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NO matter how common she is, she can be a queen.
No matter how noble she is, she can be a maid.
Depending on how she is treated by the man she loves.
How far am I willing to go?

Who would start a love that someone has proclaimed an unhappy ending?


FBS – FASTING BLOOD SUGAR = 100 milligrams per deciliter of blood

Fast for at least 8 hours prior to blood draw. Between 100-125 indicates prediabetes.


WAIST TO HIP RATIO = 0.8 or lower

Belly FAT is a more telling predictor of your health than the number you see on the bathroom scale o.O

how to: Measure your waist where a belt would go. Your natural waist is the point between your lowest ribs and your hip bones, which can be easily identified by placing your hands on your hips. Relax your tummy by breathing out gently and not tucking in. Then, adjust the measuring tape so that it is level all around.  It should not exceed 80cms (32in) in women and 94cm (37in) for men.


THYROID: 0.4-4.0 Miu/L (milli-international units per liter)


Very important to check if older than 50 or post-menopausal. The test involves a special kind of Xray that provides a “T-score,” which compares your current bone density to that of a healthy 30 yr old who presumably has peak bone mass.

CIRCULATING D: 35 nanograms per milliliter or higher

Vitamin D deficiency increases the risk for osteoporosis, breast CA, hypertension, and multiple sclerosis.



For the umpteenth time, I was asked again where I would like to work post-graduation. First of all, I do not even know what I have planned tomorrow after work. Allow me to finish my last semester first, pass the HESI, take the NCLEX, etc… then, we can discuss my desire to continue with critical care or not.

Yes, call me crazy, but I love working in the Emergency Room. Did I also mention I love sitting at the triage desk even if my bladder receives no reprieve from the constant EMS waaaAaaa-ambulance drop-offs complaining of stubbed toes or mouse bites? Yes, there are those that 911 for paper cuts and abdominal cramps during their periods.  Thank God for my blurred vision and selective hearing because I do not see the ugly looks or hear those candid comment. If only I must not wear a shirt that points arrow to stupid. Bring on all the EKGs required for chest pains and express wheelchair services to the OB. My mentality is that: I am here for those that cannot help themselves, not for trolls.

Because it is commonly known that visiting the ER can be a daunting and stressful experience, it truly takes a tough personality to face the overcrowded ER trenches. Whenever we receive complaints from non-emergent patients and family members waiting, I am reminded of one of my favorite craigslist post from an ER nurse in 2005. Not much have changed, and I still agree that the US have the most spoiled “clients” [we aren’t allowed to call them patients anymore]. You would think that it is also universally understood that it is normal for anyone to be asked to wait while more critically ill people are treated first.

DISCLAIMER : I am not the author, I am merely re-posting. I did, however, remove some of the heavy profanity. It ought to be read only by those with a good sense of humor or those employed in the medical field.

“Emergency Room Manners”

People, I am a triage nurse at a busy Emergency Room. I have a lot to say…
Do NOT come up to the front desk of the Emergency Room, fling your health insurance card at me, tell me that your doctor told you to come in, stand there with a bored expression on your face and cross your arms over your chest. That is not helpful. When I ask what you are specifically here for do not repeat that the Doctor told you to come in. When I ask what SYMPTOMS caused you to come in; Do NOT say that it’s in the computer.


