Danger, Will Robinson!

If you don’t know me, don’t sweat it! No one else really does either.  And I kind of like it that way. I realize that may make me weird. But I’ve been called “weird” before, so I’m trying to own it.

Anyone who really truly knows me (kinda sorta) would be able to tell the rest of you though that when it comes to JMo…it can be complicated.

Almost like I should come with a warning: PROCEED WITH CAUTION!

And recently I posted something of which I’m not extremely proud.  But it came from me. I have that monster living inside of me. And what that post does is remind me that I can dish it out but I can’t take it.

No, you read that right. I can’t take it. So what I’m going to try to do is list some SOME of my many faults to somehow even things with Karma or whatever.

Or maybe it’s just to say, I already know how terrible I am! I’m #1 at criticizing myself. No one is better at it than me!

I’m ugly. He was right. I am a 7. That’s probably too generous. I’ll tell you why:

I have a Ted Kennedy, the older years, type of nose. No, I’m not a Kennedy nor an alcoholic. It’s just big. A big honking nose. My college roommate hid pictures she and her friends drew of me, but I saw them anyway. I won’t say what the picture was exactly, but it accentuated my nose and what’s more truthful than a bunch of people who think you’ll  never see this caricature?  So, there, yes I have a big nose, and I know you all know. Next!

Like my nose, everything about me is big. Seriously. Everything from my curly hair, to my big old bug eyes, to my toothy grin, and droopy old lady boobs and … yeah my body. I’ve lost SO much weight, but I’m still fat by society’s standards. And I don’t care that much. I mean, I do! Obviously. But there isn’t much I can do about it. So, yes I know everything is a mess. Except my nails. Elephant Man + nice nails = me. The movie not the play.

Ok, so I described my gross, fat, yet groomed and bathed physical body. SORRY! I can’t do much about it now. Be thankful I’m covering it up though! No one needs to see me in a crop top.


Literally this robot has a hotter and tighter body than I do.

Right, what’s next. Fuck. This is harder than I thought. Is it weird how easy it was to put down my physical looks, but having harder time calling out my MANY other shortcomings?

I’m forward. I’m quiet. I’m naive. I’m a huge bitch. I have a bad attitude. I forget to say “Thank you” at the worst times. I’m mentally unbalanced. I’m physically unhealthy. I got into a screaming match with a woman much younger than me inside Epcot. I only stopped because she walked away (of course!! I’m a hideous behemoth. Look at me!) and I did not want to go to Disney jail. I swear a lot. I cry a lot. I don’t remember much at all from my childhood (red flags right?). I’m damaged. I was broken so badly once, I didn’t think I could put the pieces back together. I trust too easily. I trust for too long.

And lastly, (Look I said SOME things. I can’t list everything! I’m already weeping as it is!) –

When someone gets to know me and I trust them with nuggets of my life, good and bad, and I let them in and open up and trust they will not hurt me – I always get hurt. And then it becomes my mission to burn our bridge as brightly as possible. But just know, behind that bonfire is ugly me. Crying. Failing at life. Again.

Hey, Happy Friday you guys!



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