my insides are screaming at me. My brain never shuts up. And I'm angry with myself and with him. I feel deceived by the person I love more than I have ever loved anyone and I feel tricked by my own judgment. How did I not see this coming? How did I not know he was lying?

I think that quip is pleasant in thought, but is completely false in action. If Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind were a real thing no amount of money could keep me from obtaining it.

Maybe for some people it is better to have loved and lost, to have tried and failed, to seek other fish in the sea, but I would so much rather not know this pain or loss. I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy because this relationship and feeling has ruined it for me. I can never just idly enter into a courtship again. I can no longer casually date and get free dinner, go out on the town.

Yes, part of it is that I'm simply not ready to date, but part of it is that I don't know if I'll ever feel this way again and how can I be comfortable dating someone that I know will never live up to the feelings I had before?

My sister-in-law, being a scientist, brings up the completely rational argument that based on the sheer number of men in the world, I'm likely to fall in love again and I'm likely to experience the same type of love. And, she has a point. There are seven billion people in the world. If three and a half billion of those people are men, it's possible that I have yet to meet my soulmate and that he is still out there. But, do I really want to wade through those billions of people hoping the find something I've already lost?

Maybe I feel this way because I thought I was mostly over the hurt of this relationship, I thought that I was making progress in moving on, getting over it. Then, I saw him. I don’t know if he knows I was at the bar to watch the game, but I know he was there.

I picked that particular bar because I know he doesn’t really like the neighborhood it is in and he always talks trash about that spot, plus, he cares so little about football that I figured he would rather sleep through the NFC Championship game. But, as I walked up to the bar I saw his employee outside smoking, she saw me and ran back in, looking back twice to see if I was following. I saw her take a seat at the bar top and then I saw him. It was like being punched in the stomach. I just froze. I was not expecting to see the man who broke me, but there he was, with his friends, watching a sport I have never seen him care about. Watching football, drinking beer, like nothing happened, he had no idea my world had stopped for a minute.

I did the only thing I could do, I left. I was reminded of why I want to move, now more than ever, away from this city and this state, away from my friends and family. I need to leave because love hurts. Love hurts more than anything I have ever felt. Being single again, I never want to be in another relationship. I never want to risk feeling this way again because I do not think the risk is worth the reward. And I do not think it is better to have love and lost than to have never loved at all. At this point, I would give pretty much anything to never know what it felt like, to have never been in love with him.

Maybe I will look back on this post in a few weeks, or months, or years and think about how silly I am, but for now, I do not see that happening.

I wonder how many cats the shelter will let me adopt at once? 

Hon. Judge McJudgerson Presiding

I have a confession to make. I watch the show “Drop Dead Diva”. It is a terrible show, but I love it. For those who haven’t been lucky enough to catch an episode, it is basically about a shallow aspiring model who dies and happens to come back, but her soul is placed in the body of a powerful lawyer who happens to be…well, fat. While this show is predictable and terrible, it has some gems of wisdom and truth.

As the main character is adjusting to life in her new over-weight body she notices people looking at her differently than they used to when she was skinny. People she was friends with in her past life brush her off and give her what she refers to as “the size up”. This is essentially an assessment made by quickly eyeing a person’s body up and down. I have over-weight friends and family members and I am sure this type of thing happens to them all the time. I am not denying that. But, can we stop pretending like fat girls don’t do the same?

Today, I went to Target. I wore a lightweight nude tank top with neutral jeweled detailing around the straps and collar paired with a bright blue high waist skirt and greyish-brown ankle boots with fringe on the side. Nothing was hanging out. My breasts were covered, my midriff covered, my lady parts all covered. Still, every girl who passed me whose pant size is larger than a size 8 quickly eyed me up and down and looked away. None of these girls looked me in the face or eyes. All they saw was a thin girl showing off too much skin, because apparently this is the 1920’s and knees are scandalous. Even a child did this to me! A child!

I have worked hard to be comfortable in my skin. It has taken lots of hours and discipline to stop saying terrible things to myself about my own body. My cellulite, my less than flat stomach, my back fat, the list goes on. Not being an asshole to my self is not easy. It has been hard to focus on the positive instead of the negative. My awesome skin, my long legs, my great ass! Seriously, my ass is killer. And I am not bashing my curvy sisters! I am not eyeballing you with judgment.

Thick girls are beautiful! I don’t care if you are a chubby girl wearing a bikini or rocking a miniskirt. Sure, I don’t want your skirt to be so short I can see your ovaries, but I don’t want to see that on a skinny chick either. My heavy girlfriends are beautiful. Wear whatever you want to wear.

We need to stop hating ourselves and each other. We need to stop thinking that our body is not the ideal. My body is great not because I wear a size 4, but because of all the amazing things it can do and has been through. My body has healed from broken bones and sprains, heart breaks and mental break-downs, my body gets me through every single long shift I work on my feet, my body takes me places and puts up with the abuse I put it through. Our bodies are miracles! So, let’s be happy with how amazing these sacks of skin filled with bones and organs really are.

Also, it was 9:30 PM and pushing 80 degrees. So, Judgey McJudgerson, calm down. It is balls hot. Let this bitch breathe!