There are 16 Gosh-damn people behind you all sicker than your whiney morbidly obese smoking ass. I’m not going to take the 8 minutes to log onto the computer, log my way in and through your medical record until I get to the part where your doctor’s phone nurse writes. This asshole smoker called me because he’s got a cough? Just tell me that you’re here for the freaking cough!
If your spouse (usually the sensible one) drags you in for the stroke that you had 3 days ago and you still have facial droop, slurred speech, and one-sided paralysis Do NOT state that “My wife made me come in” when I ask why you’re here. Just tell me what the fuck you?re here for. And after I put you in line to go back to the ER do not send your cringing hand-wringing co-dependant family members up to me every 15 minutes to ask if it?s your turn yet. IF IT WAS YOUR TURN WE WOULD BE CALLING YOUR DAMN NAME. The window for stroke treatment was 3 hours. Now that you’re long past it, you’re looking at a lengthy rehab. After 3 days another hour or four won’t make a lick of difference. Your anger, frustration, worry, and regret will not get you in any faster. As the slow truth of your stupidity sinks in do not glare at me.
Do not ask to talk to my supervisor or the hospital supervisor when I talk to you in the same tone of voice that you talk to me. This is not Burger King, you do not get it “your way right away.” The squeaky wheel does not always get the grease. Do not excessively first name me just because I’m required to wear a fucking hospital badge. Including my full name in every sentence is a shallow manipulation, an implied threat that unless you get your way another personally directed customer complaint is forthcoming. I am not stupid. Your threats annoy the shit out of me. Making it personal does not change the 3 hour wait. Making it personal may result in the often used “therapeutic wait” (reserved for true assholes). Trust me, you do not want a therapeutic wait.
Don’t cough in my face. Being in a hospital does not automatically excuse you from the social expectations that we as society have had of you since you were three. Do not be like the drunks who tell me that “If you didn’t want to be coughed (shit, spat, vomited, bled, pissed) on you shoulda been a carpenter.” If you continue this behavior do not be surprised when I throw a towel over your face while you are in mid-cough or mid-sentence.

Do not tell me that you “cannot breathe” in long rambling 20 word sentences. In the ghetto that may mean something different. Here, in the ER, we have different standards for what it really means to not be able to breathe. My bar of not breathing will be reset weekly by the people that are truly blue and/or about 30 seconds from coding from lack of Oxygen. There are people whose lungs are so diseased and scarred that they barely exchange oxygen on a good day with the help of their home oxygen tanks. These people come in and let their bodies do the speaking for them. They eloquently slump over their wheelchairs (or the ambulance gurneys) and are never so whiney about it as the 23 year old single smoking mom (of 4 kids by 4 fathers) who has been nursing an upper respiratory infection for a week or two.

Similarly, do not tell me that little Shantiqua is “bleeding bad” with her 1cm cut, that your bullshit pain is 10/10, that you are suicidal when you took 3 Tylenol instead of 2 (gasp!) after mommy grounded you, or that because your emergency is the worse that you’ve ever had, that it’s the worst that could possibly happen in the sum total of human experience. I’m supposed to act like your story is the saddest tale that I’ve ever heard. It’s not.
Sad? Sad is when the drunk driver that killed the kids is unhurt. Sad is when someone is actively psychotic but still lucid enough to know that they have driven away everyone in their life and ruined everything with their madness. Sad is listening to the same beautiful young woman beg for some medicines that will stop the hallucinations while crying in frustration and screaming her angst. Sad is when people pull up to the front of the hospital with a dead relative in the passenger seat of their car. I mean this guy had been dead for 15 minutes and the family only focused on driving to the hospital. Did they pull over and call 911 in an area where the average response time is 5 minutes? No. Did they do CPR? No. Did they expect me to single-handedly yard this 265 lb guy out of the car, into a wheelchair, back to the ER, do CPR, code him just like on TV, and make a miracle happen? Yes! Yes that’s exactly what they expected. I sat there with my fingers stuck in his throat where his pulse should have been and said “He’s dead, he’s been dead for 15 minutes.” What is it that you expect us to do?? We argued over his blue/gray corpse for about a minute before I reluctantly took him back to the ER and started the rain dance. Guess what? After we abused his corpse for 20-30 minutes (not my decision) he was STILL DEAD. Who would have thought?

Yes, I know what’s going on tonight. I’ve seen your exact symptoms hundreds of times. I order your X-rays, labs, ECG, and then read/interpret them (and you) before deciding where you’re sent. The whole model of my HMOs emergency service (and the withholding of that service) is built on our clinical judgement. I am not (nor do I want to be) a doctor and I am not allowed to “diagnose.” Yet my job responsibilities and description require me to do exactly that in order to facilitate care. This arrives us at a legal fallacy where we (nurses) all pretend that we don’t know what’s going on and that “you’ll have to talk to the doctor” in order to keep our jobs and licenses. When we do tell people exactly what’s up, they use that to decide to leave (without seeing a doctor = legal mess), or argue ( = pain in my ass), or press for more medical advice, or complain, or ask for special treatment, or otherwise cause problems. Tired of not being told what’s up by the person with the knowledgeable smile? Tough shit. No, I’m not stupid. Telling you has only got me into trouble in the past. As I don’t know you, you’re not worth it.
Do not believe that because your doctor told you to come right to the ER that you have a right to be seen right away. Let us discuss why he really said that; LIABILITY. Your doctor doesn’t give a rat’s ass about little Johnny’s sniffles as long as he’s out of the clinic before 5:00. Filling up his over-booked appointment calendar could have an adverse affect on that, but sending them “right away” to the ER won’t! AND no one can ever sue him for bad advice or irresponsible behavior because he TOLD them to go the ER “Right away” for the “Highest level of care.” Gotta keep those malpractice premiums down! Motherfuckers.

