PLEASE NOTE: This blog contains adult subjects and content, and because of Google/Blogger's recent nonsense, I HAVE MOVED TO WORDPRESS. For my enlightened friends who wish to visit me in my new home, it's https://ericalscott.wordpress.com. Please bookmark it!

The rest of you? Please take your judge-y selves somewhere more wholesome, like here: www.wonderbread.com

Go on.... shoo!



Sunday, January 22, 2012

All over the map on Sunday night

Not literally. I'm home and it's rather cozy and quiet in here, with the heater going to combat the chill from outdoors. My mind is wandering, however, as it does often.

On Thursday night, John was walking down the street in the dark, and didn't see a coil of wire lying on the ground. In a freakish accident, he stepped on the wire and it sprang up, tangling itself around his feet. He went down hard, bearing his full weight onto his right knee. He'd put his hands out and both got scraped/bruised, but the impact was on the knee.

Friday, I was distracted and worried about him and had a crappy day. Capped it off by misjudging the distance from the wall while exiting my garage space. I've lived in this apartment for nearly 21 years and have never done that... until now. Scraped up the driver's side of my car. It was dark and I was disoriented, and the sound was awful; I made it worse by trying to extricate myself. Ugh. Finally got onto the freeway -- and landed in the midst of a Sig-Alert from a very bad wreck. Took me 1 hour and 40 minutes to get to John's, normally about a 50- to 60-minute drive. By the time I got there, I was not a happy camper. And John's knee was the size of a cantaloupe. It didn't even look like a knee. Poor baby. He'd been icing it; he said it was even worse before.

So we spent most of the weekend home, parked on the couch and watching stuff, elevating and icing John's knee. By today, it was starting to resemble a human knee once again, and he said he could feel his kneecap (which he hadn't been able to do for two days). Icepacks are wonderful things. When we went out to eat, we made sure to get booths so he could prop his foot up on the opposite seat. He wasn't in much pain, but every time he stood upright or kept his leg down, the damn thing would swell. He promised me he'll take it easy this week at work.

Got home late this afternoon. A couple of scene friends are in town for a few days and one of them had messaged me about a spanking party they were going to this evening, saying John and I were welcome to come and if we wanted to, just text him and he'd send the address. Well, of course John was out, but I could have gone. If I were a different sort of person, that is -- more spontaneous. But I can't do anything last-minute to save my life, even if it's something I'd enjoy. Here I was, in sweats with grubby hair and no makeup, feeling kind of sleepy and glad to be home, and the thought of jumping in the shower, washing my hair and blowing it out, putting on makeup, dressing up and driving somewhere in the Hollywood Hills sounded about as probable as flapping my arms and flying to the moon. (sigh) I am who I am. Would have liked to be there, though. But I don't think I would have had as much fun without John, anyway. I don't like going to things alone. I did enough of that in my earlier years to last a lifetime.

I confess, I was bamboozled by the reactions to the photos I posted in the last blog. I'd expected that everyone would laugh with me and tactfully agree that yes, I looked hideous. Instead, one after another, you all said the opposite. So I wondered, just what the hell happened? Had I imagined it all? All the ridicule, the insults, the teasing, the unkind names, the snubbing? If I wasn't that horrible looking, why was everyone, including my own family, so damned mean?

I talked about it with John; he said it probably wasn't so much about how I looked, but what kind of vibes I put out. Very good point. I had no confidence, I was shy and awkward, desperately wanted to be accepted and popular, and that hunger and vulnerability rose off me like an unwelcome stench. I was wide open for being picked on, and when I overreacted to it, I invited more.

Being hypersensitive is not an asset, sometimes. What he said made sense. Add to that growing up in a Hollywood family in Beverly Hills; I was held to a ridiculously high standard. But perhaps if I'd had a confident, outgoing personality, a relaxed demeanor, instead of being this uptight, frightened little mouse, people would have overlooked the baby fat, the braces and the kinky hair.

Doesn't really matter, I guess. It was what it was. Everyone who posted nice comments, thank you. They all came as a shock, but I appreciate them.

Trust me on this, though; I was somewhat overweight. No, not morbidly obese. But y'all have seen me for years; you're used to seeing my body a certain way, the way it's been for a long time. Now picture it packing on another 35 pounds. Again, not obese, but definitely an Erica you wouldn't recognize. One who wore clothes that were several sizes larger.

Can you stand one more picture? This will surely crack you up; it's a 70s relic. In 1971-72, I used to hang out at a rec center in a nearby park, shooting pool, watching movies they screened, etc. On my 14th birthday, the gang there gave me a goofy card they'd drawn up and signed. On the front, someone had drawn a girl's body in a crop top and bell-bottom pants, and then they'd found a picture of me somewhere, cut off the head and shoulders and pasted it on top of the drawing. I just found that old card in a drawer a couple of days ago. Ready?




Happy BIRTDAY, indeed. And yes, I was a BIG girl. Here's a close-up of that top portion:





Ye gods. Come on, you can say it, that's a chunky face. I won't get mad. :-) Jeeez, who would have thought I'd look so much better a full 40 years later?? LOL

Anyway, enough of this. Tomorrow it's play time!

Hope everyone had a nice weekend.