There are only two things worse than a doctor that won’t see his own patients:

1) The second worse thing is doctors that not only won’t see their own patients, but they send them into the ER with a wildly unrealistic set of expectations. “My doctor told me to come in right away and to go right back! He said I was too sick to wait in the lobby. He ordered you to do tests, they are (stop me if you’ve heard this one before) ON THE COMPUTER?.” I’m not taking shit for orders from some lazy-ass, wart burning, boil lancing, sprained ankle rotating, sore throat examining general practitioner who has assessed you OVER THE PHONE and doesn’t even have ER privileges. Piss-off! You can get an appointment at the clinic in three hours and you’ll be fine. Walk down to the lab yourself if you want those tests.
2) Advice nurses are the bane of our existence. Sure they can’t tell everything over the phone, sure people are generally bad communicators, sure the clinics and doctors are over-booked, sure it’s 2-6 weeks out to even see a doctor, sure my cheap-ass HMO added another 90,000 new members last month but no infrastructure to deal with them, but the solution for this is not Not NOT to “go to the ER right away” where they will fill the fantasies that our unscrupulous marketing department has instilled in you? Fuck off. I love getting advice nurses for patients. They must know because they are reluctant to mention it. We hate them all and feel no shame in railing against them while they suffer (off the clock) in their sick and/or injured misery.
People! I could go on for pages. Think about every miserable customer service job that you?ve ever had and multiply that by tenfold with whiney patients. It?s not that I hate people; I just hate peoples? sense of entitlement and instant gratification. Folks might as well say ?I have abused my body for decades and I?m here for you to fix me.? Sheesh,

To review:

1) Do NOT be an asshole.

2) Lose the weight, stop smoking, take your damn psych meds, and take care of yourself!

3) Its not our fault or responsibility that you?re sick/injured. In fact, it?s probably yours.

4) Folks that arrive dead usually stay dead

5) It’s not like on TV

6) Years of patient abuse have (clearly) left us all a bit burnt out and jaded, so. . .

7) Do NOT forget your manners when you come to my ER : )

-another RN

The whole time I grew up with manga/anime/shoju, I always thot most fanatics only fantasized over wide-doe-eyed Japanese girls in school uniforms. After befriending a fellow stranded passenger at a stop-over in Japan in 2004 en route to my Southeast Asian Birthday Tour, I was introduced to a manga magazine of Hanazakari no Kimitachi E. Although I didn’t understand the Nihongo 日本語, I enjoyed the Shakespeare references and only Asian people would understand laughs, as translated to me.

Because of the shortened title, I only realized today that they made it into a tv show!!! Watching Hana Kimi come alive via kawaii-silly-ness inspired me to continue learning the Japanese culture and practicing the language, however tough KanJi 漢字 is proving to be. I understood some of the verbs/adjective and most of the slang. Sensei 先生would be proud!

I strongly believe God has removed a particular person out of my life. It has been preached that if you stay in faith, God will remove those that are keeping you from your divine destiny. No person can keep me from the right path or hold me back from where I am supposed to be.

Father, thank you for anointing me and keeping me in the palm of Your Hand.

Thank you for those that are always speaking faith and victory over me.

So, everyone is getting married at work and a couple of chiLdhood chums are sending me invites as we speak. Dr. K caught me off guard by asking when was i going to tie the knot. I said never, of course. He raised an eyebrow; ergo, i defended myself by teLLing him that it wasn’t like i didn’t beLieve in marriage, i just believe that there is NO RUSH to the altar. iM stiLL a baby, for goodness’s sake Just like parenthood, that’s the most common mistake anyone in a relationship could ever do. He said he was proud of my answer.

The issue didn’t stop there. Marilyn, Coco, Lisa, and other coworkers at various times had open discussions about this. As a result, I felt like rambling about my views. I figured this won’t be the first, hence the title.

I AM NOT AN EXPERT, nor do i think that i AM. Okay… here goes my piece.

You know the saying everyone wants to get to heaven, but no one wants to die? Well, it’s the same with everyone wants a great marriage, but few of us have been willing TO DO what it takes to create one. The point of the matter is so simple: what you put in is what you get out, right? You must have a partner who is willing to give the same time and effort, who shares your goals and objectives, and who believe in the same key values.

I’ve always trusted in God. There is no crystal ball, but you don’t need one anyway. What you need is the courage to ask yourself and your partner the hard questions and be willing to accept the truthful answers that come from the process. Most of the time, it’s not what you want. Finding out what is important for your sense of well-being and for that of your mate is key in building a strong and sturdy marital foundation. If you’re afraid that exploring certain issues will rock the boat and capsize your relationship, then you don’t have the relationship to weather the storms of married life.

Time doesn’t mean a thing to me sometimes. I hate it when people pride in themselves on how long they’ve been together. “So, what?,” is my response. Have those days been filled with happiness or has it been mostly fights and near death? Even great marriages have bad days, and sometimes I’m sure they have bad years. Periods of conflict, boredom, stress, and hardship can and do afflict every couple. That’s not necessarily a bad thing; it’s something that happens in the course of living a life. The question is: what do both of you make of it? What does it all mean to you?

Marriage is not about “doing time.” It isn’t meant to be a daily fight or struggle.  It is not a life sentence to pain, humiliation, and suffering. Nor is it “hard work” or a greuling job. You do not punch in and out. Here’s a piece of surprising news: true love doesn’t hurt. A good marriage doesn’t hurt. There is nothing wrong with that romantic high wanting to last forever. But know the truth that it can’t  be everyday- and decide that a lifetime of joy [which is what you should aspire to] must be built in reality not fantasy. Know that the lies lead to pain, and only truth can open your life to happiness. If you are desperate to keep the illusion alive, you will suffer.

Don’t fail to forget that it is a TRUE PROMiSE, a strong one, you made to yourself, to Him, and to your partner worth your life and your breath. Commitment is some serious business, innit?

I don’t mean to discourage anyone, only that I want to make sure you’all are awake. It’s your future we’re talking about. Yours, your partner’s, and those kids you desperately want.

I want a marriage that’s true to God’s values.
I want a resilient marriage that will thrive in tougher times and grow stronger when the worse happens.
I want a marriage built on a strong foundation.
I want a marriage that is faithful to our commitment and vows.
I want a marriage that seeks a good future.
I want a marriage that will lift us up.
I want a marriage that creates a strong and respectful love.
I want a marriage that makes time to communicate.
I want a marriage that enables us to see and hear each other.
I want a marriage my children can be proud of and want to emulate.
I want a marriage I can learn alot of life’s lessons from.

More on this later…

This is why I don’t want to get married…

You’re thinking my expectations and wants are too high. It’s just that I strongly believe I deserve that much.

And, let me know what you think.


If you asked me why my views on marriage have changed, this is partly the answer. Of course, there are multiple factors responsible. The high probability of my husband and children taking me for granted is the norm nowadays. Extraordinary enough for it to warrant extreme caution in choosing my future mate. I’ve always believed better NO MAN than the WRONG ONE. Seriously, if whoever he is really wants me, he’s gonna have to convince me harder than a 5-carat diamond platinum ring . teehee

I believe this applies to men as well… I hope you’ll get something out of it. Have a blessed day

“What I wish I had known about marriage”

By Kristin Armstrong

Kristin Armstrong, the ex-wife of cyclist Lance Armstrong, believes that too many women leave their true selves behind at the altar. Here’s the wedding day advice she wishes someone had given her.


The greatest conspiracy in modern history is not Watergate or the shooting of JFK; it’s something far more ingrained and insidious in the way it distorts the truth. The conspiracy is marriage. It’s not that I don’t respect the institution and the belief I’ve cherished since childhood of what such a union could be. One heartbreaking and publicly failed marriage later, I actually revere marriage more at age 34 than I did as a blushing bride of 26.