14 comments:

  1. So, you weren't a complete outcast. You had a nice group of friends who made you a very nice card. Without modern technology, that meant hands-on cutting and pasting, not to mention crayoning. It was a nice gesture, and I've got to say the picture of you looks like perfectly normal adolescent. You were attractive then and you are now.

    Hugs,
    Hermione

    ReplyDelete
  2. Man I wish I could wear a crop top and bell bottoms like that now!! You look cute as hell in that pic your friends made for you! How nice that was of them!!

    So glad John is better (whewh!).. Now, if he'll just keep it propped up at work! (Men aren't so hot at self medicating.. they always need a nurse) LOL

    Heard about that party... almost sent a txt to Gino and DrL .. but, alas, the way things were going for me in a recent thread on FET.. I decided it was just best for me to keep my mouth shut the rest of the weekend and go bury my head in the sand somewhere.

    I still don't have my printer/scanner/copier/fax machine hooked up. It's still in the box. I'm the WORST procrastinator in the world. (actually.. I'm working on a resume (which I haven't done since 1972 cause I've been freelancing since then), but it's for something that came up that would be right up my alley (uhhh? Stability? LOL) .. and it would be a chance to get out of freelancing, and do something I love -still equestrian oriented!) - I'm freaking.

    CAN'T WAIT FOR TUESDAY MORNING REPORT! WooHoo! GO ST!!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Sorry to disappoint you but I can't see anything ridiculous or hideous, not in these pictures nor in the other ones you posted. Basically, I wouldn't tell a lady if she looked like that, I would simply say nothing.
    But honestly, the idea that you were hideous never crossed my mind when I looked at the pictures. I have read your book and know how you suffered as a teenager, which makes me feel sorry. Kids can be mean and family members can be even worse and they can put this evil seed in your mind that you have to be ashamed for yourself, for one reason or another. To say it with Jean-Paul Sartre: Hell is other people.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Hermione -- I volunteered at the park's rec center, so I spent a lot of time there; it was my home away from home. Later, I left that crowd because a lot of them were into drugs and so forth, but I was glad to have them for a while. :-)

    Zelle -- wow; good luck with the resume and the job. And I didn't take my printer out of the box for a week. :-)

    Fenris -- Hell can be other people, indeed.

    ReplyDelete
  5. I'm a runner and a few years ago I did the exact same thing that John did. I acidently stepped into a hoop of wire that was on the ground effectively hobbling myself and end up going down hard on my right knee, which promply swelled to the size of a basketball. I recoved ok but it took about 5 days before it stop swelling back up when I tried to stand on it. It was about a month before it was normal enough to run on it again. I feel for him beciase that really hurts too.

    I agree with everyone else about the pictures I can't see anything rediculous or hideous but i did enjoy them

    ReplyDelete
  6. Just returned from having a new ankle cast put on. I feel so bad for John. The knee swelling has got be uncomfortable. Good its going down.

    I was not popular in School. I could blame it on a lot of things- Mostly, I think because I wanted it so much and was so open and friendly, my peers saw that as weakness.

    Then I found my voice, just like you did. I bloomed. I became a girl with a full social calendar, scores of fabulous friends and boyfriends that were way hotter then the asshat who stood me up for Junior Prom.
    The vulnerability, the insecurities are still there. But that's okay- they produced my tender heart and sharp wit.

    So you weren't perfect. You weren't any of the other things you listed either. You were a friendly caterpillar. You needed to cocoon and transform to your true self. A brightly colored
    light as a feather Butterfly.


    So in the end, u have to know this. Own this. It was truly their loss. Truly. Because look who you are today. A fierce, witty, loved, beautiful woman.

    Their loss.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Photo's don't lie. Yes, Erica, you are a most attractive 'mature' woman. And I love you, because you have a good heart, are an excellent 'author'. A 'genius' of a mind. And pardon the expression. You have a most 'voluptous' bare bottom. Although possibly not in that order. So what more could a woman like you want?.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Glen -- yes, sounds like your experience was similar. Just one of those freak things that happens so fast. :-( Glad you recovered well.

    Newt -- in the final chapter of my book, I wrote that empathy is born from pain. If life were too easy, we'd never learn how to relate to the grief of others, I guess.

    Zelle is right, you know. I hate the "s" word, but you really should blog. :-)

    Six -- you're very kind. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Glad John is doing better. Icepacks ARE wonderful things. I should be their sponsor, hahaha. In regards to childhood insecurities, I think we all have them. And it probably is true that letting it show makes kids pick up on it more and pick on someone. Kids are one of the meanest groups of people on Earth, seriously. I don't think many of us would choose to relive any of those times of life. I sure as fuck wouldn't. But all those things good and bad shape us into the people we are today. And you are a wonderful person, so something went right, eh?

    ReplyDelete
  10. Lea -- kids suck. I don't think I could have tolerated having any, and watching that cruelty in a new generation. But in some ways, I was my own worst enemy... just so hypersensitive.

    You're very sweet. I know I did something right, considering the good people in my life.

    ReplyDelete
  11. Hi girls, I think both of you are sooo lovely!

    ReplyDelete
  12. Craig -- he's much better now, hon, thanks.

    ReplyDelete