The problem is that when a young woman announces her engagement, everyone is quick to roll out the matrimonial red carpet by throwing showers and obsessing over wedding day plans. This helps a bride prepare for the reality of marriage about as much as nine months of baby showers and nursery decorating prepare a gestating woman for the awesome task of raising a child: not at all.

Perhaps we are all guilty of holding on too tightly to our own Cinderella stories, thinking that the glass slipper of the perfect marriage will conform to us uniquely. Engagement, like pregnancy, is a fleeting and hopeful time, and those who have gone before hesitate to disrupt this dream with a dose of reality. So we carry a young woman toward the threshold of her new identity as wife and mother and abruptly drop her off at the curb, peeling out on two wheels with a honk and a wave and a wish for good luck.

Here is the truth as I see it: Marriage has the potential to erode the very fiber of your identity. If you aren’t careful, it can tempt you to become a “yes woman” for the sake of salvaging your romantic dream. It can lure you into a pattern of pleasing that will turn you into someone you’ll hardly recognize and probably won’t like. I am warning you because I only wish someone had warned me.

The incredible disappearing woman

Ten years ago I never would have expected my life to turn out quite the way it did. At 24 I had bought my first house and was working for a high-tech company in Austin, Texas. I had adopted a dog named Jake from the pound and drove a cute little green Miata that I paid for in full. I was career-minded and single-minded. I was also headstrong and naive; I treasured my self-sufficiency so much that I scoffed at women who gave up their jobs, stayed home to take care of children or relied on men for anything.

Then I fell in love. I met Lance Armstrong, the Texas cyclist who was battling testicular cancer, at a press conference I’d planned for his foundation’s first cancer fund-raiser. Soon I was joyfully sporting an engagement ring with a hefty rock the size of my dilated pupil in a darkroom. I was so enamored with my new stature as part of a couple that I paid more attention to my left hand than to readying my heart for the journey ahead. I quit my job, rented out my house, gave my dog to an old boyfriend, sold my car and moved to France so Lance could reenter the world of professional cycling. We got married and promptly had three children—a son and then twin daughters—who were breast-fed, toted between countries and utterly adored by their devoted, full-time, stay-at-home mommy. (So much for my scoffing.)

My memories tell the real story. I remember being a bride of two weeks, writing thank-you notes and pondering the strange ache in my heart as I grieved for my old name and independent self. And postpartum me in 1999, weeping for apparently no reason in the middle of the night as I sat on a sofa-size maxi-pad and rocked my crying newborn, Luke, while feeling utterly and terrifyingly alone.

If you ask me today what I truly love, I can easily tell you I love God, my family, my friends, fireworks displays, a good red wine, staying up late with a mystery novel, a sweaty run, painting abstract art, indulging my organizational compulsions, laughing until no sound comes out and taking my time. If you had asked me when I was married what I loved, I would have automatically told you the things that I loved about my husband: the confident, easy way he traveled between countries adapting to cultures and languages, or the way he could fearlessly MSH (our acronym for “Make shit happen,” something we both excel at), or the little-known fact that he is a good photographer. I forgot my own list (and I’m a list girl!). Making him happy became my happy.

So this once-devout Catholic stopped going to church because it was inconvenient. Between my husband’s seven-day training schedule and the impossibility of my attending solo with twin infants and a rowdy toddler in a cathedral with a Latin mass and no nursery, I gave up. I quit reading late into the night because the light was bothersome to a tired athlete who needed sleep. I put all the energy and skills that made me a good manager and account executive into errands, planning and mothering. But the beauty of a wife is not found in those things. The beauty of a wife is in her being, not in her doing. During those years I perfected my doing and neglected my being. I remember the day that revelation first hit me: I made a joke to Lance about being opinionated, and he looked at me, sincerely confused: “You?”

Getting back the real me

If I were to do things over again, I wouldn’t have thrown myself so irrevocably into my new life. I would have guarded the things that made me feel like me —the places, the friends —and above all I would have spoken up about my needs. Instead, I will leave you with a lesson about how a woman can hold on to the bright, hard flame of who she is.

If your husband asks what you think, tell him. If you have a preference, voice it. If you have a question, ask it. If you want to cry, bawl. If you need help, raise your hand and jump up and down. I spent five years juggling kids, travel, cooking, smoothing. I never once said that I couldn’t do it on my own, or that I was just plain tired. I became a prisoner to my own inability to say uncle when life squeezed me too hard. The warden was pride, and I remained in maximum security.

The time may come when you realize that the only way to restore the meaning to your marriage is to get back the real you. It requires warrior-size courage to take a stand against the miscommunication, deception and emotional distance that breed in the shadows of inauthenticity. You will have to boldly step up to the line and speak from your heart. You will have to own your words (spoken and unspoken), your actions (done and undone) and the consequences of both. If I ever marry again, I will have cue cards prepared with “Yes, I do know what I want,” “Make me laugh and I’ll get over it” and “I need you, please help me.”

I know that one day my daughters will face these same challenges. At age four they are already starting to form their own dreams of a handsome prince on a white horse. Without destroying the beautiful elements of their innocence, I long to prevent them from a disappointment like mine —so with each step between now and then, I vow to myself and to them to be real. I hope that as they watch me painstakingly reclaim my hard-earned authenticity, they will manage to guard their own. And when they do decide to wed, they will bring to their marriages the greatest gift of all: a unique and unshakable sense of self.

  I talked to someone earlier today regarding how hard it was to find the other half of your heart.

She said that men are too difficult to deal with.

I don’t think that it was supposed to be easy. That’d be too boring. Remember, I always said to go ahead and collect and collect enough until you can select  Of course, I don’t mean you ought to go on a dating frenzy or sleep around. I just want you’all to experience, learn, try, and taste something new. There is no guarantee, for nothing is perfect. Your soulmate is not supposed to make you super happy, he/she is supposed to challenge you so you can grow to the best you can be. That’ll mean arguments, compromise, head pains, heartaches, and sacrifice.

Here’s what I strongly believe:

Dating = “Meet” Market

You must go shopping for the right person. In order to meet “the one” for you, you have to talk to a lot of people, make a lot of offers, counter offers, negotiate, reject, and accept. I seriously wanted to start handing out application forms because I was getting tired getting all these losers and a**holes. In the end, I think I made a pretty good choice and took a step forward and up the ladder with my choice.

And, please, DO NOT sell yourself short. Imagine GOD loves you very, very much… Think about the level of unconditional love He has for you and that no one else can come close. If you keep that in mind, maybe you’ll use your head more than your heart.

Why do single people sit at home and wait for the phone to ring? You ain’t Brad Pitt or Angelina Jolie, right? You’d best go to the market, even it it’s only the supermarket  lang.

Everything in life is a process.

Act now & wisely.




Things i learned from my relationshits (relationships) with men
AND what i DESERVE in the future:

1. Better NO man than the wrong man. I do not need to be dragged through a completely unsatisfying relationship. I deserve someone who is nice to me at ALL times because I will be nice to them, as well.

2. A good relationship should NOT be lived in secrecy. I must have myself one worth living out loud. I’m tired of this in particular. Screw u, if you can’t be proud of me.

3. If a sane guy really liked me, there is nothing that will stand in his way. AND, if he’s not sane, why would I want him anyway?

4. I shouldn’t waste the pretty; I shouldn’t waste the fabulous.

5. I will not let him trick me into asking him out. It doesn’t mean I’m not capable or independent. If he wants me, he’ll come “chase” me! AND if he’s not asking me out, then I ought not be obsessing about him!!!

6. My only job is to be as HAPPY as I can be about my life, and feel as GOOD as I can about myself.

7. COMMUNICATION. Both of us must know how to use the phone. If he was into me, I would be the bright spot in his horribly busy day. We can use text OR email nowadays. No excuses. I will not go out with a man who expects me to wait by the phone.

8. If he is NOT calling me, it’s because I am not on his mind. That hurts… TRUTH hurts, right? He can never be too busy for me. I shouldn’t slip his mind.

9. I will only date a man who’s at least as good as his word. He will mean it when he actually does what he said he would do.

10. A man who’s really into me is going to want me all to himself. He wants me, makes me feel sexy, and desired fully. NOTHING will stop him from being with me.

11. When a guy says; “I love you but I’M NOT IN LOVE WITH YOU”
[I think] it truly means: he’s not attracted to me and doesn’t want to hurt my feelings. Read the second line! They also do not know how to tell you this. Cowards!!!
12. It’s nice to have companionship. I need that just like anybodyelse. It’s ok to feel lonely and wanting to wake up with someone you like sometimes. Then, again, that’s what pets are for!

13. SEX i have the right to have a fantastic sex life and eNJoY it. Learn it, Live it, Love it.

14. I deserve an affectionate, attentive, and SOBER boyfriend. A drunk/addicted boyfriend only likes me more when it’s less of me. The truth of the matter is: He can’t enjoy me at my full levels.

15. I want marriage; so, I will NOT wait for a decade or two for him to realize I’m the best thing that ever happened to him. The right person for me cannot wait to love me!
16. MOVE ON, ASAP. My ex will remain in the past where he belongs. Remember, he’s choosing, EVERY DAY, not to be with me.

17. NO BREAK UP SEX. Breaking up means NOT seeing them again, which also implies not seeing them naked, again. My breakup maximum is once. oN-Off-On-oFF relationships? I think it’s downhill from there. Second chances need not apply.

18. It’s a FACT that a man who wants to make a relationship work will move mountains to keep the woman he loves.

19. a.J.’s LIFE iS WAY TOO SHORT. I will not waste my valuable heart and mind trying to figure out why he did what he did. I’m getting older and wiser, right? We all make mistakes. Say sorry and move on.

20. NO DRAMA. Let his mother yell at him. I’m way too busy & I’ve got more important things to do.

21. If the person I “love” cannot freely spend his days thinking about me and not being with me, then it’s NOT REAL LOVE.

22. Guys usually tell you how they feel FROM DAY ONE even if you refuse to listen or believe them. He knows in his heart if he’s ready to upgrade to the MAJOR leagues.

23. I WILL MAKE NO MORE EXCUSES! We all have problems with our childhood. I’m making the effort to better my life, he should join me!

24. Life is hard enough as it is without choosing someone difficult to share it with.
25. Be smart & have faith. Freaks should remain in the circus. I already have one asshole, I don’t need another one.
26. I will not date a man who isn’t sure he wants me. Let’s make it simple. Make up your mind, man. Grow some balls and tell me the truth.
27. I will not be with a man who’s afraid to talk about our future.
28. I will NEVER date a man who is married. No but’s or if’s about this one.
29. I will not, UNDER any circumstances, spend my precious time and self with a man who has already rejected me.
signed & copyrighted,
aPRiL J. Gazmen
Oct 17, 2004
i LOVE myseLf soooo muxh rite now, iono iF i can share meeh with anybodyeLse less deserving. aLL of us shouLd think this way. TRUST meeh, it feels liberating and empowering. i hope u’aLL get sumthin from this. WAKE uP *_*, fRiends!
i aM
revisions & any amendments: 1/5/5
31. Just because I see you naked doesn’t mean we’ll sleep together.
32. I’m not supermodel Barbie; so, deal with the fact that I’m a woman with curves. The only time I’m going to go on a diet is when I say so. I’m not losing any weight for any man.
revisions & any amendments: 2/15/5
33. I will not date a man who doesn’t show me the same respect that I give him. How he acts towards me now is a preview of things to come. Chances are, he won’t change and is set in his ways.
34. Universal law: I want what I get. If I keep telling myself that I want a good man over and over again, it’ll be easier for me to remember.
35. Follow your own advice & listen to your gut instinct. If you don’t feel right about something, maybe there’s something wrong.
36. Beware the cycle of bad choices. “It” will keep repeating until I learn my lesson.

Do you know what happens when u realize you’ve outgrown someone?

You start to see them in a completely different light.

Maybe they changed.

Maybe they didn’t.

Maybe you’re just discovering who they really are for the first time.

Very much like a cleaning your eyeglasses, you readjust what once made sense.

This instant, your perception of them has heightened to the next level.

Just like most relationships that stand the test of time, my interest in her isn’t as devouringly entertaining as before.

I start to think and analyze what on earth has happened to this once tight friendship?

I’m not piqued from her incessant ramblings anymore.

Her stories aren’t as surprising as opening a birthday gift; rather, starting to sound mildly mundane and irrelevant.

It leaves me wondering if she was just a picture passing; an amusement for a mere moment.

Don’t get me wrong,

I’m grateful for the attention she still lovingly showers me.

I am, though, incapable to return the favor.

I conclude that my thoughts do not bother me one bit.

Does this make me a horrid friend?

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